Friday, May 16, 2014

A Pregnant Pause

"Her life was full of incident but not of accomplishment."

That's something E.B. White wrote about his dog, Daisy, in her obituary after she was accidentally run over by a car.
As I sit before my laptop at two a.m. this evening, when studying feels almost more impossible than failing the bar exam (for a third time, mind you), I feel like this could very well be the sort of thing written about me at my death.

Her life was full of incident but not of accomplishment.
She enjoyed many a lover but, alas, never found that special investor willing to purchase the cow, 
having gotten the milk for free. 
Though there were things she was good at--keeping her ever hopeful pets from escaping;
remembering lines from iconic teen films--
the longer list to be had was what she was not good at, 
specifically having never really made use of her Undergraduate or Legal Degrees.
She is survived by several tiny balls of hair she left laying around her home 
and her cat, Venkman, who finally succeeded in escaping.


Maybe all of this existentialism is being brought about by the fact that I turn 27 in less than a month. 
In October, having been unceremoniously dumped by Crane, having quit my first job and having no other prospective job lined up, and having received the news that I would be taking the bar a second time, I created a small point graph that I dubbed the "Chart of Twenty-Six-itude." It basically plotted all my high, low, and plateau points over the year. I carried it around with me, as if I needed a physical reminder of all the nagging failures loudly chatting consistently in my head, until one day I dropped it and had to retrace my steps to recover it, for fear that someone else would read it and understand how truly pathetic and disappointing this year has been. 

When I'm tired of self-loathing, I pull my head out of my ass for a moment and think about the things that *are* right. My chief happiness is being in this city and living so close to my brother. He's my family, in both the literal sense of our being brother and sister, but also by way of our relationship giving me a sense of stability, and belonging, and safety. I'm happy here because he's here.
Even still, if you take that away, I still have so much that I am grateful for.

I told a friend recently,
"It's not that I haven't actually done anything this year, it's just that it feels sometimes that even though time is moving forward, my life is at a stand still. It's like I'm not progressing. I feel like I've been paused."

And although that's an accurate statement of how I feel right now, I'm almost positive that if I call this part of my life a pause, (I can only hope) it's apt to be a pregnant pause.

 Wiktionary describes pregnant pauses as those giving, "the impression that it will be followed by something significant." 

& I have to believe that whatever happens from here, whatever is next, will be just that--significant.

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