Hollandaise v. Paralegal Studies

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It's all come down to this.

“It’s not you, it’s me!”

Believe it or not, I’m not talking about a relationship! In what feels like the millionth time since I graduated from college, I have decided to make a change. But this time, it feels reasonable.

Since January, I’ve been attending a local community college taking paralegal studies courses. I started out strong, I was enthusiastic, I made some friends, and I had a passing interest in the material. Unfortunately, as the semester chugged along, I lost my enthusiasm and interest and became rather uninterested in the subject. I had a few friends at school to help me through some courses that proved challenging to me, but it just wasn’t working out. Then came the F.

Let me be very clear here: I have not gotten an F on anything since high school. High school. I braved science, math, silent film studies without dipping below a B+. How the hell could I have gotten an F on a real estate law exam?! I was stunned, but I owned it. I deserved it. I didn’t study enough, and I hadn’t listened enough in class. In fact, the F was pretty helpful in the long run, because it made me realize something: I missed my old career in editing.

I immediately started to do some research, reach out to my contacts and look for jobs. And guess what? I got a job! An editorial job! It’s a part-time summer position, but it’s a great opportunity that pays well and offers a lot of experience. I’m the new summer editor for a lifestyle paper, and I couldn’t be happier. On my first day, I wrote about lobster rolls, where to find the best craft beer in the area and the renovation of a local library. I was back in my element.

I don’t regret this past semester. I did meet some great people, I tried something new and I came out of it having learned a great deal (just not about real estate law). I fully intend to keep in touch with Foula, Allie, Faye and Eileen, and I can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of us. But for now? I’ve gotta go review a restaurant. Cheers!

Aspects of Love (or Alone-Time)

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Vienna by Billy Joel

I know, I know, it’s been too long since my last update. But so much has happened, I don’t even know where to begin! I’ll dish my shocking career developments another time, but today we’re going to talk about my love life… well, aspects of it, at least. So cozy up on the couch, grab some wine and popcorn (I’ve been watching too much Scandal) and listen to my story.

Remember NewBoy from last month? Well, we’ve continued to see each other and from now on he’s going to be known simply as “Guy.” Over the past few weeks, we’ve met for dinner, movies, plays, I went to his friend’s party and he went to my friend’s wedding, we’ve cuddled (among other things…maybe), and most important of all, we’ve talked and gotten to know each other. Last week, we had “the awk talk” – what are we, where do things stand, and where are things going from here? The answers might surprise you.

To sound like a broken record, I move too fast in relationships. It’s a bad habit and I’ve been working on it for literally years, as one does when a major part of their personal life is the subject of drama and intense feelings. So I resolved to move glacially slow with Guy, no matter how much I wanted to have him sweep me off my feet under the sunset. I was extremely nervous bringing him to my friend’s wedding, and even more nervous that he was coming over to my house beforehand – we hadn’t done more than kiss, and I had no idea what to expect. Suffice it to say, our alone-time together was a new experience for me, but it was one that proved to be really nice.

I’m not going to get into any details of my alone-time-life, but I started to understand something after I had time to reflect on things. A long time ago after a bad relationship ended, I had decided that if someone wasn’t extremely tender, gentle or 100% committed to someone while having alone-time, they must not be good people. After years of therapy and many awkward dates and alone time situations, I started to come to terms with the fact that, like most important personal things we deal with, alone-time is a very gray area. Getting back to my time with Guy, I was surprised that after some very intense alone-time, I felt really wonderful. We cuddled for a long while, and in his arms I felt that tender, gentle feeling that I always have issues with.

Anyhow, we freshened up, went to my friend’s wedding, slow-danced, had cake, and went home. In my car, we had the much-dreaded awk-talk. We agreed that continuing to take things slow was a good idea, and he said he wasn’t ready to be in a “relationship” – we only see each other once or twice a week and we both live at home, so it’s an impractical situation – but that he really liked where things were going and wanted to continue at the pace and comfort level we’d been developing. I agreed with him.

