Happy Birthday, Sister-Friend

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Wine and cheese...and hot dogs.

Sweet Cheeks wine tasting room

Root beer is classier in a wine glass (and tastes better when it's free)

Photo credit goes to Amanda on this one

Last night a bunch of us girls got together and went up to Sweet Cheeks Winery.  It was a much needed break from the fruitless job searching and the silence of my apartment.  The weather was absolutely perfect: not too hot and not a cloud in the sky.  One of the perks about being the non-drinker in the group was that my drink of choice (root beer) was compliments of Sweet Cheeks.  I liked that they gave me a wine glass to drink it in; not only did I get drink out of the big kid glass, but since they poured the whole bottle in, anyone who didn't know what I was drinking probably thought I was a lush.  Ha!

Three bottles of wine later, we made our way back into Eugene and hit up Starlight, which was packed with law students.  I kinda felt like the senior that graduated from high school the year before but still goes to the high school parties, but this was nowhere near as creepy since we weren't 18 year olds hitting on high school freshman.  

Since alcohol and an empty stomach is not a good combination, we found a street vendor that was selling hot dogs, which I was happy to buy for anyone that needed one since the last thing I wanted was someone throwing up (especially in my car).  I've had that happen once and it was the worst experience of my life.  Luckily, everyone just got nice and drunk and my sanity remained relatively intact.  A successful night indeed!

For future reference though, wearing heels for extended periods of time the night before you plan on running 10 miles is not the best idea.  Also, not eating dinner and just grabbing handfuls of cheese and crackers instead isn't exactly the greatest pre-run meal.  Oh well, the extra minute added to my pace was worth the night out...

The Young and the Restless

You would think that with nothing but time on my hands, I'd have more time to update this thing.  The funny thing about having nothing to do though is that that's when I get the least work done.  For instance, I promised myself that my poor suffering apartment would get a much needed deep cleaning once I got home and the bar was a distant memory (at least for now).  Almost a month post-bar and the only major accomplishment has been stacking all my Barbri books on my bookshelf.  Hopefully, come November, they can get the proper treatment they deserve...which will be anything involving fire...

I wish I could say that I've enjoyed myself post-bar.  I wish I could say that a weight was lifted off my shoulders and I finally felt like I could breathe again; today though, when I was out running along the river, I couldn't breathe.  Literally.  I was four miles into my run and suddenly, all of the thoughts about moving back to Cottage Grove in October, being unemployed, being lonely, missing people, sent me into a bona fide panic attack.  I started hyperventilating and had to stop for about five minutes because I couldn't breathe.  It felt like my throat had closed up to the size of one of those tiny straws you use to stir your coffee with.  It's a terrifying feeling.  I still had another mile and a half to go though, so once that drowning feeling went away, I turned my iPod back on, found the loudest, angriest, most aggro song on my playlist ("Freak On a Leash" by Korn), turned it up, and just tried not to think.

I feel stuck.  I log on to Facebook and see people posting pictures from their post-bar trips or talking about how they're exhausted from their first week of work and I just wonder if that's ever going to be me.  I mean, obviously I'll have a job, but will it be something that represents the 22 years of my life that I've invested in my education (and not to mention a lot of money) or will I be a part-time shop girl or waitress?  I read an article not to long ago that described my generation as the generation of entitlement because we all feel like we're entitled to more than what we have.  But looking at all of the time I've invested in school, all of the money, and a summer lost to the California bar exam, I don't feel bad about expecting more.  I'm not asking for the $100k starting salary, I'm just asking for someone to call me back for an interview!  I want to have a job so I can start saving to go on that post-bar trip that most likely won't happen for several more years.  But mostly, I want a job so I can finally feel like an adult and not have a panic attack whenever I need to go grocery shopping...

I also feel bad for my mom for having to put up with me.  I really want to look on the bright side, but I think with the reality of moving back to Cottage Grove in October if I don't find a job by then hanging over my head, everything just seems bleak.  I can't even mask how depressed that thought makes me.  Somedays I can hide it better than others, but this week I haven't even tried.

I just hope next week is better than this week.  Or something happens on Friday that magically turns this into the best week ever...

