The Not So Secret Life of An Single LA Girl: Chapter 2
By CocoaDiva on May 14, 2009 with Comments
You liked her. We love her. And she is back for another round. Here is Lady V with the next chapter of her LA saga.
Chapter 2: Yeah… and, um… Now what?
We were so glorious in our twenties! Falling in love, adventures unfurling themselves before us, mixing shots of self-doubt and anxiety with chasers of urgency and impatience to create motivation—that fuel we gulped to push ourselves harder, to accomplish that awe-inspiring goal, attain that Job Title, that Degree, establish ourselves with Credibility. I’m there. I became a Lawyer. Well, first I was an Economist. I mean, I got that degree and then worked someplace where I Lobbied and Advocated and Negotiated. I specialized in Economic Development. Very worthy and worthwhile stuff.
Then, I graduated from that and pushed myself into law school. Wasn’t easy to get there, promise you that. I even specialized in very worthwhile subjects like Critical Race Studies and took classes on things like Strategies in Public Interest Advocacy – you know, all that very important stuff that I was going to use to Change the World. Now in my thirties. I’ve got the Degree, the Job Title. I am invited to Conferences.
And I’m realizing, this isn’t it. I have a nagging notion that there is much, much more. The question is, What’s next? I’m not alone. A dear friend has just brokered himself a deal with his employer so that he can live – and surf – in Central America for a few months. Why? Many reasons, but I suspect one is because, well, he turned 35 this year and looked around at his condo, his job, and thought, is this it? I’ve other friends who have just fulfilled – or are on the verge of fulfilling their dreams – Marriage. Kids. Helping to Elect a Dream President. And now, newly, or for the first time in ages asking, What’s next for me?
Some of us are not here by choice. We are scratching by on what got us this far, not having attained those goals or, having been jarred by the fact that there is no There there, it *was* an unattainable dream. Or an unfulfilling one. And we are looking out from behind some blinds – or shit, screaming out the window to all who’ll hear – WTF Am I Gonna Do Now?
A few months ago (ok, more than a few but don’t call me out on that little white lie) I decided that, naturally, my next move was Love. Having never attained that goal, I was going to systematically pursue it like I did my Degrees. I set out to expanding my dating pool, indeed, I set out to dating after not having done so in years. I even started dating – gasp- white guys (a very big deal for a VERY race-conscious, at one point non-leg-or-armpit-shaving, once-tried-to-lock-my-hair, wanna-be-lesbian). Shee- it! I even wrote personal ads for online dating sites, paid my $30 a month, and dedicated time and energy to stoking a few flames here and there.
Then I thought, I’m in the wrong place. Hell-A is just not for me, too much emphasis on the glossy and squeaky shiny, not enough gritty public transit where people jostle by you and you at least touch – physically touch- other human beings who go to work and home and fall asleep on trains and try to pretend they’re in a bubble but they’re not, they’re sitting right smack on you and you on them. Human Touch. Seasons. Shared Human Experience reflected in condensing winter breath. Explicit segregation that allows you to celebrate Café con Leche like your abuela used to serve you and cross a few streets to taste some other dish you never heard of. But want to.
Having lived in most of the major cities already, I visited the one I hadn’t and that had been whispering my name- Chicago. Off I went. Set up dates, job search interviews, called in my friends of friends to show me around the neighborhoods. I had a blast! Day long dates with strong, chivalrous mid-western men. Interviews with kick ass anti-poverty lawyers. Public transit. Boys Town. Girls Town. Hyde Park and Logan Square. But at the end of my tour, I realized, moving was not the answer either. At least not the whole answer.
Something is gestating, though. Taking shape, growing. I am trying to be patient. Trying to go to work when I really ought to, keeping my cases going, build my skills, work around those I have to work around. Tryna stay on my bills so my credit doesn’t worsen. Cherishing each opportunity to nourish my soul with the love of friends who share my passions, who reflect back to me focus and excitement I once had in unlimited supply. I swoon – swoon! – with admiration for those who continue to dedicate boundless energy to their goals. All the while, listening for clues, scanning for an outreached hand, nerves attuned in hopes of a push in a direction. I am, I realized, waiting for a quickening. And as much as I pray for it, I’m harboring a little bit of fear that it will never come.
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