I don’t know if it was my lunatic one-day train trip to Boston (leave at 3 a.m., return at 7 p.m., do a staggering amount of walking in the meantime), or if it’s my upcoming trip to Santa Clara (fly to San Jose on Thursday night, return on the red-eye on Tuesday morning, do a staggering amount of walking in the meantime), but I have been absolutely, positively, embarrassingly exhausted for the past nine days. I still go to bed and wake up at my normal hours, but whereas I’m usually out of the house within half an hour of having my breakfast and a shower, I am now...sitting. I’m not just staring into space, of course; I read, I write, I knit, I write some more, but I do it all from the comfort of my own living room, which makes me feel lazy and sheepish. I do still go to the pool, but I suspect I’m not working hard enough to do my energy levels any good. If I added some weightlifting and another form of cardio, that might help, but the thought of doing that is even more tiring (which is not to say that I won’t do it). Eventually I do leave my house, camera and notebook in hand. If I’m lucky, I get a few decent shots, but I’m still nagged by the sense that this might be the last free time I ever have in my life, and I am not putting it to good use.
Lloyd has suggested that all of this sleepy bad attitude is a natural result of pondering the uncertain future. He has also suggested that feeling lazy and sheepish is not doing me any favors. When I told him “I have no idea what I’m going to do with my week,” he answered simply, “why not just live peacefully for a few days?” He did not drive a fork into my head, baked-potato-like, the way I richly deserved. He really is a keeper.
That said, even though I am currently as chatty, thoughtful and interesting as an aspidistra these days, I realize that it’s bad form to have news to share and not actually share it. In other words, yes, dear friends, the school saga continues. In addition to Santa Clara (a/k/a Bay Area) and Northeastern (a/k/a Beantown), I have also been accepted to Pitt Law, adding Pittsburgh to the geographic smackdown. New York City is in there, too, because Cardozo (the law school of Yeshiva University) has waitlisted me, and will keep me on the waitlist until August 25 or until I tell them to take me off of it. I have not yet heard from Brooklyn Law, but I knew from the beginning that it would be a long shot. Colorado said no.
Holy moly, now I’m really tired. But hell, there are worse things in life than being tired. I may be worn out and overwhelmed, but I’m definitely not bored or depressed or feeling assaulted by a terrible job situation. I’m headed to the land of sun-kissed, thirsty lotus-eaters. I’ll be staying with Grace—woohoooooo! I’m staying with Grace! I’ll have at least a day, maybe two, in San Francisco. I have a day of meeting more Future Lawyers of America, and, if all goes well there, I might just have a job interview, too. I’m on the verge of a Grand Weekend Out, and until then, I still have my share of neat stuff to appreciate at home, like, say, this little piece of public art, which Bunni and I found while walking down York Avenue on a particularly horrid, sleety, freezing February day. I went back yesterday, wondering if it would still be there, and odds my bodkins, it was. It’s a mock cemetery made from tongue depressors, located on the corner of York Avenue and 67th Street, in the heart of the neighborhood where you can find Rockefeller University, Weill Cornell Medical College and Memorial Sloan-Kettering Hospital. It’s good to see that the Future Doctors of America have maintained their sense of mordant dark humor—and have managed to keep up with current events on top of it. Hmmmm. Maybe what I need is to feel more exhausted, not less.