DC is where my heart is.

I'm currently blogging as i fly back to Miami after spending the weekend in DC. After a day of networking with more attorneys Friday, I got to enjoy the rest of the weekend with some of my closest friends and some new friends.

All in all, the trip was, as usual, an absolute blast. And, as should come as no surprise, has me yearning to return to the city I decided i needed to leave three years ago.

In spite of this, I feel deep down that it's time to return.

Don't be confused. Moving to Miami is what I needed in 2007. Seemingly at a turning point in my life, I embraced Miami as a place that i would fond myself more. And indeed I did. Miami has been nothing but good for me, and law school undoubtedly helped with this endeavor. I'm a more confident, happier individual as a result of the past three years, and (as hard as it is to remember given my current situation in life) I know i am destine for good things.

But it seems to be the case that DC is where I need to be. Where I want to be.

Flying back to Miami is saddening this moment. As much as I enjoy the way my life has progressed in Miami in the months since I graduated, instilling in me a new found contentment with how I spend my time (when not bogged down in job hunting), I think my dad was correct when he once told me I was happier when I was in DC.

Where do we go from here, then? Well, considering we are entering the second weekend of November, it's safe to say that the coming of the holiday season will take its effect on the amount of potential attorney positions that open up, that effect being negative. Essentially I anticipate any hunt slowing down until 2011 graces itself with it's presence. In spite of this, I intend to keep my search alive, and think it may be tine to look into a recruiter/headhunter type to assist me in my search in DC. Add to this the fact that I can always swallow my pride and take a job as a contract attorney, reviewing documents but nevertheless working full-time, allowing me to support myself in DC.

This all involves a sit down with the parents. It's been three and a half months now of the same thing, day in and day out, with no positive results. And I'm constantly advised that I should mentally prepare myself for the harsh reality that this could be the state of my existence for at least another 8 months. Not exactly an idea one wants to prepare for, nor am I sure there's an actual way to truly prepare oneself for that.

But it's time to make things happen, to make my own luck. And let's hope the days ahead allow for this.

As for the District, to you I thank you for a time out from reality; for a chance for me to make some sense of the emotions that never cease their bombardment upon me. You shall see me again, come New Years, if not earlier.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

When you think of the lawyer type, I bet you don't picture me.

You see some big wig looking all put together in an expensive suit, donning some sharp looking briefcase, right? Looking incredibly smooth and ready for anything, and likely to piss someone off.

I'm 5'3. I have curly hair I work too hard to keep looking straight so I can look my age (a month shy of 26) and appear more professional and put together. And most days my attire is casual, because I spend most of my days at a desk, amidst red wells, manila folders, and piles of papers.

Bet you'd never think I fit the type-a personality. The "cruise director" in college, I traded it all for casebooks, westlaw, pleadings, and crafting legal arguments. I keep two calendars, and, despite owning an iPhone, iPad and MacBook (which are all obviously linked), I still take comfort in writing it all in a desktop Filofax. I have multiple "To Do" lists and they are constantly tweaked and updated.

I was made for this. You wouldn't think it to look at me, but I am. I'm an attorney. "Esquire" follows my name. I carry a card that says my Florida Bar Number. Hell, I even signed up for the US District for the Southern District of Florida Bar examination, which I'll sit for December 16th.

On the other hand, at a month shy of my 26th birthday, Bandit, my 1-year old miniature Schnauzer and I have moved back in with my parents. I'm still undecided on what to do with the loans that kick in in 12 days. Some days I have to borrow money from my parents.

Every day, I think I am one day closer to landing the dream job in a firm. In the meantime, I scrape by mooching work off a solo practitioner as I reach to bring in my own clients. Of course, it started with one, and now I'm at four.

It's a long, lonely road. Everyone seems too wrapped up in their own lives lately to care for the others. At least, those in the world of the law are that way.

Is that how it is? We're all just going to forget any friendships we ever had? Is that what our type essentially is?

Can I be both? I love my new-found friends who are not related to the legal field whatsoever. They are refreshing and truly good people. Anyone who takes the time to get me to go out, that's big time.

I want to be both. But I'm beginning to think I can't have my cake and eat it too...

There's no way anyone ever plans life like this. "Hey, I want to go to law school, pass the Florida Bar on the first try (because hey, it's one of the country's hardest bars and I like showing people how smart I am all the time), and then move back in with my parents a couple of months shy of my 26th birthday because I can't afford rent!"

At least, I hope no one plans it like that. I didn't. I worked entirely too hard to end up where I am. And yet, I am here anyway.

Life has plans for us all. So I find it's better not to plan. And I have to do my best today. That's all I can do.

I forget that, though. Maybe it's because lately, it's a constant string of little things that add up to add to that frustration I live with everyday -- you know, the one where I don't have a job, and can't seem to find one besides my "outstanding qualifications" (which I think was a lie. I think, shockingly, a lawyer lied to me (I am allowed to talk bad about my own kind)).

There seems to be a general theme of negativity, and for this I apologize. Things aren't all bad, I promise.

Halloween weekend turned out to be awesome. I have to say, I love Miami now that I'm not in law school. I've pushed myself outside my comfort zones.

On a whim I attended a halloween party Saturday night. Since my closest friends moved away (funny, since I'm the transplant, not them), I've been hanging with the people I met through them, and was invited out, so I figured, meh, why not? Donning a "Risky Business" costume (read: button down white polo, boy shorts, socks, and nothing else) I headed out to see where the night would take me. It was a blast, and I have to remind myself in the future to just get out.

I leave for DC on Thursday night. I'll follow up soon.

