It’s amazing how I can feel like an complete success and an absolute failure at the same time. My job title finally says “Senior” before it. I make the equivalent of 2,707,068 gummi bears a year (based on current price of 5lb bag on amazon). That’s significantly more than the average family of four in California. And I just got a full scholarship to law school. By a lot of measures, I’m pretty damn cool. Yes, some moments I feel like a complete success.

But I live in the spare bedroom at my in-laws. And I feel lame. It was supposed to be temporary. We were moving 3,000 miles across the country and had already been approved for a substantial home loan. We needed a temporary place to stay while the home purchase went through.

But it didn’t go through. We put offers on four houses. And each time, there was some major issue problem. Once, the houses was officially on two lots and the bank “accidentally” only foreclosed on one lot so they only owned 1/2 the house. Another time, the neighbor claimed that the actual house was one foot over the property line – and that he could make us tear off the last foot of the house. We didn’t want to take on the legal battle. Each time an offer fell through, and we put in another offer, we thought “Only 30 more days – its silly to move out”. But then thatoffer fell throught too.

Now it is approaching six months. And all I want to do be able to get up and go pee in the middle of the night without having to put pants on first or to be able to sleep on the couch without feeling like the world (or at least my in-laws) are judging my newly established marriage and assuming we are DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMED. I want a house dammit (or at least a yurt in the wilderness somewhere where I NEVER have to wear pants).

She was talking about how pitiful her pets where when she rescued them, but I have spent several years working with animal rescue.  And when I adopted my dog, she had been beaten with a 2×4 and then left in a kennel until she was 30 lbs underweight with hookworms, ear infections, and kennel sores.  The vet said if she had been there three more days, she would have died.  The topic turned to “Dancing with the Stars” (which apparently everyone in my office except me watches regularly).  While we were talking about dancing and she mentioned that she used to do gymnastics.  I used to compete on my college ballroom dance team (and made it to collegiate nationals).   I have some *crazy* ballroom dance stories.  

In fact, every direction the conversation turned, I had a “story topper”.  I mean, I *did* just find out that I got a full scholarship to law school last week.  And I *was* certified as a foster parent.  And *I* do volunteer rescuing puppies, and I *did* place in collegiate nationals for ballroom dancing.   I graduated high school (with honors) in three years, and college in three years (with two majors and high honors).  And it isn’t like everything was handed to me. 

My life is like on of those horrible “Lifetime Television Network” movies about overcoming diversity (while finding true love and saving the world).  And If I randomly ended up watching my life story on Lifetime I would laugh at how crazy and unrealistic it was.   I really wish my life were LESS like a lifetime movie.  But it isn’t like I make this stuff up.   And having a horribly “adversity” filled existence while actually *doing* things (like foster parenting, volunteering, going to grad school, and competing in ballroom dancing) lends itself to having stories.  I actually *do* have more to talk about than what color my baby’s poo is.  Why do people always talk about their baby’s poo? 

In the end, I just shut up.  I didn’t mention competing at collegiate nationals for ballroom dancing, or the full scholarship I just recieved to law school.  I didn’t really mention anything about me.  I just smiled and nodded.  Because that is what most people want.  But I concluded that, in the future, I will be less annoyed by “story toppers”.  In fact, if I am around someone that *really* can constantly “top” ALL my stories, maybe I need to become a more interesting person.

When I told my mother-in-law, she said (paraphrased of course), “You’re a rockstar ballerina-princess-astronaut!”.  When I told my actual mom she said (again paraphrased), “Oh.  I didn’t know law school scholarships were commonplace.  I guess I was wrong.”  She then also asked if this was to the crummy school that I wasn’t really seriously considering.  *Sigh*.  I love how supportive my mom is.  (Actually, she occasionally is really supportive.  and I DO love her). 

Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t like I got a free ride at Stanford (or even Santa Clara).  I’m aware that Golden Gate is a 4th tier school.  But a free law degree is a free law degree (even if the school did almost lose their accreditation a few years ago because students couldn’t pass the bar exam).  I’m a firm believer that you get out of your education what you put into it.   And I believe that the professors at most schools are competent, and if I want to learn I can (even if I’m not at Stanford).  When I pass the bar exam (even if I don’t get my degree from Stanford), I still get to put J.D. after my name on my business card.   Since I don’t want to become an evil-puppy-kicking-corporate-lawyer, I don’t need to make fancy connections with smarmy Ivy-League trust-fund douches (who are probably a lot smarter than me).  Ok, so I wouldn’t turn Harvard down if they offered me a free ride or even if they just let me in – and made me pay for it (or if they asked for me to pay full tuition and give them one of my kidneys).  But they didn’t let me in (well, I didn’t bother to apply because I *am* smart enough to know they wouldn’t have).   

Being the slight over-acheiver that I am, one of the first things I did after finding out that I had a full scholarship was look at the recommended reading list.  I also took some time to drool over sexy laptops like the new tiny sony vaio.  Squee!    Even though I’m not *that* concerned about the 4th tier ranking of my law school, the suggested reading list for prospective students has me a little worried.  The titles include: World’s Wackiest Lawsuits by K.R. Hobbie,  Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, and Loony Laws and Silly Statutes by Sheryl Lindsell-Roberts…  What have I gotten myself into?  

Around 6:30, I was talking to a friend’s wife online who just went back to school to get her MBA. She seems to be enjoying it. It occurred to me that I like school. And going back to school wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. So, I googled law schools within driving distance of me that had evening programs (which of course excludes all the “real” law schools). The selection was limited, but there were a few decent options.

Luckily, I had taken the LSATs in 2005 for kicks. And apparently they are still good. So, about an hour after I first had the thought that going back to school wouldn’t be a horrible idea, I filled out the generic info in the online application. And since I was applying to a “night school” (aka crummy) program, I apparently didn’t need letters of recommendation. All that remained was the a personal statement. I hate personal statements. I really, really hate writing personal statements.

Is it bad that I just paid $80.00 for a law school application, but used a (very) slightly modified version of my OkCupid profile as my “personal statement”? Yes, my personal statement talked about the amazingness of gummi bears, notes my ability to create exceptional lemon crème brûlée, and mentions that “za” should not be a legal scrabble word. What do you think my odds of getting accepted are?

If I were a (crummy) law school, I would *totally* accept me.

p.s. I reached post 100…

I wrote a response to his email, and then decided to post the response in my journal. So, here is a slightly amended version of my response to that question….

UnNamedOkCupidUser,

Sadly, it appears that my OkCupid journal has died. There were a plethora of forces that converged to cause this unfortunate event.

First: I’ll admit that one the motivating forces for my excessive OkCupid journaling was my perpetually single relationship status. Last October I reunited with an “Old Flame”. In January we decided to get married. My wedding is a week from Saturday. I know it is a devastating loss to the dating pool.

Second: I ran out of interesting stories. Believe it or not, there are only so many (non-incriminating) exciting (or not so exciting) stories that a girl can tell. Eventually, I realized that I had written pretty much everything I had to say. My journal had the option of declining in quality (much like the Simpsons and pretty much every decent TV show that has made it past two seasons) or terminating. I could already see the quality declining. And that *would* have been a devastating loss to my self esteem. I don’t like writing crap.

Third (and probably most important): When I switched jobs in January, I was no longer able to access OkCupid at work. If you didn’t notice, most of my journal entries were posted between the hours of 8am and 5pm. OkCupid was a nice way to pass time when I was at work. But it wasn’t engaging enough for me to spend my off-duty hours here. I know, it was a devastating loss to the OkCupid community.

Ok, I guess three reasons doesn’t really count as a “plethora”. But I like the word “plethora” – so I will just assume that there are many other minor reasons that my journal ended that aren’t worth adding to the list. For example, I get bored easily and shift obsessions every few months.

