Thursday, August 28, 2008

rush for the change of atmosphere

I thought I would have this rush of energy and action after I quite my job. I mean, this wasn't a decision that snuck on me. I went through many phases, including what I called the "if I learned how to ski, I could be a ski instructor" phase. (Translation for those who don't me: absolutely, friggin' flailing about what I wanted to do next. Considering leaving The Law. Because, seriously, it takes more than a basic understanding of how to ski to become a ski instructor!) I thought that by committing to not doing this anymore, the "what happens next" would flow.

That was definitely my experience the last time I quit my job. Way back in 2000, I quit my job and within a week I had .... pruned the friendship tree, stopped seeing the guy I wasn't see anyway, acquired the beautiful Ms. Gia, and ... decided to take the LSATs and apply to law school. (And that decision definitely snuck up on me.) It was all just the most natural thing in the world - each of those thoughts and actions came to me so seamlessly - like bubbles rising to the surface of water.

So, I quit and I waited for the wave. And ... I'm still waiting. I have a good sense of what I want to do, but it seems, no "get up and go" to get it done anytime soon. And, I have to accept where I am. I've often found myself to be very objective-driven, and respecting the process often galls me. Thankfully, I'm old enough now to find my patterns and predilections amusing more than anything else. And right now, in this exact moment, I have to respect that I still have some processing, clearing, synthesizing, other action verb-ing to do before I'm ready to launch in another direction. I am the field lying fallow.

Monday, August 25, 2008


And it's done. I just quit my job. Without another lilypad to jump to.

I'm excited and, how you say, shit-scared.

Cue the fireworks.

Friday, August 22, 2008


We somehow found ourselves away from the party, sitting on the floor under the dining table. Sitting on the floor, a jumble of knees and long legs, the three of us reminded me of girls - sneaking away from the adults to sip purloined wine and giggle over the grown-ups inscrutable interactions. On the bookcase near us, N spotted a section of books about trees and asked me to grab one. She flipped through it animatedly, offering commentary on some local flora. Then, she slammed it closed. Resting her hand upon its cover, she said, 'Okay, 5 favorite trees. GO!'

And in that moment, I loved her. And I loved the situation. I loved being holed up under the dining table, sneaking an arm up to grab goat-cheese stuffed dates. I loved N's intensity and sincerity in asking us (fellow 30-somethings) for our 5 favorite trees. It was this beautiful, incandescent moment of unexpected childhood.


For the record, the 5 trees I chose off the top of my head were:

(1) Russian Olive - I love the contrast of the coloring between leaves and bark
(2) Gingko - it's a living fossil, yo!
(3) Eucalyptus - love the way it smells, even though it is bad if planted in areas where it is non-native
(4) Madrona
(5) The trees that make helicopters. And, yes, having taken botany in CANADA, I should have been able to remember that the trees that make helicopters are MAPLES.

Friday, August 15, 2008

Makeout King

I loved this, and I hope you will too. (H/T Crooks and Liars.)