Before law school, in my capacity as an administrative muckety-muck at a stodgy private university on the South Side of Chicago, I used to have to email Professor Khalidi to schedule quarterly meetings for a committee my boss ran. Much as I hate his name being dragged through the mud, I find this connection incredibly amusing.
On my very first visit to the Gothic campus, a matter of blocks from where I lived, I was in my City Year uniform and had to demonstrate what they called "PT" by doing jiggly jumping jacks in front of wildly overprivileged undergrads.
Sometime after I had been hired, at a breakfast for University employees in student services, I was seated at Mrs. Obama's table and actually spoke with her. I said I had met her husband when he spoke to us at City Year. Since she ran community service programs, I asked if the school had an alternative break program, because that was something I had helped run at my much less tony undergrad school.
In the sad in-between period, after I had quit City Year but before I had found anything else to do, I called the Obama campaign office, looking for work. This was back when he was running for the Illinois Senate against former Black Panther Bobby Rush. In interviews, he describes the outcome as "getting spanked." The guy I spoke with asked me, logically enough, to tell him about myself. Somehow I got to the co-op house I lived in, and he asked me to explain that. All I needed to do was say that instead of paying rent to a traditional landlord, the residents effectively "owned" a share of the house.
That was pretty much what I did. Only instead of saying "a traditional landlord," I said "The Man."
I could easily have volunteered for the campaign, but I was so terribly embarrassed, I never called to follow up.
I have spent a lot of this campaign season kicking myself for not following up, for losing touch with my lawyer relative who was part of the Daley machine, and for ever having moved away from the place I loved so much, especially for something like law school.
Just before Election Day, on Halloween Friday, bar results were posted and I learned I had passed. I had spent the weeks beforehand trying to assure myself that I would be okay no matter what the outcome was, and occasionally taking the risk of imagining what it would be like to call people and give them good news.
Friday afternoon I left my poll-watching post at 3:15 and got home at 3:40. I started the computer, checked the mail, and wheeled the trash cart around to the back of our townhouse. A dear friend, my partner in Bar Exam Purgatory, was waiting on her State A results, which I knew would be up early. At 3:55 p.m., I learned she had passed. I took this as a good omen.
State B's results went up at precisely 4 p.m. but I had to wait until about 4:06, because I'd promised I'd wait until my husband got home. I clicked the link as soon as the door opened. When he came into the room, I clicked on my letter. And there I was. And it took me a long time to believe it. And to a certain extent, I still don't.
I got to make my happy phone calls, and it was better than I could have ever imagined. Then we went out to dinner.
Saturday I went a little insane. I had plans with my mom and grandmother and my husband wasn't coming. I got extremely upset, not about that particular evening being ruined, but more about the larger patterns. It was fairly miraculous that Spouse thought to come home early Friday, and knew to take me out that night; I should have focused on that instead. There are certain things that I have to let go of worrying about because I cannot change other people's behavior. I can only change my response to said behavior. I hadn't yet come to that conclusion, so Saturday and a lot of Sunday sucked.
And now? You'd think I'd be in some kind of wonderful happy haze but I'm not. I'm freaking out about finding work because lawyer jobs aren't advertised here. Isn't that great? It's hard enough submitting resumes and getting through interviews, but imagine trying to find work when you literally can't find the work. Seriously. The answer, of course, is NETWORKING! Wahhh.
Yesterday was my birth-control shot. My blood pressure is always taken beforehand, and I was expecting it to be lower after my good news, and it wasn't. That sucked.
Tomorrow is therapy and I know exactly what it's going to be about--my need to be willing to get my shit done even when I don't feel like it. That and what to do about meds, because Vyvanse Sucks Ass. Focalin gave me a tad too much energy but I feel completely sapped on Vyvanse, and it hasn't helped with the Evening Grumpies anyway.
What the fuck is my problem? Seriously! My guy actually won, and I passed the freaking bar exam! These are great, wonderful, amazing, life-changing things. What am I so afraid of? I'm supposed to be feeling invincible right now!
I have to remember that I have nothing to lose by calling people and asking for help, or by sending out resumes, or by looking all over the place for jobs, or by calling the few attorneys I have tenuous connections to and asking them where the hell the work is. I have nothing to lose but this lazy life I hate but have gotten comfortable in.
Now I am going to go call the clerk of court and arrange to get sworn in next week. And then I am going to call and make haircut appointments.