Happy Monday! As another week rattles off to a riveting start (cough, sputter, chortle), I continue to ponder the possibility of attending law school. I’m considering becoming a certified mediator to gain some perspective into conflict resolution and all that jazz. I think I might actually be quite good at it since the challenge of applying reason and compassion without (or in spite of) emotion appeals to me greatly. Actually, the continual logic-emotional conundrum of our legal system as a whole fascinates me to death. I just love the painful challenge of applying black-letter law in a uniform manner—overcoming the urge to bend it in cases that appeal to us emotionally. The fact that we can only make the system work by applying it to everyone equally is such a bittersweet pain for me, and I love it—like poking at a sore muscle. It’s hard to explain—a bit too cerebral for me to articulate very well.

I don’t think I’ll do a list this morning—I definitely haven’t been thinking about it for the past few days and therefore don’t have anything rattling in the forefront of my consciousness to deposit into readable form.

My latest guilty pleasure is to watch syndicated episodes of Felicity on WE every night. One thing I absolutely appreciate about the schedule is that they legitimately air an episode every single evening. I hate getting attached to a syndicated show during the week and being stranded without it on the weekends. Okay, okay, so I know that says a great deal about me and my relationship with the 13” box on my dresser, but let’s ignore that for a minute. I love watching Felicity for several reasons. 1) I stopped watching on a regular basis when I left Bryn Mawr and it’s nice to catch up on what happened to the show. 2) While at Bryn Mawr, I watched it with a wonderful friend (Kateka) rather religiously and seeing reruns brings about all sorts of nostalgia for sitting on the floor of her room on the miserable third floor of Denbigh Hall (commonly knows as Den of Bitches—that was a bad year to say the least). We would watch and dreamily sigh that that’s what school with boys must be like. Oh, how wrong we were…well, sort of. 3) And this piggybacks on to the end of number 2—there are many pieces of the show that do, in fact, remind me about many good parts of college, and I miss that. As much as everyone is sick of school by the time the graduate, I think there’s a certain sense of insulation and timelessness at college that can’t really be duplicated anywhere else. Even amidst all the growing, the changing, the self-doubting, and the confusion, college felt like one of the safest places I’ve ever been. 4) I take a sick sense of delight and joy is watching the characters make ridiculously bad choices and I shriek at them with unabashed judgement. What can I say, I love watching people screw things up when there aren’t any consequences. 5) Though there are pieces of the show that bear no witness on anything even remotely resembling reality, the writers actually managed to nail a bunch of things on the head. I find myself watching and nodding (at least internally) at many of the things the characters experience. There’s some truth there, though you might have to wade through Keri Russell’s hair to find it.

So if you read this blog on anything like a regular basis (or if you sporadically flip through the archives), you know that I am entirely and unapologetically single right now. I can’t decide how I feel about that. On the one hand, it’s fabulous and I am extremely pleased to have nothing in the way of romantic distractions or obligations to clutter this already confusing time. It’s especially freeing whilst I search for a grad school decision since I can change my plan radically from day to day without feeling like I have to justify my complete about-face to the person on the other side of the bed. That said, I greatly miss having someone over there. That’s the funny part—even though I would admittedly love to have someone around to talk with and horse around in the kitchen, it’s the physical contact that I miss the most. I am a very tactile, kinesthetic person and after all is said and done, I greatly prefer to have someone to drape myself across and just feel. It’s not even a sexual thing…just tactile. *Sigh*, yet another thing I can’t really explain. Sadly, there really isn’t a solution for isolating that need and filling it. I’ve been there before—Mr. Drama has stayed over for purely close sleeping and it was some of the best sleep I’ve ever had—but I’m pretty sure that was only possible given the long and varied path our relationship has taken. I think you have to pretty much exhaust any sexual tension that may lie between you before friendly bedfellow situations are possible, and that takes both time and inevitable pain before that point is reached. Sadly, the recent (arg, not so recent anymore, I guess) introduction of Mr. Drama’s future bride has wholly squelched the possibility of that ever happening again. I’m still a little skeptical about that whole thing, if you can’t tell. (See the entry for the week of November 25 for the backstory on Mr. Drama.)

So I don’t know where that leaves me, and that’s probably the most honest and complete statement I can make about the whole relationship issue at this time. I really don’t know what I want. That certainly isn’t to say that my ambivalence should be seen as refusal to accept possibilities or opportunities that may present themselves to me. I guess I’m more in line with entering a We Shall See mindset for the time being.

And see we shall….