Beautiful Days, Lessons to Learn

Sometimes, on beautiful days like this one where the sun shines high and the sky burns the bluest blue, it is hard for me not to hearken back to another sunny and perfect day: September 11, 2001. It is not the actual details of that day that haunt me, though of course it is in my mind. It is more the feelings and thoughts in my own life, before those planes hit the buildings, before we all changed forever.

On the way to law school that morning, while I admired the breathtaking brightness of the day, I rounded a turn in my Grand Am and was met with a semi-truck barreling toward me, across the center line, in my lane. At just that minute my breath caught in my chest for that milli-second I wondered if we would collide - and then, the truck righted itself and continued safely past me.

There never appeared a serious threat, only that glitch in time when I didn't know if the truck would veer left or right, to safety or catastrophe. I inhaled in relief and thought, "That's how fast it happens. People die in those seconds. I wouldn't die like that, right? Because I live a charmed life. But, still, I bet the people who die in those seconds believe they live a charmed life, too, right up to the moment of death. Wow. You just never know."

I got to school safe and sound. During that first class, our professor said the following in regards to why late court filings would be excused: "For example, when the World Trade Center was bombed some years ago, those days would not count." Strangely, a few minutes later I would emerge from that class to a different world, to a new kind of example of tragic circumstances.

All the death on that day reminded me repeatedly of my earlier experience: Right before something really bad happens, in a moment that separates life from the beyond, does everyone hold out hope it won't happen to them? Because they live a charmed life? When do you realize that, charmed life or not, things are not going to veer back to safety at the last second?
Before I laid down to sleep that night, I reached for a "dream journal" so that I might recount my thoughts on the day, detail what I learned about the relishment of life. But I could not get beyond my own slight scare that morning, eons from where I was that night. I could not rectify what had happened a few hours after that, could not wrap my brain around the things I had seen on television, the stories I had heard, and how it all seemed eerily cooincidental.

I still can't, except to say this: How mundane go the days when our reality shifts beneath us forever. Beautiful afternoons like this one are meant to be breathed in deeply and used as reminders to be grateful for the charmed lives we do indeed live.

And to never lose sight that, yes, sometimes things do change in a second.

Summer Reflections

Remember in elementary school, on the first day of that new grade, when the teacher would request a recantation of your summer vacation? Well, in honor of those childhood days gone by, I hereby post my summer highlights up to this point and extend an invite to everyone to do the same - it could be kind of fun to share our experiences via the world wide web! (It might be even better to continue the updates through the end of summer, into fall and winter and spring, and back again!)

Summer, 2008:

I spent three glorious days with my bestest friend in the universe (excluding those who share a bloodline or to whom I am legally betrothed) and relished every second together. At one point, we looked to each other and realized we had transcended friendship and were now family. It is nice to know I have that kind of connection in this uncertain world, and it made me appreciate my entire circle of friends, which would be incomplete without each individual link. All hail fine friends!

Dave Matthews and his band did not disappoint yet again - it is not summer in my heart unless I see a DMB concert at least once. Such perfect music swelling in the heat of dusk can't be beat, and I was fortunate to hear two magnificent shows. Each held special moments, but the best culminated in sharing one of my new favorite songs, "Sister" with my little sister in the encore of the Pittsburgh show. The clincher? Two major fans in front of us, high on life and music and other natural aids, declairing honestly, "And they really are sisters, too!" as we all shared the specialness. Blissful, really.

Tucker County, West Virginia, is likely not high on many vacation wish-lists, but for my husband and me, visits to our cabin on the Cheat River are truly "almost heaven." To bathe in the river surrounded by nature is another indication of summer and it hardly gets better than a float down the water on a hot summer day. So many memories that have now morphed into traditions to be savored into the future. Wild and Wonderful, indeed!

Summer isn't over yet, so neither is my list. How to identify each savory memory? The list would simply be endless. I won't subject anyone to that, but do please add your own summer touches! Stay cool!

Heal Yourselves!

Sometimes, in my over-contemplative nature, I wonder how it is exactly that we change - become one kind of person from another. These changes can be teeny-tiny or massive, but they are present everyday. It is hardly true that we put our minds to transformation into a new type of person - though, that can be true at times, like when I moved to college my freshman year and put my mind to turning into the type of person I always knew I was deep down inside.

More typically, the change sneaks up on you and whacks you on the head one day when you suddenly realize it's happened. I might be at "an age" where this is common (or it could just be me) but it seems to happen near-daily to me.

