Monday. 10.18.10 10:02 pm
law school is very time consuming.
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Thursday. 9.23.10 8:30 pm
"As to the crossroads aspect you wrote about, I smell what you're stepping in. You know that scene in the movies where the protagonist looks around to make sure they have all of their gear before they embark on their journey? They grab their backpack, the flask from the counter, the sentimental item of choice off the dresser and finally the map from the wall with the big X to mark the spot. It feels like these past few years, ever since I made up in my mind that I'd make it into a top 20 law school, I've taken steps to gather all the materials I'll need for the journey. Got the grades in undergrad, did the fellowship in D.C., built up my resume, then took the big test and figured the end of the journey was in sight and all it took was getting that acceptance letter to reach the X. Turns out what I thought to be the finish line all this time was merely the starting line. "
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Wednesday. 9.22.10 7:04 pm
"Who's this?" Sonya's roommate asks as she eyes me up and down. It's a late August Friday night and I've spent most of it with Sonya, one of two people I knew before moving to Massachusetts. After three hours of conversation over Thai food, she insited I check out her new home on the otherside of Boston.
"A BTR boy?" Her roommate, whose name escapes me but the freakum dress she wore out that night surely doesn't,
continues on with her inspection of me. ( BTR = the teaching program they're involved in. )With one hand stuffed in my pantspocket and the other nervously scratching the back of my neck, I glance to Sonya and wait for her response.
"No... he's a Harvard Law School boy."
With that, freakumdress girl nods her head, smiles, and introduces herself to me. "Sorry," she says, "I just figure everyone who comes 'round here is a teacher. I mean, ....." I nod, feign a smile, and turn my attention away from her and toward my thoughts.
Is that who I am now?
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Sunday. 9.5.10 11:53 am
“I see myself as a History professor eventually... it was my undergraduate major afterall. That, and Political Science. What about you? What’s your plan?”
Manny, my roommate, turns his head away from me and toward the Korean food being brought to our table. “It would probably be to kill this,” I say to him while nodding toward the chicken and vegetable concoction being set at my table. It’s my first night in Cambridge, a few hours after Sonya and I parted ways.
He’s a nice enough fellow thus far. He’s way more into philosophy and politricks than I would ever care to be. Honestly, that isn’t much of an accomplishment. The works of Trotsky, Nietzche and Hitler (!) span his bookshelf; Chekhov, Achibe, Sedaris and Kincaid decorate mine. Our first few conversations revolved around history and politics and mostly consisted of passionate discourse broken up by my "Yeah.. uh-huh.. mhm's."
Another distinction between the two of us? He’s completely embraced identity of a Harvard Law Student.
The following day we’re on a bus when the girl in front of us turns around and asks for directions. “Well, where are you headed? All you have to do is…” he continues on, pretending that he knows the city like he knows his hometown of Miami. The girl, who he was no doubt trying to impress, thanks him and asks where he’s going.
Manny sits back in his chair and clears his throat a little. “We’re both going to Hahvahd Law School,” he proclaims with a faint smile. I glance up in time to see her raise a brow. “No…, I mean, where are you guys headed right now?” Clearing his throat once more, Manny sinks a little lower in his seat and mumbles “Target.”
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Sunday. 8.29.10 3:48 pm
“My goals? I think a big one for me is…” While her voice continued, my attention to her words did not. Instead, I found myself transfixed by the loops and whirls her hands made while she explained her rationale.
“Do you always do that with your hands when you’re talking to someone?” I ask bluntly, interrupting Sonya in mid sentence. She furrows her brow in response, glances outside of the teashop and toward the Cambridge street corner across from us. “Yes. It’s just something I do… anyway, what are your thoughts on Cambridge and Boston so far, hon? I see you’re dressed for the part…” she says with a smirk and a nod toward my clothing. A shirt, adorned with a large replica of the human heart on the front, I found maybe five years ago among my father’s belongings and a blue Dallas Cowboys hoody that displays a big star on the front when zipped up. According to Sonya, this was hardly Harvard dress material.
“… It’s aiight. I mean… I’m not really looking forward to taking classes again. This was the best summer in a long, long time… I got to spend time with my kid sister mostly and that was the best part.” Honestly, that really was the best part… I showed her how to cook, fight, and play first person shooters. She showed me what it meant to be home again. I miss that. “That, and my mom, too.. I’ll miss my whole family. I’ll miss the whole state, I suppose…” and with that, Sonya sighs. A Texan by birth herself, she has since enthusiastically relocated to Boston to don the mantle of “Educator.” She’s now a High School English Teacher. Her love for our home state is minimal. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.. I get it, you love Texas. Get over it, love, ‘cause you’re very far from home now… so what do you hope to accomplish when this whole thing is over and done with, Mr. Harvard Law School?”
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Always gone but never hard to find -- and since you can't escape me do I ever cross your mind?
Tuesday. 6.1.10 12:16 am