Anyways, the point is that my journal ended and it is unlikely that it will restart. At one point, I wanted to reach 100 entries (I was close). But I didn’t.

Actually – I hope you don’t mind if I post this message in my journal. You aren’t the first person to send an OkCupid message asking why I no longer post journal entries. You are just one of the few people that I actually cared about enough to explain everything to. (For anyone reading this that I didn’t respond to – I apologize — some of you I didn’t care about. Some of you just sent messages at really busy times and I actually thought about writing back — I just never got around to it. It’s possible that I don’t actually hate you. It’s equally possible that I do).

Thank you for caring. Surprisingly, it means a lot to me. Some days I feel very disconnected from the world. Things in my life are going well. It looks like I may be moving to California (again). I’m getting married (as mentioned earlier). I’m selling my house, buying a new house and I just got a swanky 1969 volvo (beige and shiny with red interior). The shiny new job that I was excited about starting last January (about the time I stopped writing) isn’t working out very well. I am bored there which is one of the reasons I am most likely moving to California. I have a new shiny job offer there. So, things are going fine for me. I hope they are for you too.

Kind regards,
Nahgems

I try to be a fantastic person. I volunteer, I’m vegetarian (except gummi bears), and I use energy efficient light bulbs. I subscribe to greendimes so that I’m not contributing to the 100 million trees that are ground up each year for unsolicited mail.

But there are lots of things that I don’t do. For example, I’m sure most of my clothes were produced in horrible fiery sweatshops by starving abused children with big sad puppy dog eyes. And I still eat gummi bears with gelatin (and I mostly don’t feel bad about it). I’m not perfect (or even close).

The people that I enjoy spending time with don’t have to choose the same causes as I do. They don’t have to tutor, rescue puppies, or be vegetarian. Some of my friends are actively involved in politics (I’m not really, and I realize I should be). Some take underpaid jobs that help society instead of rockstar jobs that pay well. But generally the people that I like try to have a net positive impact on the world.

Then I started thinking about what having a “net positive impact” means. According to the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency, the average American generates about 4.5 pounds of trash per day, with just over 1 pound of that being diverted for recycling. And In a single year, the average American home uses about 84,000 cubic feet of natural gas for heating and cooling, heating water, cooking, and other purposes. There are countless atrocities that happen far away (and we are all vaguely aware of) that go into making our everyday lives as comfortable as they are. And while we all realize that all of our consumable goods have a horrible impact on the world, we generally ignore this.

I’m not so sure that tutoring one night a week, and fostering puppies, and avoiding meat, and mostly recycling, and stopping my junk mail, and fostering kids, and using energy efficient light bulbs can make up for that. I don’t think I have a net positive impact on the world. Perhaps it would be a better place without me?

I’m not saying I’m suicidal (or homicidal). But I am having a really hard time justifying my existence and I try really hard to be a good person. I’m having an even harder time justifying almost everyone else’s. At this point I don’t really think any of us have a net positive impact on the world. Do you?

Anyways, my Mom has traditionally hosted Christmas Eve dinner (which is by far the bigger celebration in our house). My grandma has hosted Christmas Day. But my Grandma is old. And tired. And spends most of her time trying to get my Grandpa to keep his pants on. And she can’t really handle hosting Christmas Day dinner anymore. So earlier this year my mom announced she would host both. And I feel bad. And I was thinking of offering to host Christmas Day.

The problem is, Christmas (for my family) is a celebration where we embrace the important Christian virtue of gluttony. Yes, my family really likes food (especially chocolate). But I am vegetarian (except for gummi bears). And I’m not about to serve roast beast (or turducken, or any other animal flesh). And I’m also not about to subject my family to the joy of tofurkey (It’s awful. It really doesn’t taste like turkey. And it has a scary texture. Don’t let the clever name fool you).

