I am something of a night owl. Given a choice, I want a 26 hour day. If I get my perfect amount of sleep (ten hours), I will go to bed two hours later every night. Unfortunately, the world does not conform itself to my ideal. Silly world. The result is that, at night, energized by having run around and around in circles of this neighborhood, dodging sprinklers and hoping that no one notices that I'm running on their lawns because the pavement is starting to hurt my knees, I prowl around online, talking to the only people I know who are either not taking the bar exam or not studying as they ought to be. I get my best job-applying done at these hours. I read the cover letters one more time and then can't care anymore and send them so I can go to bed.
I know that I'm delusional, but I expected to be heading out to a job right about now, despite not having applied as diligently as I ought to have. Today I faced the possibility that both of my backup options might fall through. It's a scary place to be. Working at a coffee shop is not going to pay off the law school loans, oh no. I worried for a while, and then I went back to the skirt that my mom and I are making (modeled on this reversible amazing wrap skirt I bought online, but this one is made of fabric I bought in Rwanda, which is even amazing-er), and kept working on it. And I moved some stones around in the front yard, because my mom is re-doing the flower beds. And I ran until I was exhausted.
I may not have a job, but I feel better, somehow, when I get something tangible done in addition to worrying and applying. I have a skirt. I have a flowerbed. I have tired legs. I can sleep, strangely okay with it all. I should be very, very afraid, but I'm only a little afraid. I feel... okay.
Given everything, that's enough.
I know that I'm delusional, but I expected to be heading out to a job right about now, despite not having applied as diligently as I ought to have. Today I faced the possibility that both of my backup options might fall through. It's a scary place to be. Working at a coffee shop is not going to pay off the law school loans, oh no. I worried for a while, and then I went back to the skirt that my mom and I are making (modeled on this reversible amazing wrap skirt I bought online, but this one is made of fabric I bought in Rwanda, which is even amazing-er), and kept working on it. And I moved some stones around in the front yard, because my mom is re-doing the flower beds. And I ran until I was exhausted.
I may not have a job, but I feel better, somehow, when I get something tangible done in addition to worrying and applying. I have a skirt. I have a flowerbed. I have tired legs. I can sleep, strangely okay with it all. I should be very, very afraid, but I'm only a little afraid. I feel... okay.
Given everything, that's enough.
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