Over the past two years, things in my life changed quite a bit - the sorts of changes that are impossible to miss, no matter how many days you spend with your head under a pillow. The pace was furious for a while, and not in the good way people speak about in reference to new love or babies.

But lately, the changes are totally internal - my soul has shifted. I didn't know it happened, didn't feel any different at the time, but now, afterward, it feels I am a brand new individual. A metamorphasis occurred without my knowledge and here I am, the same but not.

And the strangest change of all? I like it. I am healthier. I'm not completely alien - I have the same interests and passions and loves as ever before. But my perspective is clearer. And I'll embrace it, for now.

Because I am sure the changes will continue. And when that happens, I'll be ready to be surprised all over again.

Streaming Through Life

You know, I always wanted to be one of those writers who could string along my stream of consciousness into thoughtful and coherent renderings of reality, ala Virginia Woolf. Alas, my stream of consciousness is so quirky and odd, I can barely keep up with it myself, never mind any further attempts at written eloquence. (Doesn't mean I won't try, though - one blog post today, a world of literary opportunity tomorrow...or some such nonsense!)

So, this morning I habitually turned on the tv first thing and flipped around to find something worthy of my coffee-drinking hour. The news won't do (too depressing - severe weather and soaring gas prices), Mike and Mike in the Morning on ESPN won't do (too depressing - all my passionate sports are mid-season), and there wasn't one episode of Law & Order on any channel (just plain depressing.) I settled on Logo, the homosexual-friendly channel, and watched "And the Band Played On," the 80's docudrama about AIDS and its entrance into our society. It then occurred to me nothing could possibly be more depressing than this - why was I putting myself through it?

I think because I knew how it turned out - not well, by any means, but it is somewhat better today than it was in the early 80's, so I think it restored a bit of faith in my askew view of our world. And faith is not something I have in bounds, believe me.

Faith got me thinking about George Michael, and since I was watching the gay channel, I started to remember a piece of paper I discovered deep in a box of late adolescent mementos. While re-organizing my downstairs office, I stumbled upon old writings - one in particular written between my freshman and sophomore years at WVU. I had just discovered a good friend was gay, and I lamented the bigotry and closed-mindedness he faced - and explored my own opposition to such hatred and my vow to love him and support him and fight intolerance at every turn. I wonder whatever happened to him. I hope he's still okay.

George Michael also reminded me of how much I miss "Eli Stone" on Thursday nights. I do love that Johnny Lee Miller. Hard to believe he was once married to Angelina Jolie. I love her too. And I love Brad tagging along with all those kids. I think if she wants to have a whole gaggle of kids, she should. She's rich and seems to truly love them. I wonder if Johnny Lee ever regrets letting her go - I saw in a tabloid that he still spent a lot of time with her pre-Pitt, so I bet he's kicking himself right about now.

I hope someday I can have a better grasp on my faith in myself, and those around me, and my life as a whole. I bet everyone has times when they have to simply "let it go" and see what happens. It's challenging, but I will hold onto that faith.

I hope George Michael guests on "Eli Stone" in the fall, too. It wouldn't be the same without him.

Mad Skills

I had a job interview this week, for another type of work-from-home position. During the discussion, one of the two interviewers asked me why I had applied, with all my education and experience and "skill." He actually used that word. I hope the shock did not show blatantly on my face, as I rarely associate myself with one who is "skilled."

I thought a minute and replied, honestly, that it was because the job had absolutely nothing to do with the court system or the law. I am pretty sure that is not what employers want to hear - that they are the default backup choice. But it is true, so I put it out there. I haven't heard yet if I've been hired. Shocking, huh?

Seriously, I spend hours of time doing internet searches for employment as far from the legal field as possible. Fear sets in randomly when I think of a legal career as my destiny. My husband thinks I am a flat-out kook - and he is likely onto something. While on sites to post resumes, pop-ups abound proclaiming "Go Back to School and Get Your Paralegal Degree!" and "Continue Your Education Online!"

It is a sign. And I do believe in signs, as we all know by now. When I think logically, it is insane - armed with law degree, girl attempts to break into bottom-level position as most-educated person in room. It does not even make sense to me!

But it also does not make sense to be miserable and feel disgusted with your life because you chose a degree program which turned out not to be the dreamy, respected profession you had hoped. The world is to the brim with miserable people, for whatever reason. Everyone has their burdens to bear and problems with which to deal. I realize I am fortunate at this moment to take the step back and ponder my future - most don't even get that small luxury.

