Wednesday morning

It's Wednesday morning - or what so many office people refer to as hump day. Which I can't stand by the way. I don't know why. I hate that people call it hump day. Getting over the weekday hump - half way through the work week. It's trivial things like this that we working people have to say to ourselves to make ourselves feel better. Oh yeah, well it's not getting any better. Tomorrow will be Thursday, then Friday, then the weekend passes in a flash, and guess what folks - it'll be Monday again. Oh yes, all over again - it will happen. There's no end in sight to this working thing. It's hogwash, I tell you. You try to make yourself feel better by saying we've made it half way through the week. Well, frankly it doesn't make me feel better at all. Nonetheless, I too will try to make myself get through it.

Life is too short, as the comedian Katt Williams told me in our netflix movie night date last night. He's right. Life is too short to be doing things you don't want to do. But for some reason I haven't found a way to not work.

But I have dreams. Oh do I have dreams. Let me tell you about one of them. I fall in love with a fireman. Not a super young one, like many of them are. Not someone in their twenties - oh god - they would just be a kid, a juvenile. Not one of the old ones who wears a mustache - like they all seem to be required to have. No, not the chief of the station, or the captain. But someone in his thirties. Someone who's ready to settle down. Anyway, we fall in love, have a quaint and intimate wedding with family and close friends. Nothing outlandish or fancy. Because we're both mellow. But we're both madly in love in with each other. Why a fireman, you might ask? I wish I could tell you. I wish I could rid myself of this infatuation, this juvenile infatuation with men in navy blue uniforms that rescue people. And it's only firemen mind you. I'm not into the police. And I'm not into military boys.

We fall in love, like I was saying, and we move in together after the wedding. I have a baby relatively soon, and he tells me - oh honey, you don't have to work. I want you to be comfortable. I know it's such a hard job to raise our baby. And I want you to be able to do what you have to to raise our baby. I'm going to take care of you. You're my woman. You're my wife. You're the mother of my child. Oh yes, he will say that to me. And I'll say but baby, what about the money. What about my student loans? I'll try to get back to work as soon as possible. Don't be ridiculous. Do you think I care about money. I'm your man. I'm going to take care of you and our child. You're my queen. Besides, work stresses you out baby. And I want you to be happy. Oh yes, his mission in life will be how to make me happy. And don't get me wrong, that'll be my mission in life to. I will want to make him happy too. After all, he will be my king.

I wake up in the morning. Sometimes he will be gone already, having to get to the station early for his shift. I'll wake up and tend to our baby. I'll put the baby in the stroller and go for a morning walk. I'll come home and have my coffee and breakfast, feed the baby, and write. I'll write my heart out. Oh, and I'll become a published writer. I'll write children's stories and young adult novels. Because I have the heart of a kid. There's something naive about me. I'm not bitter. I am young at heart.

Sometimes my man will not come home because he has to work double shifts. He works overtime too to support us. And oh how I love him. He's a good man. He's a great man. He is kind and generous. We laugh all the time together. He has a young spirit too.

I eventually return to work, at least part time, because I want to contribute to our household. He doesn't understand why I want to return to work. But I don't want to take advantage of him. He's my life. I work a little bit, until it's time for the next baby to pop. We have a big family you see. We have four children. A house filled with the pitter patter of kids. With the cries, the screams, the ouchies, the love. Our home is filled with love. And don't forget the cat. He doesn't like cats, but he accepts that a cat is part of my life. Like I accept his dog. I'm not particularly fond of dogs, but for him, I accept it too.

We're family people. His family loves me and my family loves him. We become family. We have barbeques at our home with family and friends. We go on family trips. We grow closer each year we are together. We are best friends. We laugh, we cry, we get mad at each other, but at the end of the day we are in it to win it.

That is my dream. But far be it for me to say that will come true. You see I am torn. I am afraid sometimes to dream. For I have learned that life never ever turns out the way you planned. So what do I do? Do I prepare myself for the opposite to come true? I will stay single the rest of my life. Always dreaming of a life that is unattainable for me. I will become in the most traditional sense of the word, a spinster, a modern day spinster. Oh how I'll look upon those women with children, with envy, with contempt. They have what I want so bad. Or will I end up with a jerk, and get a divorce? I mean what's a girl to think? What am I to think when what I want or plan for life never happens?

