Clarity Before The Storm

So, today I've been sitting in my apartment waiting for the doom that is Sandy to rain over me... yep, that's a Who reference.

It was while I was sitting alone in my apartment that I let my mind wander a little bit, a dangerous prospect for me as a law school. I asked myself a question that I knew would lead to me writing something like this, so that's good I guess? Listed below is one of the worst questions a person sitting alone in an apartment can ask themselves and if you are in that situation I recommend that you turn back now.

Do I feel fulfilled in my personal life?

Man, that's like a slug to the chest when you're sitting all alone. There are a lot of things that went into answering this question. Questions of self-esteem, happiness of what I'm doing, happiness of life and other and I've come to this conclusion...

I'm not fulfilled.

Why is this? Do I question my decision to go to law school? No, I'm enjoying law school very much and am happy that I've taken this path. Am I upset that I have very few people I'm particularly close to? That may be. I enjoy the amount of acquaintances I have, but if you were to ask me a question of who I felt a deep friendship with in my life the answer to that question would be much smaller than I care to admit. Am I happy  in my relationship status? Not especially, it's very hard knowing that many of my friends and acquaintances are in relationships and I have no one to share life with at this point.

So, what is a person to do? Well, it's probably very simple. I need to finally manifest my feelings and continue to step further outside myself to get what I want out of life. I cannot be a idle spectator in my life, I have to get involved. This is a first step, the next step is easily the hardest one, which is to do these things.

Only I can be held accountable for these changes, so I hope that those of you who read this understand that I am not coming from a dark place with this. I'm not sitting at my table with the blade pressed to my wrist looking for attention. This is an easier way for me to manifest these thoughts and provide some peace of mind to myself and accountability for them by putting them out there for you to hold me to. I look forward to take this transformative journey with all of you in my life be you family, friend or acquaintances.

~ RB

Midnight In Paris

So, while I was in France I spent some nights writing (spare me the boos I know you are throwing from behind your monitor). I was trying to come up with something decent that summed up my trip for you guys, and I think I got close, but also got really introspective into a side of me I don't like to bring out often. That being said, here's my little non-fiction essay about my time spent in France.

The Americans in Paris

As you read this, you should know I am writing on Thursday, 17/3/11. It is Saint Patrick's Day and I am sitting on my twin bed at the FIAP Jean Monnet in Paris France. I stare at a white sheet of paper and white stucco walls as I begin to write this piece with my favorite red pen. It is just past midnight, Thursday has just begun and for the majority of us, the night is young.

My roommate for the week Barry has stepped out with Diana and Amy to hit up the clubs and bars of Paris, while I have chosen to stay in as I always do. Tomorrow I will visit the cemetery where Oscar Wilde, Chopin, and Jim Morrison are buried before embarking on an adventure to a European football match.

The night is as young as an infant to most, this is my 4th day here, but I feel as if I have only just arrived. As the rest of the group descends on Paris, the night glows bright like Times Square on New Years, it is a night of celebration, a night to party. The flags have been raised and Paris has been put on notice, the Americans have arrived.

However, it is not just us who have arrived, world travelers from all corners of the globe has descended on Paris. Outside my window I hear the shouts of an Argentinean rugby team and outside my door I hear the conversation of some Canadians. If America is a melting pot, Paris is a petri dish of culture, all forms and different people thrown together in one large social experiment, all existing as different strains of the same DNA, the DNA of humanity.

I reflect on the week to that point. I have seen things so majestic and moving that some people may only see once in a lifetime. It is in this moment that the true paradox of Paris becomes clear. It is a city tied to the past with such reverence for the days of European strength, trying to exist in the world of an ever changing and complex future. Parisians and tourists then are prisoners of the present, caught in a place where moments last for eternity as time continually moves forward.

It is in this cruel constraint that we must exist, I have gone without any type of electronic technology for 4 days, and I am perfectly ok in saying that. Others through wait for the moment in which they can return stateside to cradle their effective cell phones again.

It is in small moments where time freezes where I hope to remember this vacation. I fear however that for most of us, the stories and moments they remember will be nights of wild parties and sweet wine. Instead of being left breathless by viewing the Eiffel Tower at night, they may remember the flashing lights of a nightclub. Instead of marveling at the Mona Lisa, they will marvel as they made it back to the hostel at 5:15 in the morning.

It is not that I hate people who drink, far from it. It is that after seeing how alcoholism makes people act and having it be in my family, I have never had a drink of alcohol. I know plenty of people who do, but the idea of a night I can't remember is much less pleasant to think about than a night I'll never forget. Plus, I'm fun enough without drinking anyway.

It is in this moment that I realize that I am not having as much fun on this trip as I should. That is not to say I'm having a terrible time, but the truth of the matter is that I have nothing in common at all with any of the people I am traveling with. Once this trip is over, I will probably never talk to any of them again, while they have formed some connection. I feel ostracized from the group, a lonely traveler through France.

The other question I needed to understand the answer to was why was I here. What had I come to Paris to find? Pictures fade over time, memories fade as we age, but it is the stories that we have to hold onto. For most it'll be the crazy nightlife, but what is it for me?

It won't be of the food, although Steak Tartar and Creme Brulee were surprising good. It won't be of the spiritual experiences, even though Notre Dame is enough to bring any man to their knees. It will not be of the history, enough though seeing all the tourist spots makes everything seems so small over time.

It is then that I think of a few hours earlier. I got on the metro on my way back to the hostel after a group dinner. On the train with me were two attractive American girls, one blond, one brunette with southern drawls. A few stops before I saw supposed to get off, the brunette stood to leave. I knew that I could keep going on, but I also knew that I could transfer back to this line. I needed to find her, for that moment where ever she was was where I wanted to be.

I dashed off the train and followed her through the largest metro station in Paris, getting short of breath and slightly irritated that she has always just out of reach. She got in front of a group of tourists on a moving walkway and with one more turn she was gone, another shadow in the City of Lights.

As I think back to that moment, I thought why did I do it? In asking this question I found not only the answer, but also the answer to what I came to Paris to find. I came to rekindle the magic of life. I had been swept up for a moment in a opportunity that never arose. I learned that magic is where fortune and luck meet at the intersection of life.

As I sit here, I here the Frenchmen outside my door say Merci to someone and I want to take this moment to say Merci Vocu to Paris. Thank you for letting this American be swept up in the magic of your city if only for a little while.

Law School Quartet

As my regular readers know I'm going to law school and I'm also trying to figure out these emotions as we go, so here's 4 new poems I pounded out this afternoon. This also includes my first attempt at slam style, it's not good... but it's a start.

I: Gray Matters

Yes
Knowledge is power
Context is key
Answers are Concrete
Hard and Gray
No

II: Jazz Law

Torts Nova, Civ Pro Stomp,
Contract Blues.
Cases serve only to comp,
which do you choose?

Sometimes it hinges on
what people don't say.
It looks like an easy response
Ipsa Res

So what is this thing
I signed up for here?
I guess it's like jazz
not usually clear.

So make sure your ideas
get proper gestation,
It's all about the journey,
hardly the destination.

III: Lawyer Haiku

I know I don't know,
I know that I can know that
I will know... not yet.

IV: Leap of Faith

You are good enough.
You are smart enough.
People like you,
You can be a success.

You leap from the cliff
into the great unknown,
flying with wings made of
self-assurance and hope.

But uncertainty and
self doubt begin to
melt these wings like
an Icarian Sun.

Here's hoping we made
our wings strong enough to get
to the other side.