Song of My Life

I was listening to some Jimmy Buffett music last night. I ran across an oldie but goody "The Wino and I Know." I often forget how wise and philosophical the man can be when I’m listening to his more whimsical tunes, but he can be quite profound. The chorus contains the lines "It’s a strange situation, it’s a wild occupation. Living my life like a song."

That got me to thinking. What is the song of my life? If I had to narrow it down to one single song, which song would most represent what I stand for and how I’ve lived my life? It’s quite a daunting task! My mind immediately ran through a list of my favorite tunes- songs I can listen to over and over again while never tiring of them.

A myriad of artists crossed my mind: The Beatles, of course, which is no surprise to anyone who really knows me, Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, Dixie Chicks, James Blunt, Eric Clapton, Billy Joel, Jimmy Buffett...

While all of those artists definitely qualify as favorites, none had a song that shouted ME. I had to keep thinking. Then while considering "Someone Saved My Life Tonight" by Elton John, a single moment played back in my mind. I was nineteen and in my first year of college at West Georgia College in Carrollton, GA. I randomly signed up for a psychology class since I have always had a love of the subject. I had this interesting, off-beat professor named Anne Richardson. I found it telling that her name instantly came to me after all these years. We did a lot of writing in her class so I, of course, loved it! Once a week, we met in small groups for more intimate contemplations. My group leader, Becky, had us each bring in our favorite song, and we had to explain why we chose it. I brought in that Elton John song I mentioned above. Becky brought in a song I had just become familiar with- "Closer to Fine" by the Indigo Girls. Upon listening to it more closely that day, it became a favorite of mine as well. I immediately went out and bought the CD and promptly loved the entire album. Well, actually, I believe it was a cassette tape, but the inadequacy of my media of choice at that time is completely irrelevant to the topic at hand!

I’m trying to tell you something about my life
Maybe give me insight between black and white
The best thing you’ve ever done for me
Is to help me take my life less seriously, it’s only life after all
Well darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable
And lightness has a call that’s hard to hear
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it, I’m crawling on your shore.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There’s more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

I went to see the doctor of philosophy
With a poster of Rasputin and a beard down to his knee
He never did marry or see a B-grade movie
He graded my performance, he said he could see through me
I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind, got my paper
And I was free.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There’s more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

I stopped by the bar at 3 a.m.
To seek solace in a bottle or possibly a friend
I woke up with a headache like my head against a board
Twice as cloudy as I’d been the night before
I went in seeking clarity.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There’s more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains
I looked to the children, I drank from the fountain
There’s more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine.

We go to the bible, we go through the workout
We read up on revival and we stand up for the lookout
There’s more than one answer to these questions
pointing me in a crooked line
The less I seek my source for some definitive
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine
The closer I am to fine

This song screams ME! I’m the person never satisfied with what I’ve got or what I’ve achieved. I’m always searching for the next big thing to make me "better." I’ve spent a great deal of my life looking for something that was in me all along. I’ve looked through education, reading, religion, careers, many, many things. I wanted to be a teacher so I got my B.A. in English Education and started teaching. Then after figuring out that teaching wasn’t my calling, I dove head first into being a stay at home mom. While ultimately a great idea for Matt, I was freaking miserable and unstimulated intellectually on any level. Law school caught my eye, and I jumped feet first into that fire which ended disastrously and expensively. In my life, there has always been something calling to me saying "There’s more. You can do more than you are doing. You can be better. You are meant for more than this." It’s actually quite exhausting to be constantly searching for the single thing that is going to finally make me feel like I have gotten somewhere important, that I am finally somebody important, that I have made my mark on this world.

Jim fits well into this song for me, too. He is the goofy, kind man who above all else has always made me laugh. "The best thing you’ve ever done for me is to help me take my life less seriously. It’s only life after all." He has spent a lot our marriage trying to convince me it’s okay to be goofy, silly, even strange and that it doesn’t matter at all what other people think. I’m the person worried about social norms and not calling attention to myself while he’s standing behing me walking like an ape trying to make people look. It’s pretty ironic really.

And in reality, the kicker in this blog is that it’s all completely meaningless. The source of my happiness is, of course, controlled by me, and no amount of success, money, or stature can guarantee happiness. Ultimately, I have decided that my time will be best spent figuring out what I can do that will satisfy me and make enough money for us to live comfortably and then spend my extra time doing the things that move me. Life is about passon and happiness- not stature. As the song goes, "The less I seek my source for some definitive, the closer I am to fine." That is I- getting closer to fine.

