A Little Whine with My Esq.

You know what bothers me the most about myself? It's not the fact that I've become what I consider to be a heffer since my first year in law school. It's not even the fact that I haven't been able to gain a permanent associate position since passing the Bar in 2008. It's the way I freak out when my partner says anything to me.

It's ridiculous. I'm ridiculous. In my own defense, the first several times Big P approached me, it's resulted in quizzing me on my knowledge of the law, late night research assignments, and stress to carry over my weekend. So whenever Big P wanders over in my direction, my heart starts to freak out. I hold my breath - please, please, please don't ask me anything!

An example to illustrate what a freak I've become, Big P asks me what I was eating for lunch in the breakroom. I literally had to stare at my food for a good 3 seconds to think of the smartest way to answer him. I'm always walking on egg shells to make sure I don't trigger a research assignment. I said, "Sausage," like a caveman. One word. Simple. He asked about my caramalized onions, how I prepare the dish, etc. Normally, this conversation would not be stressful, but the fact that Big P was talking to me at all was a big deal.

It was like the time I ran into Gavin Newsome. Mr. O was shaking his hand, chatting. Me, I stood there, frozen and embarrassing. Mr. O gestures to me to shake the Man's hand (Man, instead of man because I have a secret crush on him). Instead of reaching out for his delicious hand, I stood there, speechless.

I frustrate myself. I don't know why I just can't relax! I have to remind myself to chillax. The good news, nothing to complain about from my lunch encounter with Big P. Surprisingly, nothing came out of our sausage convo. Score!