I don't know the answer. But I know that dreaming feels good. And perhaps I am too much in my head, in my imagination, up in the clouds. But that is my nature. I am a Pisces after all. We are up in the clouds. We are aloof. And I'm an introverted Pisces at that.

A girl who fell in love

Once upon a time, there was a sweet, pretty girl who lived in the urban town of Los Angeles. She was a good girl. She cared for her family. She always tried to do the right thing. She was minding her own business, doing errands, picking up groceries, when she stopped into a 7-11 convenience store to pick up a pack of smokes. Oh I hardly smoke anymore, she thought. I'm not hurting anyone. It's just one or two a day, she convinced herself. She patiently waited in line, as the gentleman in front asked the clerk for two Quick Picks and two Scratchers. Poor fool, she thought. He has a better chance of getting struck by lightning than he does winning the lotto.

When all of a sudden, the door to the store opened, and Malila turned her head to the right. It was at this moment that she looked into the eyes of the six foot plus tall, dark, and handsome man. Their eyes locked for what was in scientific reality only a triple millisecond, but what seemed to last an eternity. The man wore a navy blue uniform, black boots, and had the name, K. Bradley initialed over his left breast pocket. K. Bradley walked towards Malila with an expression almost happy, almost frightened at the same time. He couldn't quite believe his eyes. He had spotted this beautiful fair maiden, girl of his dreams.

The clerk woke Malila from her reverie. Maam, are you ready?
Embarrassed, Malila walked forward to the counter and asked for one box of Camel Lights.
Will that be all? the friendly Pakistani clerk asked.
Yes. I mean no. Can I get a lighter too?
He nodded and rang up the total.
She handed him the cash and dropped the change into her handbag.
Malila didn't want to turn and look for the fireman. She walked slowly towards the exit of the store. She pushed the door open but it suddenly gave way and she stumbled a bit forward. She turned to see why the door became so light, and K. Bradley was holding the door open for her. She gave a gracious smile. Thank you.
You're welcome.
They both stood a few feet outside the store entrance, looking at each other, smiling. Malila began to rub her right thumb with her index finger, something she does when she's nervous.
The fireman finally said, I know this is going to sound crazy, but can I take you out to dinner?
You don't even know my name.
But you're going to tell me when you give me your phone number.
Wow, confident, she thought. But she liked it.
I'm Malila. And you are K. Bradley.
Hello Malila. Pleased to meet you. I'm Kevon.

Malila did something crazy and gave Kevon her number. She went home that night, giddy as a teenager. Her heart beat like something never before. She couldn't sleep. Little did she know that she had met her soul-mate at 7-11 of all places. No, for now, she thought he was a cute date, and was flattered that such a man's man had paid her any attention. She lived in a city, where it seemed more and more of those types of guys were an oddity, near extinction. But there was something about him. Something in his eyes.

Kevon continued to work his shift that night. When he and his partner returned to the station after the last emergency call, he couldn't sleep either. He tossed and turned in his bunk. All he could think of was Malila and her smile. It electrified him in a way no other girl had done to him before. He was astounded that such a girl would even give him the time of day. She was classy, sexy, and gorgeous. He became nervous at the thought of their first date. He would do everything in his power to impress her. He wondered how many dates he'd be able to convince her to go on with him. Little did he know, that on that night on his stop at a local 7-11 store to pick up a bottle of Gatorade, he would meet his soul-mate. There was something about her. Something in her eyes.

To be continued...

Now Tuesday

Oh again here we are. I sit on my lazy chair and look at the time on my cable box. The time is approaching when I have to get up, take a shower, and rush to work. But how I'll fool myself into thinking I have more time. I just need to write a little bit more. I just need to listen to this song one more time. It makes me feel alive.

Last night I did buy another watermelon. I did watch monday night football that took place in the much talked about Dallas Cowboys stadium. They're quite proud of it - those Texans. I rooted for the other team - Carolina something. I don't remember who won. I didn't want Tony Romo's team to win, is all. I feel like he must have broken Jessica Simpson's heart. And to hook up with another blonde, right away - well that's just insult to injury. But as I watched Tony Romo and listened to the announcers speak about him, I was convinced he is a good athlete - and what if he's just a home town boy who made it to the NFL - what if he's a good guy, what if it was Jessica Simpson that was too much to handle? I don't know. I suppose there's a part of me that's biased. I want the girl to be happy. I want myself to be happy. I get hurt when I see a guy who's recently broken up, go right away to the rebound girl. While the girl is sitting at home, trying to give herself pep talks - that she's better off without him. How many times do I do that? I want to see Jessica Simpson settle down. Suppose just like I want to see myself settle down. I'm still waiting for that prince charming to sweep me off my feet. I hope he's around somewhere.

