Inadequacy

09:54, 19 May 2003

Yesterday was Piyush's graduation. I felt totally weird because such things are family events-- who the fuck am I to be there? The two-month old girlfriend. Nobody. I felt extra. At least M.J. was there so I had someone else to be extra with. She really is fun; I hope we are good friends next year.

Graduation was good. The L.L.M. commencement dinner was good. Going out afterwards was not good. It was one of those "bad karma" nights-- a night when everyone should have just gone to bed. Piyush was tired and stressed trying to entertain everyone. I was annoying myself with my "needy girlfriend" mood. I guess I just wanted some attention, but I ended up being sad and feigning stoicism, you know: smoking a cigarette and staring off as if I was lost in thought... stupid stupid stupid retard. Just what Piyush needed, right? An infant tugging on his sleeve.

Of course, I talked to anyone that would listen about how much I like Piyush and how I wish he would tell me what he feels. And everyone said the same thing: talk to him about it, have a serious discussion where you tell him how you feel. Ha. Like I'm going to do that. Please. I can't even have a serious discussion with myself about how I feel. And I'm so afraid. This is such a boring topic right now because I'm just so annoyed with myself and my neediness and how I'm such a pain in Piyush's ass. I hope he's not mad at me.

Right now, though, I want to vomit. I just met with my "boss" for the summer, the appellate lawyer for whom I'm working. He gave me this huge 7th circuit case that I have to brief by Friday so he can write his argument by May 30. Then I have to fly to Chicago with him and help him with last-minute details of adjusting the argument during trial, etc. God, I am practically crying right now with inadequacy. I am so not good enough for this. I am so overwhelmed, over my head, clueless as to how to begin or what to do. I want to do such a good job but I don't even know how. I can't brief a 7th Circuit case! Holy shit! This prisoner is relying on this appeal and little does he know that this hapless, nauseous idiot is shouldering a large portion of his case. How did I end up here? Who thought I could do this? I sat there getting my assignment, nodding and taking notes and looking, for all intents and purposes, like I had all my ducks in a row. My ducks, my ducks, they're flying all over the place. My ducks are roasted with orange sauce and I am completely incapable.

Now I have to call Piyush and wake him up and I'm a totally idiotic girlfriend as well. Sigh.

When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?