Law School

Candor is not my typical strong suit. I'm generally tight-lipped about personal stuff, but for the sake of my sanity, I am attempting it. I have never truly discussed what my year of law school was like or how it affected me. I can now safely say while looking back on that year of hell that it was the absolute worst year of my life yet it was also one of the most thrilling years of my life. It is hard to wrap my brain around these paradoxical feelings and figure out how to sort through them in order to completely move on with my life. I have been in almost a holding pattern while moving about my daily life since that day I learned my fate. It robbed me of my self-esteem, and in doing so I let it rob me of life; though, I am just beginning to see how much I have missed.

To back up for those unaware of my year of hell, let me explain. First and foremost, I am not trying to insult any of the incredible people I met while attending California Western School of Law. I am not knocking the school on the whole since I have fond memories of (most) of the professors and of the courses I took. Indeed, you are among the best things to come out of there for me. I still adore you all. In particular, meeting Rachel has changed my life. She is my best friend! I trust her with my dogs, my child, and my life! ;)

So where to begin… While staying home with my son almost three years going stir crazy, I realized I liked working and school! How strange! I am not the stay at home mom sort, and I admire anyone who can do it while maintaining her sanity. I searched my brain, soul, whatever, trying to decide what to do. I knew returning to teaching wasn't the answer. Something led me to law for likely all the wrong reasons; yet it oddly worked for me. Going against my non-adventurous personality, I dove head first. I picked up LSAT books, took God knows how many practice tests, signed up on the LSDAS site, picked a LSAT test date, the works, without ever having looked into law school in my life. Two months later, I took the LSAT and earned a perfectly average score. I was satisfied. I applied to all three law schools in the San Diego area. I was rejected by USD as I expected. I was accepted by Thomas Jefferson and California Western. I chose wrong!

Three weeks into my law school experience already struggling with being a mom and maintaining the vigorous full-time schedule and depth of reading, my son's daycare provider took him to Mission Bay to play with two other children. He wandered off crossing Mission Bay Drive, a five lane highway, so he could check out Belmont Park. He was two weeks shy of his third birthday. He was unharmed, but it was not exactly a great start for me. The next three weeks, I muddled through while searching for a new place for my child to attend and grew further behind. But I found the subject matter to be the most intellectually stimulating thing I had ever done with my life. I was conversely stressed out beyond anything I had ever experienced while equally mentally invigorated. It was an overwhelming feeling.

I felt I was playing catch-up the entire semester but dove into finals. With the infamous "law school curve," I came out with a low C-average a 73.5/72.75 (with legal writing/without legal writing). Seriously, Campbell's criminal law exam killed me!! Again, I was okay with being average. I never expected Law Review. I was aware of Cal Western's first year grade policy, and I did give it some thought. However, I never could have predicted what second semester would have in store for me.

Two weeks into my second semester, on my birthday no less, I learned my grandmother was dying. I went home to say goodbye. So once again, I began the semester by getting behind. The same evening I learned my grandmother was terminally ill, my husband informed me he didn't know if he wanted to be married any more. I didn't realize it then, but he was spirally towards a mental breakdown that wouldn't hit rock bottom until my finals week. So I was a shambles. I was mourning the impending loss of my grandmother while pushing maddeningly forward with school out of fear I might be a single mother in the distance future and needed a way to support myself. Needless to say, second semester was terrible for me. In March, I learned my husband was unexpectedly going to sea on two weeks notice (for five weeks) leaving me at home completely alone during finals with a three-year old and two dogs. That was the breaking point for me. I almost lost it. I dropped a class to lighten the load. In hindsight, I should have dropped two or more, but I received truly bad advice from a Dean, who up until the last time I spoke to her, denied she ever spoke to me or gave me such advice. I ended my second semester with a 73.8/73. I raised my GPA despite great odds.

Herein lies the problem. CW, in some absurd attempt to raise its rate of students who pass the Bar on the first try, found a thin correlation between grades and passing the Bar. This correlation shows that students with lots of grades below a 74 tend not to pass the first time. It in no way shows an inability to practice law. Anyone in law school has heard the saying "A-students become judges … C-students become trial lawyers." CW had in place a rule that any student ending his/her first year with below a 74 would be academically dismissed. As such, I was dismissed and to this date have no credit for the work I completed. Had I attended either other school in SD, I would have been allowed to continue in my studies.