Quote-Worthy

A wonderful friend and hip lady, who resides in the District and lives entirely too far from me (or, as I am consistently reminded, I am the one who lives entirely too far) is quote-worty this beautiful Monday morning:

"omg, please for the sake of all women everywhere, tap that"

For any reader(s) that I might have, I'll let your imagination dwell on that one.

But think Landon Donovan.

Back to Citizens United v. Federal Election Commission...

Time flies when you're not blogging.

I am officially an attorney licensed to practice law in the State of Florida. That's right - I passed the Florida bar examination, and was sworn in a couple of weeks ago.

I was asked, jokingly, if upon being sworn in I was just handed $100,000.00 to begin my new life as an attorney. I answered with a laugh, a smile, and a "I wish."

I guess I just thought life would have played out differently than it has. That I would graduate from law school with a great position at a firm waiting for me to just pass the bar, and then I would pass the bar and triumphantly transition into an associate attorney position, able to pay off my school loans and other debt and begin my career as a successful attorney.

And by that, it turned out to be me moving into a house with my parents in a (very nice) area of Miami, spending a couple hours a day researching associate positions, tweaking cover letters and resumes, trying to network, and wondering if I will get enough hours from my boss/attorney to pay my bills for another month.

And of course, the icing on top of the cake, requesting deferrals from the three different lenders because I have NO money.

What it boils down to, then, is feelings of inadequacy and being lost and not really knowing what I should do with my life at this point. Which, I'm told, at the tender age of 25, are thoughts that shouldn't scare me but that I should embrace to "find my destiny," but remaining in a positive state of mind is ultimately mind-numbing and rather tiring.

I don't mean to be depressing or negative, and I know I am very fortunate to have my parents to support me, but, man, it gets frustrating.

Tomorrow is Monday. I'll continue to fight the good fight. And hopefully throw some funny stories in here soon.

Gainesville bound!

I am currently on my way to gainesville via a very nice coach bus. Stopped to refuel, I thought I might explain my love of the Gators...

It started 1L year at FIU. Not having an impressive football team, and surrounded by classmates who attended the University of Florida, Florida State University, or University of Miami, I decided it was time to become s college football fan.

So I did what anyone does- ask their friends to watch a game and explain the grandeur of their team to me.

Who obliged? Three good friends of mine who attended the University of Florida. One a gracious host, and the three together my tutors, I fell in love with the blue and orange, the Gators, and the greats- Tebow, Harvin, Pouncey.

So I am hooked. And I've been adopted by the Gator Nation. And they're very happy to have me.

This is my first trip up, and my first game, so as you can imagine I'm incredibly excited! Tomorrow my friend will take me around campus and into the stadium itself, and the game is Saturday. Pictures will obviously be posted, and a full report to follow on Sunday.

Don't worry, any AU alums out there, once an Eagle, always an Eagle. But the Gator Nation is too much fun to pass up....


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Spinning

About a year and a half ago, I decided to get back into the gym. I was feeling gross and law school and general laziness had taken its toll on me, and I was nostalgic for my tennis player days, so I joined a gym, and was talked into my first spinning class. Since then, I've been hooked. I try to go to as many as I can in a week, and generally feel better about life afterwards. But let me tell you, it is quite the soap opera, or "novela" as the Cubans say...

To actually get into the class, you have to sign up a half hour early. Which, really, can be a hassle. Since I work til 6:30 everyday, I can never make it in time to sign up for the 8 o'clock class, which means 9 pm spinning class. Late, yes, but worth it.

So I drag myself to the gym around 8:15 just to ensure I can actually get a bike, then have a half hour to kill before class. Sometimes I'm too tired so I power nap against a wall (I bet I like super cool napping in a gym but they don't pay my dues so only God can judge me) or work on some machines.

But these gyms, they're a hang out. I'm not really quite sure how many people (read: women) go there with the actual intention to "pump iron" or break a sweat or really to perform any of the normal rituals one would while in a gym. I usually end up frustrated because I can't find a mat to stretch (or sleep) or work abs.

Another thing I should mention: I'm 99% sure I'm the only white person in there. In a city known as "north Cuba" or "north Latin America," I walk into the gym and it's like, "hey! who let the white girl in?" Needless to say, I get a lot of stares. Cuban women are built completely opposite to white women: no chest, huuuuuge bottoms. So in walks the 5'3 with no apple-bottom and heads turn. Which makes me laugh, considering I'm the most clothed woman in the gym anyway, in a hat, t-shirt and workout pants.

So, once I've battled my way on to the bike list, and past all the turning heads, it's usually time for spin class. Take the bikes out, set them up (there's a lot that goes into this: handlebars at the right height, seat at the right height, correct resistance, put my shoes on, clip into the bike, generally look hot while seated on bike...), and wait for class to begin.

Women apparently need to size each other up in spin class. Which is really dumb, but then again, so are most of the paranoias women hold about each other. I could give a hoot less about any of the women in the room, and I'm usually joined by a friend in spin class, so normally we're chatting it up.

Which really brings my story to somewhat of a point. Last night there were multiple women who just could not give me the stink eye enough. I mean to the extent that I was getting upset by it- and it takes a lot to get me upset! I focused on my breathing and spinning, but I was not a happy camper. Throw in the fact that I've become friendly with the spin instructor and I was just on their shit list.

Look, you can be the best person at spinning in the universe. I don't care. It's my hour to work out and swear and forget the day and focus on pretending I can be in the tennis player shape I once was in. Just don't give me stank eye.

I think this post went nowhere. I had a point when I started.

I wonder who will be at spinning tonight...