Morning.

My alarm clock blared a mixture of static and jazz music this morning as it announced the arrival of 6:00 am, but of course, I really don't remember any of this. Instead, I smacked my alarm clock, rolled over, and fell promptly back to sleep. Another five minutes ticked by without much consciousness or activity until a second alarm from my cell phone rang out. That one, I turned off completely without realizing it.

I rolled over, a while later, my room slightly glowing with the morning light and looked at the clock across from my bed. The clock's asymmetrical arms stretch out indicating it was 8:25 am, give or take a few minutes. Lacking the consciousness to do the full time conversion in my head, I pulled my cell phone to my face to observe the real time. 8:02. Shit. 8:02. My mind rolled around this figure several times; it tumbled to and fro before the full weight of it sunk into my budding consciousness. 8:02...class at 9:10...I could sleep for another 20 minutes I thought for a second. That's what I would have done in undergrad, I thought. In undergrad, I could sleep another 20 minutes, roll out of bed, thrown on whatever I had, shove my laptop into my bag and grab the right book before bounding off to class. Maybe I'd stop at the student lounge and grab a drink on the way, too. No, a voice in the back of my head yelled; This isn't undergrad. Stupid reality.

So, reluctantly I lifted myself from my pillowed paradise and proceeded with my new morning ritual. The typical things occurred; I decided my shower last night wouldn't need to be repeated, I turned on CNN, pulled my hair back, checked my email, facebook, my blog, the weather and my calendar of events for the day, I put on clothes, makeup, and reviewed the cases for my Torts class. Then I breakfasted; the standard bowl of cereal and caffeine injection. (If I could actually receive the caffeine intravenously, I would.) Then I packed for the day. No one told me before law school that case books were so cumbersome. I often carry a back pack and a laptop bag! Fun.

And by 8:55 am (at the latest), I'm out the door and off to Torts and then various other classes subsequently. And my mind dwells now on mornings past, where my lackadaisical ways were rewarded and I wish I had appreciated them more.

Ah, memories.

Umm...yeah

So, I'm terribly awful at tending to my blog, I know. I'm sorry. But, for the two people who may look at this who are not me, look, I'm updating! Yay!

Anyways, I have settled into Malibu, California and I must say that I do like it quite alot.
I've never lived in a place where I was truly happy to live because of the location, and I'm finally here. I'm content. I'm living in California, where the weather is mostly agreeable and the beach is literally in my view. My overwhelming feeling of satisfcation with my present location, however, stands in stark contrast to the lament in my heart. I have to say that I still miss all those people I love and care for in Houston. And as stupid and contrite as this sounds, I think my home is in Houston. I've never felt more connected to a city I generally dislike. And it's only because most of my best friends are there now. What I have realized in the past month and a half is that I think I might like Houston more than I ever thought. Actually, if the weather were like it is here in Malibu, I might be back in Houston right now.

Part of me thinks that is true, but another part of me disagrees. Over the past month, some people have kept in touch with me and I with them. But from others, I've received nothing. I wonder if they miss me at all. I miss them everyday, but I guess I should tell them more often. I use Facebook to try to talk to them, but they have lives too, I have to remember. And it generally sucks not being able to see them. (I do want to make it clear that I'm not angry or hurt at all...I just miss my old friends). I have to remember that they have our old friends, too. They have people to hang out with, to see movies with, to go to dinner with and people with whom it's okay to be completely comfortable. I'm not entirely sure what I'm trying to say anymore. I know I love it here, but I guess I would love it more if I could see my old friends more.

Okay...on to more pleasant business because I hate being a stick-in-the-mud! Law school--how is it going, you might ask. You didn't ask? Oh, well it's my blog, shut up. It's going alright, I think. I have a mid-term this week and then I leave for Washington D.C. for a few days! I'm so excited. I love Washington D.C. Eek!

And now I'm bored of writing this. I'll update more often from now on, hopefully.

Thoughts...

Okay, if you know me, you know I'm not the type who tends to freak out all the time. Nor am I the type to be afraid of much. But as the summer slowly creeps on, I have less and less to occupy my idle mind; therefore, I tend to over-think and over-analyze everything even more that I already do. This all leads to worrying and my worrying has spawned fear. And this evil spawn cuts away at my brain, and the wounds there fester and become the breeding grounds for another enemy--doubt. And this doubt consumes my consciousness and has seeped into my dreams as well, spreading like wildfire. I am really uncertain right now.

I wonder if I'm making the right decision. I wonder if going so far away from everything I know is the right thing. I wonder if I'll make friends that I like as much as my friends now. I worry that I will not make as good of friends but at the same time I worry that I will lose touch with the friends I have now, the best friends I have ever known. I think sometimes my friends know me better than myself--urging me to actually consider law school because they know I'll actually like it--telling me to have more faith in my abilities--and even just knowing what I'm going to say before I say it. I don't think that was completely coherent but the point is I'm afraid of losing the close friendships I have now. I am afraid of failing. I am afraid that I'm not going to like the path I have chosen. I am afraid of the unknown.


I'm just hoping everything turns out alright.

Life, beginning

No, my life is not just beginning. I am not one of those people who prescribes to the saying, "Today is the first day of the rest of your life". Don't misunderstand me--it's not that I don't understand the saying; I get it-- really, I do. But it's not helpful to me. To me, this American proverb in some way seems to wipe everyday before it. It tries to encourage one to begin anew, to forget the past. I reject that notion. Today is not the first day of the rest of my life. My life has been going on for quite a while--and I've been involved in it every step of the way. I am eight-thousand and fifty-eight days old, and while I don't remember all the days, I certainly feel responsible for my actions during them. Today is a day in (hopefully) an early stage of my life, but I cannot forget or disregard everything before now. If I do, then who am I?

Personally, I enjoy this Arabian proverb: "Everyday of your life is a page of your history."

Use the time wisely, and write an interesting book with you life.

So, this is my new blog. My way of writing down some of my history. So that I can see it and share it. I hope you like it.