...I think I'll shoot for next week.

Chick Flick Hangover

Turning on "Nights in Rodanthe" was a bad idea.  Now I just find myself wishing I had someone to dance with on a pier, overlooking the ocean and the stars.

Damn you, Nicholas Sparks...

We Now Rejoin "Life," Already in Progress...

It's done.

Last week I spent three glorious days in a freezing cold Pasadena Convention Center taking the bar exam.  I'm proud to report that I did not freak out like I expected (I only cried once, after the end of the first day, but exhaustion was more the cause of that) and stayed surprisingly calm throughout.  As for how I did, I won't even speculate.  The thought of having to go through this experience all over again right now makes me want to run screaming for the hills, so for now, all I can say is that I did it, I survived, and now I'll just wait...

Once I finished the test, I went out for a celebratory dinner with Kim at Islands in Pasadena.  She was telling me how one of her other friends took the bar that week too and after she was done went straight to the salon to get a haircut.  I totally understood the feeling.  I'd been trying to fight bar exam induced ugliness through the entire two month process, but the circles under my eyes were definitely getting darker those last two weeks and while I still managed to avoid living in sweats (the sure sign that you've given up), I definitely wasn't looking to impress from my lonely cubicle in the library.

So the first order of business on Friday (besides getting my rental car)?  Cheap pedicures!  I still don't understand how Oregon gets away with charging $35 minimum for a pedicure when I got a very nice one for $13!  I was still exhausted, but at least my toes looked pretty.

After some bumming around LA, I headed down to San Diego to see Tina for a post-bar/belated birthday (hers) celebration.  I knew I was shooting myself in the foot (pretty pedicured foot) when I left at 3:00 p.m. on a Friday, so the drive that was supposed to take two hours ended up taking four.  When I finally got down there, we headed downtown for dinner at Yard House and met up with her sister later at the Marriott before grabbing dessert at Ghirardelli.  All in all, a successful first day back from bar prep hell.

After brunch in La Jolla, I headed back up to LA.  I'd booked a hotel for the night that advertised it was "right behind LA Live!" but that turned out to be a load of crap.  It was nowhere near LA Live, but actually in a really sketchy area (like, I was afraid to leave my room once I checked in).  That's what I get for not paying attention to the address when booking.  Thankfully, Kim called to check up on me and offered her room at her apartment while she was out of town.  I'd only been at the hotel for an hour, but I quickly packed up everything and jumped into my car and headed for safety.  I was out $60, but that was fine by me.  It meant I wasn't afraid to leave and go hit up a movie and wander around The Grove, enjoying my last few moments of freedom in LA.

I forget how beautiful everyone in LA is.  I lived there for four years, but for some reason I really noticed it this time around.  I kept hearing ads on the radio for a surfing competition in Huntington Beach, so I decided to drive down and check it out.  Unfortunately, everyone else in the area had the same idea.  While I was looking for parking, I noticed all of the girls on their bikes and in their bikinis and started to feel like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man in comparison (both in color and shape).

I literally stand no chance against these girls.  I mean, I'm sure it didn't help that I was felt like I looked like death from being stressed out about the bar and my hair was not responding well to the humidity (if I ever move back I'm gonna have to start investing in regular hair straightening treatments again...or the good of the people around me).  I can almost (ALMOST) understand why D-Listers like Heidi Montag have plastic surgeons on retainer.

Don't worry, the likelihood of me going under the knife is slim to none.  It does mean though that I'll be adding a few extra miles to my weekly runs.  And maybe keep up with the self-tanner a little better than I have been during bar prep (again, sitting alone in the library, I didn't really see the point).

...I wonder what I'd look like as a blond?  Maybe just some blond highlights?  Hmmm...

Minus the blow to the self-esteem, it felt so great to spend my first few days of freedom in LA.  Every time I go back it feels even harder to leave because I know that it's my real home.  I can't explain the feeling, I just know that while waking up in my comfortable bed was a nice change from the hotels, I felt a little sad all day knowing I was back in Oregon for the foreseeable future.  Sigh...

Oh LA, I love you.  Hopefully I'll see you sooner rather than later...