Looking Back

The fall of 1999 was very busy for me: I'd gone through the 2L recruiting process, had landed my BIGLAW summer job, and was working about 25 hours a week at a venture capital firm.  I was running a lot and taking karate classes.  I was extremely focused on the business world and my own success within it.  I was recently out of a four-year relationship and was delighted to be free and unencumbered, thinking in a playful but skittish way about dating again.  I was ambitious and deeply selfish and smug.  I was lonely, too, but didn't acknowledge it often. 

I'm going through my old journals, mapping out some themes.  Reading the one from the fall of 1999, I find myself cringing a lot.  The smugness is the worst.  Maybe because I'm so far from smug these days. 

The narrator of that journal from 1999 revels in being talented and marked for success.  She is reasonably well-connected and looking to become even better connected, networking and name-dropping and studying people who she thinks are successful.  She had no doubt about the establishment and the heirarchy and her rightful place within it.  She was thinner than I've ever been since and wore short skirts and speculated about whether particular men were worthy.  She mapped out her ambitious but realistic 1 year, 5 year, and 10 year financial, professional, and personal goals.  It's pretty excruciating for me to read.  So much of it was about external approval. 

It has me thinking about certainty.  At a friend's house last night I was talking about this flailing effort to try to publish my writing.  My eyes got teary when I talked about my confusion and doubt and frustration, how I struggle with shame when people I don't know very well ask me how the practice of law is going or what I'm up to and I wonder if they'll think I'm a hack or a flake when I tell them I'm not working as a lawyer anymore and am trying to write.  But I do feel like I'm on my life's path, I said, even though as a path it's overgrown and prickly and it kind of sucks, it's the one I'm supposed to be on and I kind of feel like now that I know that I don't have much of a choice.  And, actually, I'm glad to be on it, even though I'm doing battle with a lot of inner demons to stay here.  And my friend's eyes got teary.  Do you know how few people ever find that, she said?  Do you know how few people even look?  You are so brave. 

My 1999 self was prolific in this journal -- it's more dense than the other volumes, each entry spanning pages and pages.  She admits in a couple of places to being overwhelmed and unhappy.  She admits to wanting to be a writer but concludes that it's too late, she's too far down the road she's on, so that childish dream must be left behind.  And then she's off, writing about something she read in Fast Company and making to-do lists. 

Comments

[CM]

I think your friend's right -- some of the people you tell you're a writer might think, "what a flake," but I bet many think, "I wish I had the guts to do something like that."

Do you still keep a written journal, or just your blogs?

[Al Wheeler]

That was an excellent post. The ending kind of sneaks up on you.

[TP]

This is why I read this blog.

[Bobby]

You made the right decision when you chose to be a writer. We do need attorneys to guide people who've hit hard times toward a fresh financial start. While I'm sure you did that well,I don't believe that was your primary gift. We need people to provoke us to think, to teach us to be more empathic, to teach us humility and to teach us about the strength of human weakness. Often the best way to do that is through story telling, and you've demonstrated you can do that.

What you're feeling when people ask what you're doing is quite natural. I often feel small after I've read the Alumni Magazine class notes. And you've also apparently gone through some emotional trials recently. I'm sure that's been hard, but you've shown a lot of humility.

I ask you to please persevere. If not for yourself, then for those you will inspire.

[shell]

You only live once. Do what your instinct tells you.

Having the ability to imagine is a gift, one which you possesses.

I've enjoyed reading your entries for the past 1/2 year. Oh how you've conjured vivid imageries of the seasons and nature... You've taken me to the colorful world I've not seen since childhood.

You not only write words, you also inspire creativity. I hope you'll find the strength to continue your writing.