Sands keep on Sifting Down

So, I attended a little swaray held over the weekend by one of my new young college friends. I spent most Saturday in the library getting ready for Monday, then off to celebrate with a case of Guinness and some camaraderie.

Sunday morning, I awoke feeling of death and surrounded by the torn husks of a nearly empty White Castle crave case. My memory of the evening was sharp, and disappointing. Last alcoholic beverage consumed by me was around 3:00 AM on Sunday morning. I was the oldest person there, the first to arrive and the last to leave.

Putting my several faux paus aside, I watched the local football team lose horrendously to an indifferent opposition. They had given millions of dollars to a man who had exceeded his shelf life by almost a decade. I really felt for the guy as he threw interception after interception.

Watching abysmal football made me think about my own career choices. I had a steady job as a state civil servant. It would have been nearly impossible to get fired from it, save riding into work on a stripper's bare back whilst fumbling for vials of cocaine from her sweaty, soulless wisps of over peroxided hair, sans clothing. But I digress.

My job wasn't terrible. I worked for people who were nice enough. The workload was manageable in an 8-5 day and I had a good support network of friends in town. Now I am here, hanging out with 22 year-olds, drinking way to much and spouting my philosophies on life to complete strangers. I am going to school to pursue a career that is iffy at best, provided I do not fall into one of those sinkholes like misappropriating client funds or 'really' developing my borderline alcoholism into a career.

I get at least two emails a day lauding the events happening at school. Networking is key to landing a job in the legal field, they all say. But I wonder, isn't networking the key to landing any kind of job? Do I really want to go another $100K in debt for the possibility of humiliating myself in front of a judge on a daily basis, or worse, spending real time in a federal pound-you-in-the-ass prison for a little slip up that wouldn't make an Illinois politician bat an eye?

I have been telling myself all day, as I stumble through the last effects of a two day hangover and the beginnings of a long week of classes, that everything will work out and life will reward what I have put into it. Then I think, there's some guy working as a file clerk with the same aspirations as me and the same shot at realizing them from the comfort of a desk and union backing.

Meh. I'll change my mind in a week or two and once again be lost in the glamour of uncertain financial future. Right now, the only idea that comes to my mind is "judgment proof". Sounds like a promising career in the making.