The irony in all this is that law is a living document changing as times change which considers the particular circumstances surrounding an incident before offering a ruling. In a subject area which offers countless elements in order to prove crimes or torts as well as defenses and affirmative defenses, you'd think a school would be willing to allow a student one affirmative defense stating, "Yes, it is true I didn't meet the cut-off, but here is why…" Apparently "substantial justice and fair play" doesn't apply in the very place teaching the concept. CW allows absolutely no exceptions to this already unfair rule. It never took into account what I accomplished despite numerous obstacles. It is patently unfair that a person can do the work, pass the courses, and then be denied the opportunity to stay. In another ironic twist, I also knew I never intended to take the CA Bar so I never would have disturbed the school's precious bar rate. I knew I'd be moving very soon after graduating.

I left law school completely devastated, feeling completely broken and unsure of my intelligence for the first time in my life, and with absolutely no back-up plan of what to do with my life. I jumped into a paralegal program which I aced proving that I did indeed learn something in law school. However, that didn't fix the problem. I still felt like a failure. To some extent I still do. I want so very much to go back yet I am terrified. I have no self-confidence. I have spent the last five years beating myself up for doing my very best under extraordinary stress. It makes it doubly hard to forget when I pay the student loan bills for that year every single month as well. I can't get past it! Deep down I know I actually did not fail but that is little consolation. I was denied the chance to do something I desperately wanted and still want to do. It is a very lonely, empty place to want to do something with all your heart and be told "No, you passed, but you are not good enough for us." And that it exactly where I still sit today. The bigger issue is how to finally be released from that lonely place. Perhaps, writing this is a start…

Back to Jax

The hubby and I lived in Jacksonville, FL for six years- seemingly six long years. The early part of our marriage was riddled with problems. One might say stubbornness, persistence, and/or a general lacking of wanting to admit we made a mistake kept it going. We left Jax behind with very little looking back purely because it held so many raw memories for us. I left behind a few good friends whom I still miss dearly and some good memories but for the most part, it was rather ugly.

I have only been back on one prior occasion which was into Jacksonville airport on our way to a wedding on Jekyll Island. After the wedding, we drove back early and spent an evening in the city checking out some of our old haunts along the way. It was nice to revisit; yet having been only a couple of short years since the move still fostered some negative energy.

Now, I have had the chance to return yet again over twelve years later and found the experience to be far more pleasant. Driving down certain streets, I could see all the changes that had occurred immediately; however so much seemed the same. In a moment of simply clarity, I realized it was like looking at myself. In many ways, I can't even remember the person I was when I first got married and moved to Jax. I feel like a completely different person. And then there are the parts of me in which I feel haven't changed a bit and probably won't no matter how hard I or anyone else tries. I had no idea who I was or what I wanted out of life when I got married at the ripe old age of twenty. It is rather nice to be able to look back and see how I've grown as a person while still maintaining many of the unique qualities that make me me just as it was nice to go back and see how the city I once resented looked so very different yet still seemed liked home.

Revolutionary Road

I just returned home from seeing this fabulous movie. Fabulous doesn't touch the surface. It was perfection. Inarguably, the best movie I have seen in years. I would even go so far as to say Sam Mendes is a fucking genius and surpassed the brilliance of his American Beauty- one of my all-time favorite movies. However, I am much puzzled by the extreme response I have had to seeing it. Now crying during or after a movie is no shocker to me; it happens all the time. I cried a few weeks ago at the end of Titanic after seeing it for the umpteenth time; I cry halfway through "Little House on the Prairie" episodes because I know what's coming; I am a crier! No doubt about it.

My issue is the amount of crying and the lapse of time which has passed without my having truly composed myself. I am still tearing up as I write this. It was a sad movie- no doubt about that. However, I don't think it's any sadder than, let's say, Million Dollar Baby, Juno, or The Prince of Tides, all of which brought me to tears by the ending. I seriously lost it during one scene in the movie and again at the end. I thought I had myself composed enough to leave the theatre. I was wrong. Walking towards the exit, I felt the water works coming and ran out the door to my car. I cried, no bawled, the entire drive home (a good 25 minute drive). The hubby called on the drive and I could scarcely pull myself together enough to talk to him. I had to brave a store to pick up dog food knowing I looked like hell. Now, here I am typing this an hour later, and I am not yet myself. This movie knocked me like a ton of bricks!