I was disappointed at first; it’s very tempting to jump into a relationship too quickly, but knowing that appears to be half the battle. Since the wedding, we’ve continued at a regular pace and I feel good about it. For the first time, I feel content to let things be. If I take one thing from my time with Guy, it’s that dating can be fun, romantic and lead to deep connections without the emotional meltdowns and panic attacks. And if I do start to feel the old habits seeping in, I’ve got this blog entry to remind myself. Have a happy Cinco de Mayo, everybody!

Looking At Life Through An Instagram Filter

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A picture filled with memories and stories!

The old family summer house

Isn’t it amazing how much can be said without uttering a single word? I learned something interesting about my father the other day, and it was all thanks to Instagram! I love my father very much, but I often wonder if he thinks about anything important, or if he just thinks about what’s right in front of him (like dinner or television). The other day, I went with my folks to dinner at a restaurant about 30 minutes from home. My sister was supposed to meet us, but naturally she was running late, so rather than take up table space and waste complementary bread we decided to go for a little drive while we waited. I’m not too familiar with the area we were in, but I did recognize it from my childhood; my dad’s family used to own a summer house there, and I got to go a few times before it was sold. “Let’s go by the summer house!” I exclaimed like a six-year-old. My dad sighed and nodded. We drove down an old path and into a small, private street that overlooked the water. We pulled up to the old summer house, which was not quite how I rememberd it, I snapped an Instagram photo, and we sat there for a few moments, just looking around, listening to the birds chirp and the water hit the rocks on the beach below. I looked over to my dad, and caught a rare moment; rather than his usual stoic facade, I saw my father deep in thought. Did coming here awaken something in him?

Well, not really. As much as I love him, I admit that the man rarely reflects on things and never expresses his feelings. So to see him so deep in thought really caught me by surprise. I guess I should have expected my dad to get somewhat emotional; years ago, my grandfather announced to the family that he was moving to Las Vegas with his new girlfriend, and that he had sold the summer house. You read that correctly – he announced not that he was intending to sell the house, but that he had already sold it. My father, a man of few words, has on occasion told me how upset he and his sister were, but acknowledged that nobody ever confronted my grandfather about it. Due to recent family incidents (which I won’t talk about here, they deserve to be in the next Great American Novel… or therapy session), bringing up any part of my father’s life has been touchy. I would often roll my eyes when my dad bluntly stated “let’s change the subject” upon mention of his emotionally distant father, late younger brother, selfish older sister, but looking at my dad at that moment made me realize that maybe he wasn’t overreacting. Maybe he really was profoundly changed by the various events in his family’s history. For the first time, I think I realized that my father wasn’t being dismissive or emotionally distant when shooting down talk of his family. He was protecting himself.

“Dad, look how cool this picture looks with the filter!” I exclaimed, showing him the snazzy new Instagram photo I had just taken.

“Cool,” he shrugged.

“Are you okay? You look a thousand miles away,” I pressed.

My father paused, took a deep breath and smiled. “I’m trying to decide whether I should do the lobster tail or the steak when we eat,” he responded. In the rear view mirror, my mother rolled her eyes. I understood. I’ll probably never know what my father was really thinking in those few minutes at his old summer house. But now I know that, at the very least, he does think.

“Go with the steak,” I told him, “seafood sucks.” And with that, we backed out of the one-way street and headed back to the restaurant.

I Got Lost In His Arms (But Look What I Found)

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This illustration actually fits really well, but I'm not telling why!

This illustration actually fits really well, but I’m not telling why!

Hello, dear readers! I know, it’s been a long time since my last update. But this one’s going to be good, I promise. I’ve been so busy with school! It’s been quite a learning curve. But I am enjoying it, aside from one painfully bad teacher. I’ll talk about her another time, though. Tonight we’re going to talk about romance. Hopeless romance. Nah – hopeful romance.

I’ve gone on several dates with NewBoy. I’m going to keep him as NewBoy for now, because I don’t want to develop a reputation for writing about all my conquests like Taylor Swift. I met NewBoy through Match.com; we hit it off, much to my surprise, over coffee at Starbucks. I was surprised we hit it off because these things always feel like a crapshoot. We have a ton in common, and he’s very sweet and fun to hang out with.