So, I embrace it and refuse to be one more unhappy person in an increasingly unhappy world. I feel guilty sometimes that I am in this position - the money and time I spent to reach a goal I now disdain. But, no regrets. That is more in line with the misery of this world and I will not have it! Sooner or later, I'll figure it out. (Let's hope sooner, rather than later.)

And if not, it's not the worst thing either. I can always make my way somehow. I've got "skills" remember?

Put Your Money Where Your Dog Is

Everyday I wake up and scamper downstairs to the garage to release the hounds. Out they go, Emma first and then Gracie, her back legs bouncing down the driveway to start the day. These pups are bona fide members of the family as if we shared a blood line. I find I am one of those folks who refers to her dogs as her "kids" and is tempted to answer in the affirmative when asked "And do you have children?" right before I break out the pics of my smart, gorgeous, talented pooches.

Each day I laugh at some antic or another or just at their cuteness, lying on the couch curled together seamlessly, their deep snores in unison. These two adopted balls of fur provide hours of entertainment and cause my heart to nearly burst when they accompany me on my daily tasks around the house. Did you know my shadow looks a whole lot like a beagle - one who sits patiently and watches as I perform mundane chores like folding laundry or combing my hair?

Lately, it occurs to me that this is why people breed. I bet real human kids bring joy to a mother's heart in much the same way. This may seem like a trite sentiment coming from a mature thirty-something, but it is not meant that way. I am stone-cold serious. This feeling I get when my eyes well up with love for my dogs is new and exciting and not something for which I was prepared. To be honest, I have heretofore dwelled solely on the negatives of child-rearing (not to mention the birthing process itself - yikes!) Could it be that all the rhetoric is true? Could the maternal instinct rear its ugly head, even for the self-proclaimed forever childless by choice?

Gosh, it's a concept I have only toyed with briefly in my head. It is as outside my realm of reality as my picture on the cover of Time magazine - or so I had convinced myself. But, my birthday is fast approaching (well, in about three months' time anyway) and that is the crucial decision-making hour in my life: each year, on my birthday, I re-evaluate my non-procreation to determine if that is still my preferable course of action for the next year. So far, so good - consistency is key, so they say, and I have found many good reasons (and some iffy ones which were counted in my column nonetheless) to stay the course.

Could things be changing? Will my husband have a heart attack - literally - were I to come to an alternate conclusion this August? If I was a betting woman I would put my money on things staying much the same.

But you know, I never did like gambling that much anyway.

Let's Hear It For the Girls!

It is no secret that I am a movie junkie/cinemaphile/film geek. Most of my day is spent thinking about movies or reading about movies, not to mention watching movies - whether they be new or familiar. This is my passion in life and has been for as long as I can remember - my first movie experience at age four was watching "Pete's Dragon" at the Liberty theater in western Pennsylvania and I have been hooked ever since.

So, not surprisingly, I am thrilled beyond imagination that one of my favorite television shows is soon to grace the silver screen. Of course I speak of "Sex and the City: The Movie." The wait is almost over and I am ready: I have a new Carrie Bradshaw-inspired dress, stiletto heels, and a designer handbag poised and ready in my closet for just that occasion. My husband is also thrilled, as you can imagine, but he likes the dress and paid for the bag so he has agreed to accompany me.

But this film is more than just shoes and purses to me - though I sure am giddy about accessories. It allows me to swell with emotion about my own girlfriends. I am not as lucky as Carrie, Samantha, Charlotte, and Miranda because my friends are spread out around the country. But they are no less important to me. When I revel in the SATC world it reminds me of how lucky I am as a woman to have my own circle of girlfriends to lean on, cry to, drink with, and love.

And I really love them - I love them for the times we have shared when we were young and stupid and knew so much and so little all at once. I love them for the lessons we have taught each other about boys and fashion and family. Even better, I love them for our relationship today. Now, in my thirties, I value my friends more than ever before.

We understand the extreme highs and lows life can bring. We have suffered real heartaches by now, making the adolescent tears of the early twenties look tragically ridiculous. We have been through struggles and come out on the other side wearier but certainly wiser. We are closer now because we know more about ourselves and that is such a beautiful testament to growing into womanhood in the true sense of the word. Men have their buds, but they can never truly get what it means in your heart to be with your "girls" and how important it is for the soul.

Carrie Bradshaw once said that men were like a drug - they can bring you down, but sometimes they can lift you so high. That is so true. But that is also why my girlfriends are so important. They never bring me down. But they do lift me up so very, very high.