So before I actually offer to cook dinner and host a large group of family members in my tiny house, I thought I would ask your opinion. Because if I offer, my mom will probably be too polite to say no. But I don’t want people to be disappointed, after all it Christmas – the random day people decided to celebrate the birth of Santa Claus. So, for once, I actually care what you have to say. I was wondering if normal people would be disappointed with a Christmas dinner that contained:

Roasted Vegetable Cornicopia’s with (non-meaty) Gravy, Homemade Farmhouse Rolls, Pear and Walnut Salad with Wheat Beer Vinaigrette, Mashed Potatoes with Sage and White Cheddar, Crisp Haricots Verts with Pine Nuts, Cranberry Sauce with Port and Dried Figs, and Lemon Creme Brulee.

Would you eat it? Would you complain to my face? Would you complain behind my back? Would you starve rather than consume my non-meaty Christmas feast? Would you leave hungry and go home and binge on gummi bears and Arby’s nasty almost-beef? Would you pray to Jesus that I die a horrible fiery death for ruining the holiday that celebrates the random day that historians agree he probably wasn’t born on?

Anyways, that was not the point of this rant. The point was that (according to my sister) the veracity of my journal is similar to that of a lifetime move. I occasionally embellish the truth because it is much more interesting that way. I don’t outright lie, but two days ago when I said that creepy guys scared my sister away, the reality was that she mostly got bored with OkCupid. You guys just weren’t entertaining enough (although there was this guy that was pretty creepy…). And while my sister’s hair is slightly unkempt, calling it “a cross between a fiery tumbleweed and an electrocuted hamster” may have been a bit harsh. And on the 25th when I said that it was possible my research would accomplish evil things, I wasn’t actually worried that my research would accomplish evil things. In fact, I find it highly unlikely (but possible). And yesterday when I wrote a post “complaining” that OkCupid had labeled me as “pure” and “compassionate”, I didn’t really need your reassurance that “I don’t think anyone takes the icons seriously”. And Saturday when I posted concern because one of my acquaintances called me, Career Girl™ Barbie®, I wasn’t actually worried that I resembled Career Girl™ Barbie® (My suit was like, totally brown, and hers was like, totally black. And she totally has bangs. I so *totally* did not look like her…).

My dry sense of humor is what makes my posts mildly entertaining. I just didn’t realize that it had reached a level where it was parched beyond recognition as humor. But based on the seriousness of some of the responses I have been getting, apparently it has. I assure you, I am not melodramatic enough to be actually offended by being called compassionate.

So I just wanted to make sure that everyone who was reading my journal actually realized that I’m generally not entirely serious when I post (although I *do* generally believe the gist of what I say). I don’t necessarily believe in “magical-statistics-gnomes” inside the OkCupid computers. And while I *am* obsessed with gummi bears, I do occasionally eat real foods. And I (mostly) realize that I will never be a ballerina-astronaut (or Noam Chomsky) when I grow up. And I don’t actually think science is my religion.

Also, for those of you who read my journal regularly, you may be interested to know that I turned down the Bausch & Lomb, Sr. Programmer/Analyst job. I accepted the other offer which I’m not actually going to give you details about. If I gave you details, then you would know where I work and you could hunt me down and that would be creepy. So at this point all I can say is that I am neither a ballerina-astronaut nor Noam Chomsky. *Sigh*

and I haven’t altered the answers to any of my questions, and I haven’t answered any new questions, so I think it is safe to assume that I haven’t changed. That means that as a whole, OkCupid users in general must have changed. You guys suck. You are becoming less compassionate and less pure. Soon you will all be kicking puppies and slaugtering little old ladies while dressed up as furries. Yiff! You should be ashamed of yourself. Seriously, what are you thinking?

Normally I wouldn’t mind. But as you become less compassionate and less pure, you are making me look more pure and more compassionate. And that makes me seem all girly. And I hate that. And I’m not girly (or pure or compassionate). If you all keep making me look girly, I will be forced to acquire a love of shopping and start thinking math is hard. Ewww…