But I caught myself. Try not to judge. First of all, I know nothing about Tony Romo or Jessica Simpson. They're celebrities. One a singer celebrity, the other an NFL celebrity. They're also just people. They could be the nicest people in the world. I suppose I'll give them the benefit of doubt. Maybe I just want to see a fairy tale love story in real life. Something to prove to me that it exists. And while I may not meet an NFL player, or get married to one, I might just meet a prince charming in my world. Someone in my humble world. A good guy. A really good guy. Oh how I long for that. I'll keep hope alive, I suppose, somewhere in the recesses of my heart. As much as I'll try to deny it, and say I don't need a man, deep down, I secretly yearn for one. Deep down, I'm a little girl, who wants to fall in love. Who wants to experience unconditional love with a man who will be my husband and father of my children. Are you out there? Do you hear my soul calling out to you? Oh soul mate - how long must I wait for you? I suppose I have all the time in the world.

Monday a Day Late

This is from yesterday. I didn't have a chance to blog in the morning. So I wrote my thoughts down at work. And here they are:

So I'm half way through my work day, and still in a daze. In a foggy daze having the Monday back to work blues. Why yes, I'm sure the time will roll around when it's time for me to go home. And yet that's all I can think about. Why maybe tonight I should surely blog my feelings about today. But we have monday night football to think about. We have a date with Katt Williams - but alas he arrives tomorrow night in my mail box in that familiar red netflix envelope. For tonight I must be content with watching football. I can also buy more watermelon - it seems I need to eat that everyday especially when it's hot. Who wants a cold apple, when you can have a cold, watery, juicy watermelon. Nothing quite like it.

I have an unsettling feeling in my stomach. I want to return to a happy place, to a safe place, something I remember from childhood. I want to close the curtains in my apartment, sit on the floor and hope no one comes to bother me. It's a feeling, a strong desire to go home and not be around people. Maybe this is a symptom of being a hermit. I don't know what it is. Just that I long to go home. To a place that once existed. To a bernadette maurice that once existed. Oh yes, she's coming back. The little girl inside, the little princess. I'm tired of being a grown up. I'm tired of having to be serious all the time. Watching my niece, I remember the unadulterated joys of childhood, the bliss, the happiness, the raw emotions.

The American Dream

Saturday morning - a lovely morning indeed. A day set aside for errands, for cleaning the apartment. A day for visiting family. A day for doing laundry. I'll take Saturday any day over a week day work day. Oh yes, indeed. I'm not complaining today.

But I am pondering the notion of the American dream. As I sit in my apartment, my hot apartment with no air conditioning, I relish the morning breezes, for I know soon it will get unbearably hot. The kind where you sweat doing nothing, just sitting in your own house. The kind where the beads of sweat form on your upper lip and you wipe it off with the back of your hand. Oh yes, the summer heat, even though we are approaching October. But this is LA. I wouldn't take it any other way.

And I sit here listening to the soundtrack of Malena, the Italian film, I raved about a couple blogs ago. That film indeed touched my heart, and the music from it, continues to move me. It has touched a part of my soul and makes me feel alive in the most wondrous way. I can't describe it. It is like the music describes what I feel in my soul. It puts into sound the way I feel inside. It's remarkable.

So the American dream - why think about this now? I guess of late, I have been thinking how life never ever goes the way you planned. Like me, for instance. Oh yes, education was going to be my way out. I would become an educated independent professional woman. I would drive a nice car. I would own my home. I would be upper middle class, if you will. Oh contraire mon frere, or mon soeur, rather, is what the universe replied to me. Oh life will not turn out the way you thought it would. Here I am, still a member of the working class. Oh my friends, I have not made it into the upper middle class. I do not drive an expensive car. I am not rich. Sure I am a lawyer, but that does not equate into wealth. Oh I have student loans. And I live a very frugal lifestyle, not because I choose to, but because I have to. Don't get me wrong, I like that I'm an educated woman, if you will. I like that I am smart. I value my education and my degrees. I'm just coming to terms with the fact that I have not achieved the American dream. Like many other Americans, I don't have a retirement. If it weren't for my job, I wouldn't be able to afford health insurance. Something I believe all Americans should have a right to. Yes, I'm socialist that way. People shouldn't have to die because they couldn't afford health care, because they didn't have insurance. People shouldn't have to take another mortgage out on their house to pay for a surgery.

