Measuring Autumns

I measure my life in autumns. There's something about the first crisp breeze that brings nostalgia with it, pulling out the memories from the year before and dusting them off. Maybe it's because fall is reliably the same every year. It knocks down the leaves. It signals the start of football, of cooler days, and of sweeter drinks. It's the sameness of the season that allows me to measure the differences in everything else.

It was my senior year of high school when I realized that the first hint of autumn reminded me of something, or more specifically, of all of the autumns before it. Day by day, changes are hard to notice, but autumn by autumn, they become more clear. I could remember the person I was four seasons ago, and I knew that, one year from that moment, I would remember the person I was then. So I memorized the moment and it has stayed with me.

The cool air. Just the tiniest oasis in thick, muggy air. The promise of a new school year and all the adventures it could bring paired with an acute feeling of loss for the year that had passed. I was standing in a parking lot lit by stadium lights. I was gross. Sweaty. Holding a flute and a water jug and realizing that I could not picture my life 365 days from that moment. Day by day, I knew what my future held but viewed in giant leaps, my lack of permanency because acutely noticeable.

365 days from that moment, I would be at some unknown college with unknown friends. I would be taking unknown classes, filling my time with unknown hobbies. The only thing that was certain was that I wouldn't be there. I would never be there again.

That was the first autumn I measured.

Each autumn since has been the same crossroads of what's past and what's to come. Each fall is bittersweet and promising and comfortingly, the same. Now, like back then, I cannot imagine what my life will be like 365 days from this moment. I will be working some unknown job. I will have unknown friends. I will be helping unknown clients, living in an unknown place. The only thing that is certain is that I won't be here. I will never be here again.

Maybe that (along with a healthy dose of pumpkin spice) is what makes the moment so sweet.

Not a Student, Not Yet a Lawyer

Basically, in this weird in-between, I'm a law clerk. But like an advanced law clerk that is expected to produce solid work because I have a law degree. Mostly, I research. Then I write about what I've researched. I also review documents. Thousands and thousands of pages of documents.

So you want to be a lawyer? Say hello to Doc Review.

They always joke when you're in law school, that the first year of your associate life will be spent in a windowless room reviewing documents. I now understand it's funny because it's partially true. When you submit a request for production to the other side, who ostensibly does not want to give you helpful information, they inundate you with documents. I think someone once told me this is technically illegal, but it's all 'done in good faith.' (You can almost hear the pitiful, "I didn't know what you'd find helpful" traveling across the expanse to your ears).

This week was sort of a crash course in doc review for me. I had the task of reviewing 3000 pages to redact any confidential information. It wasn't too bad since I was the second person to go through these stacks. On Monday though, we're expected to get over a hundred thousand pages and that's when the real fun begins. I think if you amassed all of the documents I've produced in my lifetime, it would still not total a hundred thousand pages so I have no ideas what those homies have been doing the past few years.

REGARDLESS, this is the kind of work you can look forward to doing your first few months out and I repeat, it's not that bad. If you're nosy, like me, it's kind of interesting. You can get lost in the stories the pages tell and law suits always involve super scandalous things (though law school may have warped my definition of 'scandalous').

So yes, I will read every email Homie A has sent the past two years and I will wonder how his curtain buying excursion with his wife panned out. I hope you've lead an interesting few years, Homie A or it's going to be a very long week for me.

The Weekly Happy Hour: Contigo

I've been lucky enough that 4 out of my 5 good friends have stayed in the same city as me after graduation. I've been even luckier to have made some new friends since. But perhaps the best luck of all comes in this tradition we've adopted: the weekly happy hour. I know we're far from the only people to do this, but my goodness, am I glad we do.

Typically, it's on Wednesday which is the perfect day in my opinion. The novelty of the week has worn off and you've probably already spent all day thinking it was Thursday, only to be disappointed each and every time you're reminded it's Wednesday. No matter how much you love your job (and I do, so I can say this with certainty), Wednesdays are the worst. See also NeverShoutNever (verifying that Wednesdays are indeed the worst).

It's on these plateaus of days that we've decided to do our Happy Hour and I'll tell you friends, it is worth it. Not so much for the drinks or the delicious snacks, but for the company and commiseration that you get during the consumption process. It's a perfect de-stresser. A power-up for the rest of the week, if you will.

Right now, we choose our locales based on their food specials and we're using this list as our guide. If you're in Austin, I highly recommend it. It takes the stress out of picking a place.

The key to a successful happy hour though? Try to avoid a Thursday hangover. There's still two more days in the week to go!


Happy Friday!

PS- If you're in Austin, Contigo has a happy hour worth checking out. $1 fried chicken until it runs out!

Rating: 3/5

Hello There, Blog

I have this bad habit of inspiration with no follow through. That's why this blog was registered about a month ago and this is the first post. There's still something about commitment, after all these years, that still gives me pause. But I'm learning, I promise.

This is going to be Hustle and Whoa. A sort of chronicle/to do/not to do/how to guide of these first cautious steps into real life adulthood.

Here's the sitch: I just graduated law school a few months ago. I get my bar results back (Lord, help me) in a few more months. I'm at an internship that lasts until then and afterwards, it's the big bad world at large. In the mean time, I've got a boyfriend in Houston (and he's taking care of our two cats, Charlie and Rufus), I've got two dogs here (Keller and Windy), I've got siblings, parents, friends, bills, student loans, and a cautionary, positive outlook on the future. So I guess this blog is about all of those things: the #hustle (you already know) and the whoa! (for the happy surprises along the way). Plus it's a pretty good movie. (Taraji + Terrence for life).

I appreciate all of the luck you have to spare and in return, I promise to make the risky moves (for educational purposes, of course).


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