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ravenWell. Well, you guys, it's been five years and it's been so much work and it's been so much crying, but this is it: I am a qualified lawyer now.
(Around mid-afternoon a whole bunch of people I like congregated around my desk unexpectedly, and after a bit my supervisor emerged from his office with a wrapped wedding present and card for me. He had been asked to make a presentation speech, he said. I may have said before that as well as being the gentlest human being on this earth he's also the shyest person I know who has ever got up to address the Court of Appeal. After some throat-clearing, he said, "Iona is very calm about qualification and very calm about her wedding. She has been very calm when faced with sinking fishing boats and people threatening to shoot each other and court ushers urinating in public. She is a very calm litigator."
I said, "Thank you", unwrapped my presents and got covered in glitter and tried not to cry and realised I wasn't wearing any shoes and then got flustered and had to sit down for a while after that.
(I had a job interview today, as well; when asked I said, "I am a litigator" - and my interviewer grinned, hissed and made the sign of the cross, and I laughed a lot. This is who I am; this is mine. )
Real life resumes on Monday. In the meantime, tomorrow I sleep in, go for a walk in the sunshine, write stories. If you would like a story, and I hope you would, leave me a prompt. Clichés, tropes and AUs a plus. Or name a character and I'll tell you about their fears/dysfunctions/hang-ups. Or something they did that took five years and more hard work than they thought possible, but somehow, here they are - here they are.
(Around mid-afternoon a whole bunch of people I like congregated around my desk unexpectedly, and after a bit my supervisor emerged from his office with a wrapped wedding present and card for me. He had been asked to make a presentation speech, he said. I may have said before that as well as being the gentlest human being on this earth he's also the shyest person I know who has ever got up to address the Court of Appeal. After some throat-clearing, he said, "Iona is very calm about qualification and very calm about her wedding. She has been very calm when faced with sinking fishing boats and people threatening to shoot each other and court ushers urinating in public. She is a very calm litigator."
I said, "Thank you", unwrapped my presents and got covered in glitter and tried not to cry and realised I wasn't wearing any shoes and then got flustered and had to sit down for a while after that.
(I had a job interview today, as well; when asked I said, "I am a litigator" - and my interviewer grinned, hissed and made the sign of the cross, and I laughed a lot. This is who I am; this is mine. )
Real life resumes on Monday. In the meantime, tomorrow I sleep in, go for a walk in the sunshine, write stories. If you would like a story, and I hope you would, leave me a prompt. Clichés, tropes and AUs a plus. Or name a character and I'll tell you about their fears/dysfunctions/hang-ups. Or something they did that took five years and more hard work than they thought possible, but somehow, here they are - here they are.
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on 2013-09-05 05:26 pm (UTC)How about crossovers? CJ Cregg's meeting with Margaret Houlihan?
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on 2013-09-05 05:29 pm (UTC)If you would like, you can write me something about Carlos and Cecil and/or Dana, and weather - actual weather, although Night Vale interpretations of weather may sneak in as you wish.
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on 2013-09-05 05:47 pm (UTC)I would also like some sort of fic or meta which explains to me what's so great about Night Vale. I've listened to the first three episodes, and I can see that they're well made; but I feel overwhelmed by a wealth of detail and also like I'm missing something. Am I missing something?
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on 2013-09-05 06:07 pm (UTC)Excellent. :D And congratulations!
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on 2013-09-05 06:22 pm (UTC)Can I tempt you with something that took Nightingale five years and a lot of hard work to achieve?
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on 2013-09-05 07:57 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-05 08:14 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-05 08:19 pm (UTC)Oh, also, Nightingale's hangups/fears please, should you feel inclined.
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on 2013-09-05 10:24 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-05 11:45 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-05 11:57 pm (UTC)And, predictably, tell me something about Nightingale?
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on 2013-09-06 06:07 am (UTC)and oh yes, a story! something M*A*S*H if you feel so inclined, something with drinking in.
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on 2013-09-06 07:06 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-06 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-06 09:29 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-06 09:30 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-06 09:30 am (UTC)no subject
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on 2013-09-06 09:31 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-06 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-06 04:25 pm (UTC)Round about the time CJ realised she was going to be White House press secretary for a president who, in the best-case scenario, was going to be censured by Congress or, at worst, be impeached, she took up smoking again, stealing her cigarettes from Bonnie and finally giving up and buying her own. She hid them in her purse for a while then stopped doing that - they're all in this together, waiting for the fall.
She's outside now, smoking efficiently, looking out at the smoggy sky when she hears the rattle of the door beside her. She says, "Toby, I will be back in five minutes, okay" - which isn't all that professional, and she can't quite remember the whole long name of the benefit they're at, something about honouring DC community organisers or some kind of thing and that's not very professional either, but neither is lying to the whole electorate and your senior staff. CJ didn't get any sleep last night.
"Sorry," says a warm, low, definitely female voice. "I'm not who you wanted."
CJ turns around and breathes out apology. "Sorry, I didn't mean - I didn't really want it to be Toby, anyway."
The woman laughs and comes closer, and she's maybe seventy-five years old and she is, CJ realises, entirely too late, one of the community organisers they're here to honour. CJ is opening her mouth to apologise again, and this time do it better, when the woman says: "Can I have one of those?"
CJ blinks and hands over the cigarette. "Sure, uh..."
It's too dark to read the name badge. The woman lights up, and holds out her hand. "Margaret Houlihan. Call me Margaret. And you are?"
"CJ," CJ says, "Claudia Jean, actually" - and wonders why she feels the need to clarify. "Ah, I'm..."
"The White House press secretary," Margaret says calmly, "but not right now, not unless there are reporters with long lenses in the bushes that I don't know about. I'd say it's a nice night out, but it's never a nice night out in DC."
CJ, surprising herself, laughs. "I've just had a bad day. Maybe a bad week."
"Or month, or year." Margaret nods. "I know the feeling."
"Yeah." CJ sighs and lights another cigarette, blowing smoke upwards to join the rest of the smog. The salient information from her own briefing is coming back to her, slowly, and she turns. "You had lots of nights out in DC, didn't you."
Margaret laughs. "I wish it was as fun as that makes it sound. I was out on the Mall, and that was the winter."
And the summer, CJ remembers, and the spring in between - holding those banners, Say Yes to the ERA. "That must have been... hard," she says, a little uselessly.
Margaret nods. "Hard, worth doing, and ultimately pointless, as all the best things in life are."
CJ sighs, thinking of what her job is going to entail from now on. "Yeah."
"I should be getting back inside," Margaret says, gently. "Thank you for the cigarette, Ms. Cregg. Professionally speaking, of course you should give up as soon as possible, and I could show you a slideshow of your alveoli, but I don't happen to have it to hand."
"Professionally speaking..." CJ begins, and Margaret grins.
"What's a community organiser, anyway," she says, "isn't that what we all do, if we're worth anything. I'm a nurse, Ms. Cregg. These days, more of a midwife."
"A midwife?" CJ repeats, again feeling useless and tired.
"Some things take longer to be born than others," Margaret says, and smiles, softly. "Good luck."
She turns around and goes back inside, taking slow, deliberate steps. CJ reaches into her purse and puts the packet of cigarettes away. It's time to go back and start doing whatever it is they need to do, now, next, and going on.
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on 2013-09-06 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-07 12:03 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-07 12:04 am (UTC)no subject
on 2013-09-07 12:04 am (UTC)