I see people, family members, who have money. They can afford to do anything. They can afford to fly to Paris on a whim. And that's great for them. I am not them. I can fly to Paris in my dreams.

Why don't I work at a firm and make more money? Because my soul won't allow it. I worked at the Public Defender's Office and I realized that was not for me. The arguing back and forth, with everyone. Oh not just against the DAs, the judges, but also with court staff that are against you because you're a defense attorney, but also with your client who doesn't think you're a real lawyer. Don't get me wrong. It was an amazing experience. But god, you have to love the lime light, the spot light. You have to relish being in court every day and going to trial, speaking in front of the jury. You have to enjoy the adversarial system. I love criminal law. That is one of my passions when it comes to the legal profession. But I have learned that I love it from a distance. I love it from the seat in the audience, watching one of my dear friends give his closing argument in his defense of an alleged murderer. I love watching the family members in the audience, family of the alleged victim, family of the accused. Oh the turmoil. It's so palpable. I love watching the jurors. I love watching the entire courtroom scene. But as for my days, being in the shoes of the defense attorney, that I do not miss. Oh I believe I'm meant to be a writer. I'm happiest writing down the observations. I'm skilled at feeling other people's emotions, their pains, almost to a fault. For sometimes, it drains me. And I have to protect myself.

I went to law school motivated by idealism and a desire to help people. How naive of me, right? I should have just joined the Peace Corp after college. So as I come to terms with me not making it, not achieving the American dream, the dream that my parents hoped I would achieve, because they didn't achieve it either, I accept my lot in my life. I do what I can to improve it. But I try not to lose sight of what's important in life. The things that don't cost money. Laughter, love, family, friends, cats. Is it really important to own an expensive brand name bag, something I thought I would be able to buy myself? Is it really important to have the expensive clothes? Is it really important to own all the latest technology, the latest flat screen television? What if I can't travel as often as I'd like? Won't I appreciate it all the more, when I do finally make it on that trip I've been dreaming about? Won't it mean all that more to me? Won't I cherish it because I know how long it took for me to get there? Don't I value generosity above so much other nonsense? And I've noticed those with less, are almost always more generous with what they have. And maybe I won't have much tangible stuff in life. But I can always be generous, especially with my heart. And isn't that what's important? Isn't that what will make me happy?

Friday at Last

So it is Friday at last. Again, another Friday. How time flies. What can I say? I woke up at 4:30, couldn't go back to sleep, eventually went back to sleep, and missed waking up in time to get to the pool by 6. I really wanted to swim too. But maybe I didn't want to swim that bad. You see, I have to get to the pool when it first opens. Being the introvert that I am, I do everything in my power to avoid crowds. That's why I don't go to the pool on weekends. Oh how the people come out in flocks. It's quite annoying. And anyway, I get to the pool when it opens to ensure I get my own lane to swim in. Nobody wants to share a lane with someone you don't know. I guess I should just speak for myself. I don't want to share a lane. I want that lane to be all mine. Where I can swim laps and dream that I'm a fish. Not really, but you get the idea. And when you see someone that doesn't look like they are a good swimmer, you don't stop at the walls, you swim continuously to give the signal - I'm a serious swimmer, don't even think about trying to share my lane. I'm kind of a grump to those of you that don't know me. I'm a solitary person, and I enjoy it. I only enjoy spending time with people that I'm close with. And that's because I don't enjoy small talk, frivolous conversations. It's not me. I'm not very skilled at being fake.

Wow, I'm on one this morning. So onto another subject. What did I initially start writing about? Oh yes, about it being Friday. So Friday has come yet again. Inevitable, isn't it? When just on Monday, I dreaded going back to work, now Friday has arrived. Still I would love to not go in. I would love to sit at home and write all day. Go to a coffee shop for a little while. Have some ice cold iced tea in this atrociously hot weather. Read. Go swimming in the middle of the day as there will probably not be that many people. Just never after work - that's when everyone comes out of the wood works. And the kids - oh god the kids, they're so annoying.

