Always be prepared
WARNING: Rambly and anxious with a tendency to catastrophize.
As the world knows by now, I don't really want to be a lawyer. And with graduation fast-ish approaching, the question of articling keeps coming up time and again and again and again. There are no more buffer years to protect me from thinking about it anymore: am I going to be a lawyer? Well, I don't want to be. Even for a little bit? No, not really. There's lots of talk about just getting articling over it and being called to the bar and getting to say I'm a lawyer, not just a former law student. That all makes fine and dandy sense. I probably should. I need to pay off the debt, and get out of this house, and if anything, it'll strengthen my character or something (I figure a year of misery will at least do that).
And then I go to a Tuesday night lecture hosted by Chuck Klosterman at the newly-seated, nicely-designed-postered Norm Theatre. And he talks about how he got his first job, and his second job, and how he wrote his book. And he's funny and opinionated and seems genuinely excited and interested in what he does and how he does it.
I manage to fall asleep convincing myself that my life doesn't end with articling and that I, too, can be Chuck Klosterman after I article. I've got time. I've got tiiiiiiiiiiiiime, right?
And then TBW points me to the Editor's Letter of this month's Dwell magazine (that is some good periodical ish), where he describes how the now Editor-in-Chief was unemployed, then applied to a job on craiglist for an "editorial assitant for a design and architecture magazine", and how every moment of the last 6 years at Dwell have been awesome and interesting and life-changing and growing. How working at Dwell wasn't just a job, it was the job, the dream job.
Well yay you people who chose the right profession and have succeeded. Yay you and bully for me. Basically, it all seems to boil down to luck and circumstances and timing. And preparation. As it turns out, I've spent the last 3 years knowingly preparing myself for something I don't want to do. So now what? Switch to something new or play the wilful blindness card and persist for a little while? Give law another chance? That is the question, and has been the question for the last three years. Except now, I really need to answer it. Sort of. Or at least temporarily answer it. Fick.
PS. I want this table by Olivier Droillard real bad:
As the world knows by now, I don't really want to be a lawyer. And with graduation fast-ish approaching, the question of articling keeps coming up time and again and again and again. There are no more buffer years to protect me from thinking about it anymore: am I going to be a lawyer? Well, I don't want to be. Even for a little bit? No, not really. There's lots of talk about just getting articling over it and being called to the bar and getting to say I'm a lawyer, not just a former law student. That all makes fine and dandy sense. I probably should. I need to pay off the debt, and get out of this house, and if anything, it'll strengthen my character or something (I figure a year of misery will at least do that).
And then I go to a Tuesday night lecture hosted by Chuck Klosterman at the newly-seated, nicely-designed-postered Norm Theatre. And he talks about how he got his first job, and his second job, and how he wrote his book. And he's funny and opinionated and seems genuinely excited and interested in what he does and how he does it.
I manage to fall asleep convincing myself that my life doesn't end with articling and that I, too, can be Chuck Klosterman after I article. I've got time. I've got tiiiiiiiiiiiiime, right?
And then TBW points me to the Editor's Letter of this month's Dwell magazine (that is some good periodical ish), where he describes how the now Editor-in-Chief was unemployed, then applied to a job on craiglist for an "editorial assitant for a design and architecture magazine", and how every moment of the last 6 years at Dwell have been awesome and interesting and life-changing and growing. How working at Dwell wasn't just a job, it was the job, the dream job.
Well yay you people who chose the right profession and have succeeded. Yay you and bully for me. Basically, it all seems to boil down to luck and circumstances and timing. And preparation. As it turns out, I've spent the last 3 years knowingly preparing myself for something I don't want to do. So now what? Switch to something new or play the wilful blindness card and persist for a little while? Give law another chance? That is the question, and has been the question for the last three years. Except now, I really need to answer it. Sort of. Or at least temporarily answer it. Fick.
PS. I want this table by Olivier Droillard real bad:
posted by Sharon at 8:39 p.m.
2 Comments:
I always tell people not to do jobs that they don't want to do. This includes you...but I don't know if taking advice from random folks on the internet is what you want to do either.
Taking advice from Kari is very different from taking advice from random folks on the internet. Plus, I have it from a very good authority that Kari = awesome. And you make costumes for a living, so your career advice is more sound than most.
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