The Next Step

  So, here I sit. In the dark. Writing, because I can't fall asleep. In a couple hours, I load up the car and move to Boston. Orientation Monday and Tuesday, and then classes start. It's time to take the next step in my life. I'm feeling super nervous. A little panic setting in. The scotch is helping.

  I was thinking about writing about Katrina. It's the 10th anniversary of the storm that destroyed New Orleans and, in many ways, set the course of my life, even if I didn't know it then. Of course, I've written about it here before, and the truth is, I don't really have anything new to say, so I suggest you simple check out the few links I've posted on Facebook and enjoy the coverage from Nola.com. I'm proud at the rebirth of my adopted city, angered at the people criticizing the decision to rebuild, and baffled that George W. Bush had the nerve to take part in the commemoration. Given his reaction in the wake, the flyover, and his administration's handling of the storm in the aftermath, the man has no business ever stepping foot in the city again, much less at a tribute to those who lost their lives because of his failures.

  Okay, instead of going off on Katrina, I think I'll quickly summarize the last couple weeks of my life. I spent a week in California and a week in Maine.

  California was a chance to spend time catching up with my former roommates. I arrived fairly late, and Andy met me at the airport. A quick stop over by Matt's for a beer and to say "hi" to him and Sarah before heading back to Andy's place to crash. The next morning, I relocated to Monterrey, our "home base" for the rest of the trip. Checked in at the motel, and while waiting for Harris, spent some time downtown people watching. I'll never understand why girls like taking pictures of themselves drinking Starbucks with their friends. It's coffee (or coffee beverages, in their cases). Still, I can't say "no" to a pretty girl, much less a group of them. Monterrey was quite pretty. Once Harris arrived and Matt and Andy got off work, we went out for dinner (steaks), and then back to the motel for drinks (Harris brought a trunk of good whiskeys and mescal) and catching up. After all, I hadn't really seen these guys since graduation weekend.

  Next morning, after a slow start, we went up to San Jose, where Matt lives and Harris grew up. We grabbed some Mexican and then spent several hours in the rose garden, went for some beers and poutine, and had ice cream for dinner. Day 3 (not counting that first night) was a light day. Harris showed me his childhood home and around San Jose, and then we stopped by a nice wine bar. A friend of Harris', Moberg (who I'd heard quite a bit about), invited us to join him in Redwood city for a beer and dinner, so we did that. Met him at a German bar, had some German beer, and stumbled into a solid bbq joint, where we devoured a family meal and some brisket tacos.

  Of course, no trip to Cali would be complete without a day on the beach, and Day 4 was that, followed by some really good seafood in Moss Landing, then chilling with Andy and having a few drinks in the motel. Day 5 was my last full day in Cali. After packing up and moving out of the motel, we (Harris, Andy, and I) went for a day hike in Point Lobos. An absolutely gorgeous day. Then, back to Matts to chill for a few, and Redwood city for drinks and more Mexican food with Moberg. Then, Andy's. In the morning, I flew out.

  For that trip, the highlight was probably seeing my roommates again, but getting to reunite with our cats was also nice. Kitty is living with Andy, and she's calmed down considerably, though she still loves to play and destroy my foot (still hasn't fully healed). Matt took Kiko, who is the exact same adorable little buddy, loud, obnoxious, his cuteness and friendliness being his evolutionary survival technique, only fatter.

  Upon returning home, I had a day to do laundry, before we loaded up the car to head up to Maine. Raymond, Maine, to be more precise. Jordan Bay, a spur of Sebago Lake, where my mom's college friend has a home. We stayed in their little cabin. We spent many summers up there when I was little, and the cabin looked the exact same. A week of relaxing on the lake was nice. Drinking coffee with ducks, reading and listening to the water, swimming, boating, lobster, local beers from Maine's exploding beer scene, enjoying watching the rain. A week of that was probably a bit much, given the timing, but it was nice.

  So, then I returned home and spent a week dealing with the last second paperwork for Northeastern, which brings me to here, sitting in my bed, the last time for a while, nervous, excited, anxious, packed, ready. I haven't had a first day of school in three years, and the pressure is high with this one. I should probably sleep, though I have a 6-8 hour car ride tomorrow (thankfully, my dad is driving, so I can afford to not fall asleep as I worry tonight). Reading John Grisham's novel The Street Lawyer for a little inspiration, so I will sign off with a quote from the book. The main character is a corporate lawyer, on the path to partner, who is volunteering at a soup kitchen, chatting with the public interest lawyer who invited him.

"I thought you were a lawyer," I said, spreading peanut butter.
"I'm a human first, then a lawyer. It's possible to be both- not quite so much spread there. We have to be efficient"

  Okay, a bit hokey, but I've decided to keep that in mind as a tether for the next few years. So, good night. For those of you, like me, getting ready for school, good luck. For the rest of you, enjoy whatever is going on in your lives.