But alas, I will not be able to stay home today. I must be responsible. I must be an adult and go in. For I have duties to take care of today. People are relying on me. I have work to do. Oh how the work is neverending. But I should find comfort in knowing it is Friday. Tonight I can relax knowing the next day there is no work. I might even treat myself, indulge myself to a craving for a cheeseburger and fries from In-N-Out. The topic of conversation yesterday in the lunch room. Yes, I may very well, decide to splurge and drive to not the nearest In-N-Out because that's a crowded one!! No, I'll drive to one a little bit further - but much more worthwhile because it has less people! And by now, you should be getting the hint, that I avoid big groups and hordes of people at all costs.

Why yes, even family get togethers and reunions are cause for strife in my mind. They are draining. All the people, all the children. All the food. All the commotion. All the laughter, and conversations. You see again I am not particularly adept at conversing with large numbers of people on a shallow basis. I don't find any purpose in it. I don't get anything out of it. It requires much effort and strain on my part. And perhaps that is why all my life, I have never had a big group of friends. I can't keep up with the group mentality. No, I much rather march to the beat of my own drummer. Is that even the saying? Or have I changed it?

Needless to say - I wish I didn't have to work. I really do. I know it's not a reality. But who really wants to work? Who? I implore you to answer me!! :) And when people tell me they love what they do, that they have never taken a vacation, because everyday going to work is like a vacation - in my head, I'm like Who do you think you're talking to? Do I look like a fool to you? I'm thinking of one particular person who said this to me. We dated, if you can even call it that for a short minute. And he tried to throw that garbage my way. Inside, I was thinking - that's actually kind of sad that he hasn't taken a vacation. That going to work is his vacation. That he hasn't even ever been out of the country. And I know that not everyone can afford the luxury of traveling abroad. But this fool was an attorney. He had the money. To me, I knew we weren't meant to be, because he didn't have a desire to see what's out there. I'm a nomad at heart. In my dreams, I travel the world, meeting all sorts of people. I live in the community, not as a tourist, but more as a visitor trying to learn another culture. I see the universality of the human condition and world. That's one of my dreams. And if someone tries to throw cow dung my way and says he doesn't need a vacation, that he doesn't have a desire to see the world, well then that's just a clear signal, that we're not meant to be. And better sooner than later I find out.

Monday September 21

I don't know what it is about Mondays that makes me want to write. Maybe it's a way to proscrastinate getting ready for work. Maybe it's a way to rebel against work. Instead of getting there early, or on time, I'll take my time and write my heart out. It's a way of survival. Emotional survival.

So if you haven't noticed, I suppose I am the serious type. Always pondering life, its purpose, trying to analyze myself, trying to find myself. So last Monday as I caught the elevator, maybe I wrote this already, the maintenance guy that I'm cool with, held the doors open for me. We exchanged the usual greetings but I made a frown and said how I hate Mondays. He has a harder job than me. He works the parking lot and is kind of like the handy man in the building. He told me "At least you have a job. At least you're not in the hospital." I realized what a fool I looked like. I stepped out of the elevator on my floor and told him he was a wise man (not in a smart aleck way). He made me realize how I can be so grumpy!!

So now another Monday has arrived. And I have less than an hour to get ready and to get to work. But still I take my time. This is my time. I usually wake up early. The mornings are my favorite. The quiet, the stillness of the morning before sunrise. Knowing most are still sound asleep. Just me and my cat. I make my coffee and this is my favorite time of day. I listen to Ben Harper right now - a CD I purchased at a garage sale on Sunday morning. Another favorite thing of mine to do. It was funny. One of the guys selling his stuff spoke to me in Spanish and told me how much the CDs were that I was looking at. I understood his Spanish. I am after all an LA native. I am often mistaken for a Latina and this humors me a lot. I usually try not to disappoint. I nod my head as if in understanding and respond in whatever Spanish I know. But sometimes the other person continues in a tirade of fast spoken Spanish that I have no idea what he or she is saying. And at such time, I try to escape the situation, for fear of being found out that I am an imposter. That I am not Latina.

