Alive and Well

For those of you who were concerned by my lack of blogging (I'm going to assume you exist), don't worry, I'm still alive. And well. My test is over, and until I get my scores (May 4), I can be blissfully ignorant and pretend I'm done for real.

As I explained to a friend, walking out of the testing center after the last test felt like the scene in the movie Shawshank Redemption when Morgan Freeman is finally released from prison after decades in captivity. ("So you're going to kill yourself now?" my friend asked. No, and perhaps that wasn't such a good example.) What I meant to emphasize was the feeling of being free for the first time in a long time, and having no clue what to do with it. I'll learn, I'm sure.

Last week, I decided to schedule the rest of the week off work and go home, and it's probably the smartest anticipatory decision I've ever made. Until I return to LA on Sunday, I'm catching up on sleep, home-cooked food, and bringing the part of my brain that experiences joy and happiness out of its dormant state. Lots of biking, dancing, and perhaps swimming. No stress.

Even shoulder devil has been on my side the last few days. Every time I start to feel a little guilty for missing work and doing nothing, he quips back "Shut up - you deserve this." Okay, shoulder devil, if you insist.

Finding Worth in the Worthless

Isn't it interesting when something you've written off as worthless finally proves its worth?

I've always been hard on myself for my inability to live in the present. My mental time machine flits between the past and the future, occasionally making a stop in the present to make sure everything is copasetic, but never staying for long. I guess you could say my mind is the husband that's always traveling for work, leaving my body in the present time to fend for itself.

But today, as I was attempting to nap between study sessions (yeah right), I realized that my tendency to transport myself to other times and places is the thing that has kept me sane for the last six months.

And that's definitely worth something.


















"Time machine, take me back to that rainy day last winter - the one with the warm fireplace and fleece blankets and hot chocolate. Aah, wonderful. This is the place."

Being a Grownup

One of the things I was most excited about when I accepted the job at my firm was the ability to accrue three weeks paid vacation per year. Three weeks! I pictured myself galavanting through Europe in three-week increments each year.

But the reality of vacation days (and part of being a grownup) is that these days are mostly used for un-fun things. For example, I am not at work today. Whoo, vacation.....right? Nope, it's a study day. In fact, every vacation day I've used since starting my job has been used for studying, sickness, or car accidents.

The same goes for my coworkers. The various "vacations" my teammates have taken in the last few weeks were used to get cars repaired, stay home to take care of sick spouses, and get dental work done (other than the partner, who actually was galavanting around Europe).

So, the moral of today's story is that when you're a grownup, vacation days often aren't used for vacations - unless you're a partner (but, given all the stress/liability/responsibility that comes with that job, I'll pass).

On the bright side, at least I can take days off to do un-fun things and still get paid my full salary.

New Paradigm: The Reluctant Marathoner

Stand at the finish line of any marathon and you will observe many types of runners. Here are the two extremes of the spectrum:

1. The marathoners who cross the finish line with ease; barely sweating, huge smiles on their faces, and usually keep jogging a little ways past the finish line because, whatever, it was only a marathon.

2. The reluctant marathoners who hobble across the finish line looking like death; sweating like pigs, muttering every curse word ever invented, and swearing that they will never run again after this stupid marathon is over.

But guess what? If a runner of either type completes the 26.2 mile course, they can both claim to have successfully completed the marathon. The end result is the same.

So, with 8 days left, I've decided to stop wasting so much energy being angry at myself for not being thrilled about my current state of life. (Not to be a martyr, but what sane human would be happy working 12 hour days and studying at night during the week, then studying 15 hours per day on weekends?) So, I don't have to enjoy running this stupid marathon, I just have to finish it.

I feel liberated.

In the Spirit of Sacrifice

I decided, after a brief moment of consideration, that I won't be giving up bread for Passover this year. Go ahead, judge me.

But in the spirit of sacrifice, here's what I will be giving up this weekend:

• Movie night
• A friend's birthday dinner
• A reunion with my best friends from high school (we've been trying to coordinate this for two years)
  
• Passover dinner with my family (my only living grandparent, who I don't see often enough, will be in attendance)
• My own half birthday
  

Instead, I will spend the majority of my weekend sitting alone in a conference room reading an incredibly boring book.

Considering this would have been my first weekend of freedom (had I not failed that damn test), I'd like to thank the universe for kicking me in the teeth.

Metallic Rules

We've all heard the Golden Rule (or some variation of it):
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you
Simple enough, right?

Here's a new rule to consider: the Silver Rule:
You can only expect others to treat you as well as you think you deserve to be treated.

Think about it.

Breaking News: Near Freudian Slip Results in New Work Rule

New Rule: No talking at work after 5 pm.

Why? Because tired people make sloppy mistakes.

I've been told that the volume of my voice increases measurably when I'm excited about something. I can't say that I disagree.

This evening, at approximately 5:20 pm, I was chatting with a coworker when the topic shifted to the subject of sweets. Sweets are probably my favorite thing....ever (chocolate sweets, in particular), so I was pretty much yelling in excitement at that point.

My plan was to say something was covered in chocolate, but my garbled, exhausted brain changed it to "chovered in co...." (do you see where this is going?). I don't think my coworker noticed what I'd almost said until I began giggling uncontrollably (because I am the most mature person on the planet). Neither of us could stop laughing for a very long time. Luckily the manager who happened to be walking by when the event occurred is the most oblivious person on the planet and had no idea what was going on. But still, I don't want this to become a trend, especially since I'm going out to see clients now (power suits and Freudian slips don't mix well).

Freud would be so proud.