As you’ve read, I tend to get really intense in my romantic pursuits. It’s something I’m actively working on, and I’ve tried to use as much restraint as possible with NewBoy because I don’t want to scare him off or throw things off the rails. But last night something happened that took me by complete surprise. We went to see a show in the city, and decided that it would be easier to take a cab back to Penn Station than traverse the subways and miss our trains. We got into the cab and I looked over at him. I wanted to hold his hand, but I didn’t know if it was appropriate. We’d briefly held hands at the theater earlier that evening, but I didn’t know how he’d feel about semi-PDA with a cab driver a few feet away. He smiled at me, and I placed my hand on his. After a moment, he took my hand and pulled me over, putting his arm around me and running his hand through my hair. I instinctively rested my head on his shoulder. After a minute, he looked down at me and gave me the sweetest kiss I’ve felt in a very long time. I was lost in NewBoy’s arms. And it felt fantastic.

We got back to Penn Station and kissed each other before getting on our trains. I felt great. But I didn’t feel euphoric. And you know what? That’s a really good thing. Rather than scrutinize the beautiful moment in the cab and agonize over what it all meant, I was able to happily look back at a tender, sweet moment exchanged with a really great guy. Who knows where it’s going to go from here? We have plans to hang out this weekend, and I can’t wait, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself or expect a similarly electric exchange. Because last night, I was there. I was happy. And no matter what happens between us next – we’ll always have the cab.

Thanks, NewBoy. Can’t wait to see you this weekend.

Someday my prince will come… via Match.com?!

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Image

Happy belated birthday to me! That’s right — I’m the big 2-6, meaning I’m now paying unreasonable amounts of money for a basic insurance plan that doesn’t even cover my allergy pill prescription, but hey! I’m officially in my “Mid-Late 20s.” Why is this important, you ask? Because I can now designate that I am in my “Mid-Late 20s” on my shiny new dating profile!

Yes, I have crossed over to the dark side again and subscribed to Match.com in hopes of finding my Prince Charming. Of all the dating sites, I trust Match the most; because it’s a paid service, people are (mostly) looking for relationships and not hookups and quick flings. I was a little hesitant to join the site again, since in the past it’s given me nothing but stress and self-esteem issues, but so far I’m off to a good start.

The first time I signed up for a Match profile was about six months after my first relationship ended. I was so eager to jump back into a relationship and find that special someone who would make me and my world complete. I scrutinized over every single word I wrote, took every unanswered email as a crushing rejection, and decided that everyone I spoke to on the site would be the next great love of my life. If I knew then what I know now, I would petition for dating sites to be inaccessible to anyone under the age of 25. I wasn’t ready to join the world of “20-something year-old professional dating” because I wasn’t a 20-something year-old professional at the time. I’m still not a professional by employment standards!

But I have a different outlook this time. There are a ton of guys searching for their next boyfriend out there, and each of them probably has a similar experience to what I had when I was younger. Of the three people I’ve sent feelers to (emails, you perverts), one has replied and the conversation hasn’t progressed past our mutual love of Joss Whedon. And you know what? I’m cool with that.

So many people believe in “The One” – that one great love that will eclipse all others and bring you eternal bliss. Well, I’m going to say that everyone gets to have more than one “The One” in a lifetime. If we let ourselves think that the dude that dumped us after six months for some blonde bimbo from West Hollywood (I’m exaggerating, that never actually happened to me) was the great love of our lives, we’re going to have a pretty sad existence in the years to come. So I’m happy with trading Joss Whedon trivia with a nice guy for now. Will it turn into more? Does it really matter if it doesn’t?

I think I’m going to like being 26.

Back To School Again….

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Grease 2!

