The TL;DR of the last several days:
- Wednesday, Supreme Court decision day. Proposition 8 is dead. I don't like the legal reasoning used to kill it, but it's dead, and I'm amazed at how happy I am about it.
- Thursday, urgent work crisis day. A work crisis so bad I got email from the director of engineering at 9am asking me if i'd had a chance to look into a problem which had come in at 11.45 the night before and which was discussed entirely on an email trail I wasn't on.
- Thursday night, practicing law for the first time.
- Late Thursday night, great fun hanging out with one of my closest friends in the city.
- Friday, official approval, the project I've been working on since late fall of 2010 has been accepted by our customer. Ding-dong, the witch is dead.
- Friday night, dinner with a friend to celebrate his birthday; Jared was out of town for the birthday party and wanted a raincheck.
- Friday night, word comes that the 9th circuit has vacated the stay of the court order enjoining enforcement of Proposition 8, and marriages can begin immediately
- Friday night, hangout in a bar to celebrate two friends getting new jobs. This turns into an awesome karaoke party which runs until 3am. Jared stayed out for the whole thing.
I have some ... complaints.
[I'm not posting this to everyone so as to preserve my ability to rant in person at my local friends].
Going to Coachella from NYC seems to take more time than it did from SF; it used to be that I could leave Weds after work and that I could do something - usually go to class - on Monday night, and neither are true anymore. Plus, I was sick before Coachella, which meant that I relapsed after Coachella; all in all a recipe for exhaustion.
Yesterday, we decided if he would be staying in graduate school - and, by extension, if we'd be staying in NYC.
The last four or five weeks have been more stressful than I could possibly have imagined.
It feels different this time.
Some of it's the formality; formality makes everything different. Some of it is that it's the last one for the forseeable future. Some of it is that it matters in a way the other two didn't - ok, sure, being sworn in in California presented a nice sense of closure, but it's not like I'm going to practice there any time soon. And while being sworn in in NJ was correctly part of the plan, the odds are really low that i'll take a job that requires me to commute to NJ every day. (And besides, both were in front of notaries, and how real does that feel?).
This time, though: this is for the state I live in, the state that is currently home. (Home, a subject for another night). It means that it's time to get moving on finding a new job; it means that it's time to get moving on finding volunteer pro bono work that I can fit into my schedule. It means that the fallow season, the pause and the rest of the last eighteen months, is over.
And as such, it's running headlong into a question that has been plaguing me intermittently over the last several months: what does it mean, to be an adult?
WARNING: this is somewhat rambly and circular. I don't know if it has a point or if it's going anywhere. But in that it's sort of like life, and somewhat like any experience that's worth a damn - it doesn't matter where it's going, it just matters where it is.
So, in ana's last diary, ana proposed - cause we'd sorta talked about this before - Presidents' Day Weekend.
Some Phillyians can make it, some can't.
Or should we reschedule yet again?
And if so, for WHEN?
Between the crosses row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below
We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.
It's 6pm on a Friday and i'm still working. Jared is in class, I have things to do. I took a break mid-day to go to get something notarized, and go to the post office, and fail to go to the gym; and then i watched Bloomberg's pointless press conference.
We don't know enough to know anything yet about the hurricane. Well, duh.
Although I loved it when, after being asked if anyone had a prediction about the storm's track, he said, yeah, there are 20 of them, and each of them thinks they're right. and you could average them, but he doesn't see how averaging them would get you any useful data at this stage in the game.
I can see why NYers reelected him.
I've been feeling restless lately. A lot of long days with too much work, not enough exercise, not enough freedom to play. It's that time of the year in my project cycle, and I know it, and I'm used to it, and however much I hate it, i'm willing to pay the price for the good things my job brings me. But ... i get restless, and when I get restless, I get crazy.
So I started out for a walk, at 10.30 am on Saturday. It was going to be a nice little walk. A walk to the beach. The beach is a great place to be on a weekend day when it's in the upper 90s, right? And a walk is a fun way to get exercise and let a slightly stir-crazy programmer blow off his stir craziness and exhaust himself, right?
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