In the end,  I know many will leave my life. I leave each place. This time it is on great terms. My boss seems to think I will become a great attorney. However, in one week I do not know where I will go.

I have let my life come to standstill. 

I am afraid of what is to come. People pull me to the Midwest. People pull me to the coast. People pull me toward Boise. Some pull me in other directions. Each one has its own set of distinct possibilities. Truth is ... I'm tired of moving. I'm tired of developing awesome friendships to watch them go away. I'm tired of having no roots and feeling like I cannot build something better.

I must pick a direction and move. Tomorrow or today, I will make a final decision. This life is up to me. I won't go out without a fight. I'll find deep connections, truth, love, and adventure again. No one has to believe in me except myself.

It's a metaphor

I came upon a rose. I stared at its crimson leaves, and tried holding it in my hands. My fingers bled as I pricked my fingers against its stem. I felt the wound in the moist air, and I held my breath. It was much better than feeling nothing. I feel better when I bleed.

Walking in the spring weather, life drifts eternal as a steady wind sweeps through the North End. It is a comfortable silence, and I feel the my soul's steady rhythm as I prepare for another night that will go until 2 or 3am. Soon, music will cue up for another night of punk, folk, indie, techno, and soul.

Life has been hectic lately. I never thought so much would have happened since I bought these tickets. Now, I am glad I did because this is a good release from the steady torture of the uncertain. Will my ambitions eventually kill me? Who knows.

While I have a soul and while there is a need, I must keep trying to make the biggest difference I can. I have been gifted to have the life I have led so far. Therefore, I must keep striving and believing in change and helping one another. It is scary, but I feel so close to finding my rhythm. I feel close to finding a sense of home again. Wish me luck. I certainly need it.

How will I measure my life?

Today, a young tax attorney told me to read the book, "How You Will Measure Your Life" by Clayton Christensen. It comes hard on this day of all days. It is not only Valentines Day, but it is a day filled with memories of planning for birthdays, of trips, of romantic encounters, and small adventures. I wonder if he knows how much I relish the idea of family, the idea of building something else in this life, how much I adored the ones who came close to me, how much I regret an existence away from my closest friends.

Though, not all is depressing ... 

Recently, I have felt the heat of battle. My cases involve consumer and housing issues. I help people battle a system that treats people as chattel. It does not appreciate their full, living, breathing, loving human selves. My opponents talk as if they are cogs in a machine not able to do what they feel is just. Imagine an 80-year-old getting evicted because of a "problem with a toilet" or  a blind man who is told he has two days to find another home.

The law protects these individuals. However, it is only as good as their access to it. No judge stands up for these people. Most people do not even see the insides of our courthouses. They are tricked into taking default judgements, told they have no recourse and no justice is found in those halls. Now, our Congress is trying to dry up funding for my organization and many like it across the country. The only reason I could think of is to fully exploit the poorest in our population. It's a real travesty. Blah.

Sometimes, I must go back and read these posts. I must see how I was feeling at the time to truly reflect on my present. The beauty in writing is that one can capture those emotions while in the thick of it.


As of now, I am an attorney fighting for the public interest. I do civil work on behalf of low income people. My bills seem to be falling in to order, and I get outside enough to satiate my more wild side (at least for now). I have blisters on my heels from miles and miles of classic cross country skiing in MT. I never imagined it would be such a physical workout, but my adventure partner is nothing more than a machine.

I go head to head with attorneys, and I hold my own. Nearly all the cases I have taken have had favorable outcomes, which has surprised me.

Still, it's not very ideal. I am alone constantly and when I make plans people cancel at the last second. I am surrounded by Trump supporters and people who think money should rule the world. I take trips and visit great people, and they make me wish I was building this life elsewhere, which gets me into a pretty big funk.

I have time. I must return to writing for catharsis' sake.