So sorry to keep you waiting, my beloved brunch buddies! I’ve been incredibly frazzled since January; my play opened to rave reviews (and I got reviewed!) and I started school. I graduated from college back in 2009 and decided not to pursue grad school because I had gone through two years of senioritis and I didn’t want to waste my time or money. But now I’m on the cusp of 26, unemployed and broke, so school seemed like the safest way to go. Rather than go to graduate school, I decided to enroll in my local community college’s paralegal studies certificate program. I didn’t know what to expect at first, but now I’ve got a lot to say. So sit back, enjoy the obscure Grease 2 reference found in the title of today’s blog entry, and listen to today’s brunch life lesson…

When I went to my first class, I was so nervous! I had no idea what Partnerships and Corporations entailed, but I enjoyed it. When I went to my next class, “Legal Writing,” I found most of the same students from earlier. Everyone already seemed to know each other and have some prior knowledge of the subject matter (all my prerequisites were waived), so I felt a bit intimidated and resolved to sit in the middle/back of the room, learn the material, and go home. I folded up the Legal Society flier that an overly enthusiastic girl had handed out that morning and placed it in my pocket.

The first few weeks of school followed this pattern. I’d go to class, learn, and leave (oddly, the overly enthusiastic girl continued to hand out fliers, and I’m still trying to figure out the difference between each successive flier). The turning point occurred about two weeks ago. I sat down in Partnerships and Corporations ready to doodle on my notebook until the professor arrived, but suddenly I heard my name.

“Lee, were you in Friday’s class?” a voice asked. I looked up. Was there another Lee in the class? I turned to the woman who had asked the question. I remembered her name, Voola, because it was unique. She was in all my classes.

“I’m actually not in the Friday class,” I responded. “Although it all gets confusing since we’re all in the same classes with each other!”

Voola laughed and we chatted briefly about all the classes feeling familiar. After class, Voola, with a group of other students, asked me if I was going to the Legal Society. I thought for a moment without letting anyone know my reticence, smiled, and went with my new schoolmate friend to the Legal Society. The overly enthusiastic girl with the flier fixation was the vice president and conducted a raffle. Imagine my surprise when I won a $10 gift card to Sonic!

So it may not be like Jeff Winger and his study group from Community, but I’m starting to feel connected at school. The moral of the story – much like Michelle Pfeifer and Maxwell Caulfield learned in the infamous box office bomb Grease 2 – that when you decide to have a little fun and let go, you make connections and start to fit in. And win a Sonic gift card. On that note, I am going to go and use my Sonic gift card for dinner. Until next time!

Of Webrings and Emoticons

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File this one under "The Tween Years."

File this one under “The Tween Years.”

Happy New Year, everybody! Hope you all had a fabulous first day of 2013. I’m feeling much better, so my appetite is slowly returning. So, I was chatting with a friend over brunch and we started talking about the how much the Internet’s changed over the years. “You know what, Laura?” I said, a lightbulb going off in my head. “You just gave me something to write about on the blog! The Internet’s changed, Laura, yes. But it’s changed us too!” Laura laughed and shook her head at my futile attempt at profundity and went back to her almond-crusted french toast, but after a moment she looked up, frowning. “You know what? You’re right. Who knows who we would’ve become if not for the Internet?” Rather than muse about the might-have-beens, I started thinking about the past, and how the Internet has played a part in shaping who I am. What better place to talk about the Internet than on a blog? The faux-profundity continues!

The World Wide Web sure has changed, hasn’t it? When I first gained access to the Internet as an awkward tween, the web felt like a new frontier, a new world to discover. I was a big video game nerd at the time (and still am, though I prefer the term “geek” now) and spent countless hours surfing for cheats and guides to my favorite games, becoming enamored with the amazing digital pixel art people used on their websites, chatting with friends – and strangers – on AOL Instant Messenger, long before it was referenced as “AIM.” I created a homepage using Homestead, tried unsuccessfully to be part of a Webring (anyone remember those?) which I think is now only used for businesses, and I became friends with a ton of people from all over the world who liked video games and anime and all that niche stuff.

I’d like to say that it was a simpler, more innocent time, but we all know that’s not true. I was reasonably smart and didn’t give out personal information like my address or school to people, but I was probably talking to some shady characters. The one that sticks out the most was MilleniumCutie99, who first told me her name was Michelle and then Shirley, making some elaborate excuse for the name change. We talked so much it was like she’d become one of my close friends, but there were so many sketchy details and questions that by the time I got to high school I all but assumed Shirley/Michelle was either a 50-year-old man or a tween girl with full-blown borderline personality disorder (and histrionic, and just plain crazy). On the flip side, I talked a lot with a girl from my middle school, Ashley, who had recently moved to Pennsylvania and felt like I’d made a real connection. I haven’t spoken to her in ten years.

