Iamamiwhoami - Hunting for Pearls

No darlings, I have not been listening to new music lately. I have instead been watching and doing deep analysis on The Real Housewives of New York City and eating a doughnut every day like I'm getting paid to do so. This is something I could have predicted. If anything, it was my expectation for the summer.

While we are on this important topic, I have to report I am team Bethenny nearly 100% of the time. I also have greatly enjoyed watching Ramona check her behavior in light of the fact that she no longer has Mario to protect her from her dreadful faux pas. Most importantly, for the first time in many seasons, I like all of these women. I will be sad when this season is over.

Moving on, what I did not expect from this summer is that I would learn the joys of eBay online shopping or finally, finally get my feet and tail up in crow pose. I have also had opportunity to get to know the characters of Palms a bit more acutely.

There is a man who every day wanders during daylight hours attempting to strike up conversations with every neighbor around Palms. My first encounter with him was charming. I was testing out my new camera near a co-op and he invited me to go see a hummingbird nest. I said no, because my spider senses told me not to go get murdered. But I thought, that's nice. This is a neighborhood.

I don't feel that way about him anymore. The man is there every time I leave the apartment to go to yoga, or get coffee, or take out the trash, but his exact location is indeterminable. He will be near the dumpster or at the actual yoga place or on the sidewalk, and he greets me, "Off to yoga again!" No, I don't like this man anymore.

But it doesn't matter. The bar will be here soon, and in the meantime I am embracing the habit I've had since college in delving deep deep deep into dark disco. Yeah, why not. Whatever gets you through.

Last year I thought anyone complaining about studying for the bar was probably whining unnecessarily. Well, I was wrong. The reason studying for the bar sucks is that you are a horse with buckling knees who has carried a great amount of weight for too damn long of a time and you don't remember quite where you are going. Some people respond with stress, while some with anger. I understand both and feel an overwhelming amount of nothingness. I'm tired of this too, but I'm not tired of complaining. I cannot complain enough. I would fill buckets with my words, none of which hold value or serve purpose. Like those dreams where you are pulling a never-ending spaghetti string from your throat, you're terrified and repulsed and confused by the task at hand. And I am sorry for that visual. I really am.

I am also exhausted of the burden I put on others around me.  The boringness I sweat and breathe out is suffocating. Yet I'm offering too many "I" statements and frankly it's time for me to move on from here.

Will I look back on this and laugh?