I'm totally off topic this morning and writing random stuff. So pardon me my tangential escapades. I just don't want to go to work. Despite what the handy man reminded me of last week. I want to stay home. I want to continue looking through my childhood pictures that I picked up from my uncle and aunt's. I want to continue to reminisce about a time long past. I want to remember what I was like back then. I want to create a collage of pictures and put them up on my wall. I want to write all day. I want to finish Brothers Karamazov. I'm almost done. I'm at the part where the defense attorney will finally speak.

I want to recommend Malena - another movie to reach my all time favorite list. An Italian movie. You have to watch with subtitles. It's a beautiful film that made me sob at the end. Why? Aside from being a melodramatic, emotional, hopeless romantic - to me one major theme of the movie was unrequited love. Oh how it moved me to tears. I can't wait to watch it again. I keep thinking about the movie too. That's when I know it has touched something inside of me.

But alas time has caught up with me. I want to eat more and finish my coffee. Then I have to go to work. So until next time, arrivederci.

A New Humility

This morning I awake with a new humility. Don't ask why - just that today I look at the world a little bit differently. Maybe I am reminded that life is precious. That in life you get thrown curve balls when you were least expecting it. Life tests us. Oh life can be unfair. The challenges, the adversities that we face. I know I'm not the only one.

I was looking through one of my books of quotations - and the pertinent one for today is: "What does not destroy me, makes me strong." by Friedrich Nietzsche. Well we've all heard that quote said in different ways. What doesn't kill me only makes me stronger. I usually don't like that saying. It's like a way of rationalizing the really bad things that happen in our lives. But what other way is there to look at it. If we don't stay positive, then life will get the best of us. What other way is there to be - other than positive? Life is better when you have a positive outlook. There's crappy things happening all the time around the world - are we just going to frown and focus on the negative? Or are we going to find the positive? The silver lining behind the cloud?

I choose the positive. God knows I've had my share of hardships in life, and I'm not trying to get pity about that. Life is just interesting that way. You think you have it all planned out - and bam, life throws you a curve ball, that sweeps the floor from underneath you. Your world comes crashing down. You ask why to the universe? Why me? And you do not get an answer, not right away anyway.

You try to get Buddhist about it. You remind yourself that you chose this life before you were even born. You chose this life path and journey for the lessons you would learn, for the opportunity your soul would have to become even more enlightened. To grow on it's path of enlightenment. Of this world, you are not. You have to remind yourself, that your time on this planet is fleeting. Remember what's important. What's truly important. Living a good life. Treating other people with kindness and respect. Not judging people. You don't know what it's like to walk in their shoes. You can't judge a book by its cover.

And all this is fine and dandy. You also have to give yourself permission to be human, to be scared. To be frightened, and sad. It's okay. Cry, you feel better afterwards. It's a cleansing of the soul. Isn't that what you read once about a particular American Indian tribe? You don't remember. But you know it must be true.

Ode to Buddy

Buddy is my orange tabbie cat.

B - U - D - D - Y
You're a special kind of guy.
You will always like to lie
On my leg or my thigh.
You will never ever tell a lie.
You couldn't even hurt a fly.
B - U - D - D - Y
You're such a special kind of guy.

(Buddy is currently sitting on my lap as I write this simple ode to him.) It's like he senses things. Ahh, that is why we two get along so well. Most people don't understand our introverted, mysterious ways. But that is why the universe brought us two together!!!

Mad About Love & Men

This morning I woke up and looked at my ever so loyal tabbie. He does make life better. He loves me unconditionally. Oh, is there a man out there who will do the same? I sat down to the computer, my internet was slow, so I started in my journal. And I noticed I was mad. Mad at men. I just don't get them. Well, to be truthful, I was mad at one particular one. I won't name names of course. Considering that so few people on the planet know me - no one will be able to figure out who I'm talking about. Save for the few people closest to me. And with them, I share my heart.

I suppose I'm a pretty normal individual. Looking for love. Who isn't? As much as I say I'm fine being single, of course I long for love. I'm learning to be happy single. To being happy on my own. And it's quite liberating, quite empowering, if you will. I like that I can depend on myself to get things done. That I don't need someone to help me. Don't get me wrong - it's nice when you can have a man to do certain things for you. Oh and let's get one thing clear - I am kind of old fashioned. Not conservative - maybe not totally. And I'm not talking politically either. I mean I love it when a man still believes in chivalry. How romantic is that?