Okay, so I get that having had some marriage issues over the years that this movie is meaningful to me on many levels. I also get that the baby issues (I won't give anything away) are poignant to me having a child and one on the way. All that makes sense to me. However, I am still baffled by the extraordinarily over the top reaction I am having to the movie. This is so not me at all...

Anyone out there who has seen the movie, I am open for thoughts and suggestions. Or anyone out there who has ever had a seemingly strange reaction to a movie, I'd love to hear about that as well.

The Bitch of Insomnia

Here’s my disclaimer: If you are easily offended by language, stop here! If you are uncomfortable with the topic of sex, stop here (though the sex stuff is brief). This is my attempt at describing the rushing thoughts that come to mind as I am desperately trying to get to sleep. IMO, I have reason to use expletives in my brain as all this is happening, lol; if you disagree, so be it.

Oh, and before I forget, this is written from rote memory! I am in no waying proclaiming that this occurred verbatim, lest I become the latest James Frey crying on Oprah’s couch as she announces how disappointed and betrayed she feels upon learning that A Million Little Pieces wasn’t entirely true. This is the truth as I recall it! And by the way, A Million Little Pieces is a brilliant book regardless of accuracy so James I still love you! It is a poignant read for all- particularly anyone who has lived through addiction or knows somehow who has. And really now, who doesn’t fit into one of those categories these days??

But I digress... on with the rolling dialogue...

Okay, so it’s been a pretty shitty week, but it ended better than it began. That is something to be thankful about. Matt hasn’t had a fever since 6:30am. That’s good news. We all took the dogs for a walk which is great family exercise and pleases the dogs too. I just had great sex so I’m all relaxed; that’s a good thing! Aahhh, really great sex, can’t complain about that at all... Dr. Oz recommends how many times a week?? Is it three? I wonder how many people actually do that... I’d like to see the stats on that one... I wonder whether my sex drive is normal? What the fuck is normal anyway?? Dammit, Jim is asleep already!! How in the hell does he do that so quickly?!? I truly am envious of that! Envy- one of the seven deadly sins. Hey, it could be worse. Which one of The Canterbury Tales stories involved envy. The only one I can remember is The Wife of Bath at this moment, but that was a different sin. Okay, so anyway, I got a little exercise, I had really great sex, and I ate pretty good today. They say those are important- whoever "they" is! Maybe "they" was Dr. Oz too. I like him! And he’s totally hot too- nice-looking and smart just the way I like ’em! He is definitely my favorite part of Oprah’s shows! Maybe I’ll buy his books. LOL, I surely don’t have enough books yet! Yeah right! So back to food... Well, I did eat Totino’s pizza rolls for lunch- BAD idea. I was burping the damn things they whole time I was sitting in B’s waiting room while Matt was in therapy. I had grits and turkey sausage links for breakfast, Matt’s idea of course. For dinner, hhmm, leftover spinach and a Subway sandwich. My utter disgust in anything white and creamy comes in handy here. Mustard has far less calories and fat than its gross white counterparts. Is a disgust in most anything white and creamy considered a phobia? I do fear accidentally eating them. I compulsively check my food for it before eating anything, and I can’t even make a sandwich with mayo for anyone else. Anyway, can’t complain about the calories and fat grams I save myself! Dammit, I should have had turkey instead of roast beef, but well, I wanted a change. I did put almost every veggie on the thing. I wish she hadn’t put so much oil & vinegar on it; I asked for "a little" and she poured it on. Oh well!

Okay, quit stalling! Start the sleep techniques you got in therapy. I can’t believe I have a therapist! I never would’ve expected that one, but she’s cool. Seeing her calms me. I need that. Anyway, on with the toes doze! The paper said the average person gets to the knees. The last two nights I have given up after I made it all the way to elbows- not a good sign! Maybe practice makes perfect...

Concentrate on your left toes- only the toes. Let everything else fade away. Don’t move the toes. They’ll start to tingle if you concentrate hard enough and don’t move em. Cool, I feel it! On to the right toes.