Parents always try to preserve their kids’ innocence for as long as possible, and they should. But once we had modems (remember 56k?!) it became impossible for parents to shield their kids from the rest of the world. I first realized I was gay while I was surfing the web (and you can probably guess how I came to that realization). I also learned what clinical depression was, thanks to a girl I talked to from AOL Instant Messenger who was a big fan of Sailor Moon (hey, I’m gay, don’t judge). She told me that she was diagnosed with clinical depression and she was worried that it’d be too much for her to handle. We lost touch. I didn’t quite know what she meant until I became depressed myself years later.

Things are so different nowadays. Between Facebook, Twitter, and all the other social sites out there, everyone knows everything about everybody. Online dating’s the norm (although there’s nothing normal about most of those sites). I was definitely changed by the Internet, and as I’ve grown up it’s played different roles in my life. Its newest role is that of an outlet for me to get my thoughts out there and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

By the way, as a little post-script to munch on, here’s a link that I found too fascinating not to share.

My New Year’s Resolution

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Happy_New_Year_Charlie_Brown

I hope you don’t mind the lack of brunch today. I’ve had a terrible stomach flu the past few days and the thought of Eggs Benedict isn’t sitting well with me at the moment. Don’t worry, though – it won’t stop me from enjoying the last few moments of 2012! It’s been a trying year, both for me personally and for world, but I am always thankful at the end of every year to take stock of the good things in my life, like my family and friends. And I have a New Year’s resolution, but I’ll save it for the end of our chat. Right now, I’d like to be completely self-indulgent and write myself a “year in review.” Hope you enjoy this brief, editorialized recap of the past 12 months of my life!

2012 was, in many ways, a revelatory year for me. On the surface, it’s been quite a generic year: I turned 25, lost my job, fell in love, got my heart broken, and decided to go back to school. But as I look back, I realize that through all these moments, both good and bad, I have finally started to grow up. Yes, I know that at 25 I am technically considered a “grown-up,” but how many 25-year-olds do you know who have truly matured beyond that “post-collegiate limbo” phase? I’m not so sure I’ve completely passed that phase, since I’m still living with my family and am returning to college as a bit of a last resort.

I’ve suffered from depression for years, and in late 2007 I was hospitalized after a series of self-destructive and reckless decisions. I dropped out of a really amazing college theater program that I’d been dying to get into, I isolated myself from my friends and lashed out at the people trying to help me. As I slowly recovered, I regained some of what I felt I’d lost; I returned to college (a different school and degree), I made a few new friends and got involved with a theater company that is now like family to me. But for the last five years, I’ve considered myself permanently scarred and inhibited by my depression. That changed this year.

In May, I lost a job that I loved and excelled at, and haven’t been able to find a steady gig since. Constantly getting rejected due to a lack of experience (which is a load of hooey, by the way) was frustrating and discouraging, but instead of letting it weigh me down and giving up, I came up with a “Plan B” of sorts – returning to school and trying something different. I solved a problem not by hiding in my turtle shell, but by challenging myself to try something new and different.

I don’t need to tell you that falling in love is never easy. Hell, one of the reasons I was such a mess in 2007 was because of the unhealthy decisions made because falling in love turned into desperately clinging to something that lost its luster. So when I fell in love earlier this year I was petrified of what would happen if I lost it. But I lost it – and while I feel a little worse for wear due to the heartache I felt, I realized that despite the pain it caused, I never lost my footing. I saw my love lose its luster and rather than hold onto it while it continued to fade and rust, I let it go.

So, what is my New Year’s resolution? It’s simple. I want to do what I didn’t realize I already was doing all this year: live with grace. So goodbye, Mr. Renfield, goodbye dying magazine publication in NYC that fires people on a weekly basis, and hello to 2013 and a fresh start. So happy New Year, everyone, and we’ll brunch in 2013!