Back to being mad at this particular guy. Oh he kills me with his nonchalant attitude. When I know that's not how he feels. He tries to play it cool, yet I know deep down, he's falling for me. But he's too afraid to admit it. Well, I feel like I've disclosed too much already. So let's leave it at that.

But I can't help but wonder why as a young girl, I was fooled into believing all those fairy tales about the knight in shining armor. I haven't come across him yet. I suppose that's what I'm dealing with now -- the repercussions of a belief in a fairy tale that only exists in books. I'm coming to terms with the fact that life is not like a fairy tale. And perhaps I'm behind my counterparts, my peers, in this respect. I'm naive, if you will. But be ashamed of that I no longer will. My quote for today is: To thine own self, be true.

Monday Night Football - it turns out to be

Ah Monday has almost come and gone. I usually write these introspective reflections in the morning. But for tonight I'm doing it while watching NFL football, with Oakland leading against San Diego. Don't mistake me for a football fan. I know nothing about the sport - only I've just started watching this year. Why? I'm finding that as I grow older... that sometimes you need an outlet to get through life. Or maybe it's just me. But I need things to keep me excited. To keep me going, if you will.

I just became an avid fan of basketball this past season. It was so exciting. Part of it is the sport - it's an exciting game, fast paced, filled with drama. And if you're an LA native, the Lakers scene goes hand in hand with the celebrity scene. Needless to say, I am looking forward to the next season. Can't wait to watch the superstar Lebron James and my little crush Trevor Ariza.

So while I have also gotten into baseball - in large part due to an upbringing by a mom who loves the Dodgers, I have also started a fascination with football. In the past I thought it was such a violent game. Bunch of jocks running into each other. But I'm realizing there is a sport to it indeed. And sometimes I wonder about the person who is the football player. Did he always like football? Was this his dream to be an NFL player? What is his life like?

So all that to explain that as I'm writing this, Oakland is playing San Diego and I'm rooting for Oakland. Don't know the rules, only that if one team gets the ball to one end, they score some points, and that if they kick the ball through the two poles, they get even more points. It's almost a silly game if you think about it. The point is to get the ball from one side to the other without the other team stopping you. But why with the force of the bodies? Will boys always be boys? Is there something about being physical that's so predominant with the male gender? Who knows?

It just reminds me of Gladiator or something. These big guys are performing in the modern day coliseum. Spectators fill the stands as they watch the men below "fight" it out. Fans who can get so intense about the game, even though the game has no impact on their personal lives. But I get it. I'm beginning to get it. Was it last night I watched another game? Chicago against Green Bay. And I was rooting for Chicago, so I got mad when they weren't able to win. I too get invested. Why? I don't know. It's not rationale. Some things you cannot explain!

Second entry

So I want to clarify. I do email my best friend every morning. She is my best friend from adulthood. I have to say this because I love my best friend from childhood. And I anticipate she will read my blog every now and then. She lives in Australia now, and she is my kindred spirit. She is a beautiful person whom I love so dearly. There is no other than my best friend from childhood.

First Entry

Well, this is my first official blog entry. It's a big deal for me who's typically reserved and private. But I suppose I have a desire to write my feelings, observations, thoughts and share them with whomever is interested in listening. I don't know quite where to start, only that I'm super excited and I hope this turns out to be rewarding.

Every morning before I begin my day at work, I send an email to my best friend. She's a lawyer too. In this ritualistic email, I don't expect a response from her, as she practices a different area of law than I, and so is often on the road on her way between different courthouses. But I write her the nonetheless. Perhaps it's a chance for me to reflect and ponder the upcoming day of a profession that I have detested until only quite recently.

I write a lot of funny stuff to my best friend. And it seems that every morning I have so much to say. I just get so much off my chest. It makes my day so much more bearable. But why send her an email? As opposed to just keeping my reflections to myself? After all, I write in a journal, the old fashioned kind. I'm not sure I know the answer. I must on some level obviously want to share my experiences with someone else. I find comfort in knowing I'm not the only one.

This is not going to be a blog about how a lawyer hates her profession. Most people are surprised to find out I am one. I am quirky, sensitive, funny, and down to earth. I am super mellow and low-key. It's just going to be my blog. Someone may read it, someone may not. Maybe no one will read it. Maybe people will write mean things to me. I guess I'll take that chance until it's too much to bear and I stop this blogging thing. I guess I'll find out.