Did we close the garage door? I’m pretty sure we did after the walk. We’ve left the damn thing open twice this week. No, I KNOW Jim closed it tonight.

Get back to the toes. Good, still tingling. Keep going. Left ankle. Still your mind. Only think of the ankle. Tingling... Good, right ankle. You can do this! Only the right ankle.

Did you pay the bills. It’s payday time again. Okay, Kathy you know fucking well you paid the bills yesterday, and not only that, but you double-checked today to make sure you didn’t miss anything! Stop it!

Right ankle. Good everything is still tingling. Keep it going. Left calf. Only the left calf. Okay, good. Right calf. This is starting to move along quicker. Maybe that’s good.

Uh oh, I haven’t given Doppler her incontinence meds the last two days. That’s not good. Poor girl has to have that regularly. These carpets are already shot to hell. We don’t need anything else on them. Whenever it rains, I can already smell the prior dogs who lived here. That lady was gross! The carpets definitely need replacing. That is the biggest obstacle to getting this house into awesome condition. Wait no! The fucking wallpaper is the biggest obstacle in this house. I abhor wallpaper!! Whoever invented wallpaper should have ended up shipped off to the Dry Tortugas with Dr. Mudd. Now there’s a man who got a bum rap! Poor guy didn’t know he was helping the man who assassinated Lincoln! And his poor ancestors still have to live with the phrase "Your name is Mudd" as part of our standard lexicon. That sucks. But Mr. Wallpaper inventor- for him I have no sympathy. LOL! Speaking of the Dry Tortugas, we really need to go back to Key West. It’s been way too long. What was it? 1994! Good Lord, we had only been married three years then. Wow!

Anyway, yeah back to the house: Get rid of all wallpaper, new carpet, new hot tub cover (or preferably enclose the whole thing so I don’t freeze my ass off getting out of it in winter), and get rid of paneling downstairs. This house would be practically perfect! It could use some landscaping too... It is still my favorite house we have ever owned. I do love and miss Pensacola, but I love this house. Hell, I love Raleigh too. Man, I really miss San Diego. If I could have that weather and way of life here with this house, it would be perfect. I had great friends in SD. That is the best part of my law school hell! I have so many regrets about law school, but I can’t regret the people I met. Rach, Morgan, Tejal, Deborah, David, Shannon, Jay... I wonder how they’re all doing? LOL, I know how Rach is doing. I talk to her everyday! But dammit, I wish they’d transfer out here. I swear I’d drive to Jacksonville every weekend just to eat lunch with her- a worthwhile two hour drive! I also miss my orange tree in my backyard and my neighbor’s lemon tree. I made really good marmalade from those! I wish I had some of my marmalade left...

Dammit, that was a rough tangent! The tingling is all gone. I’ll have to start over. Left toes. Right toes. Left ankle. Right ankle.

I’m going to make some cakes this weekend. I’ve never made red velvet. MawMaw makes her with less red food coloring and it turns out looking pink in the spring. That is perfect! What a wonderful idea for Easter. I can take one to work. I’ll make one for Jim’s work. Maybe I’ll bake one each for B and S to thank them for all their help so far this year. Seriously, I don’t know how I would be surviving right now but for them. They definitely came around at just the perfect time- serendipity perhaps?? Hhmm, I’ll have to make a practice one to make sure I can handle it. Surely I can. The base cake mix is the same as the yellow cake and the chocolate, and I’ve got those down cold. I can’t wait! I love a new baking challenge!

Oh shit, I did it again. At least the feet are still tingling. Where was I? Right ankle. Good. Keep going. Left calf. Right calf. Left knee. Right knee. Left thigh.

Oo, ee, oo ah, ah, ting, tang, wadda, wadda, bing, bang. What the fuck?? I am singing the Chipmunks’ "Witch Doctor??" What the hell is wrong with me? What time is it anyway? I have been lying here for over three hours, and I am suddenly singing a Chipmunks’ song. Dammit, I give up.

Just so you know, there is much more. I don’t believe I ever went to sleep last night. I really can’t see the clock without getting out of bed since the IndoGlo is dying in the thing, and I just couldn’t bring myself to get up and check every time I felt the urge. These are just a few of the things floating through my brain early in the night when I still had some sanity (open for debate) left in me. I don’t even want to think about what might have happened later on in the night! Heaven forbid!