I’ve been thinking about what I’m going to do for a living, you know, when I grow up. And, it’s getting about that time, because the clock is only moving forward. Sucks. My father called and talked with me about when I was planning to go to law school. I didn’t have any answers. Here’s the crux– I know I want to be a lawyer, I just don’t want to go to law school. From what I’ve read, for most it’s the other way around. I’ve just really enjoyed having time off to, if you will, chillax. Or, if you prefer, “chilling out, maxing, and relaxing all cool.” For instance, I’ve been able to work out and eat healthy, spend time talking with friends, and actually have a relationship with my partner. Bonus? My blood pressure is no longer elevated and I just plain old look better. The sallow skin look just isn’t for me. That late night look– I ain’t slept in a couple days ‘cus it’s finals week– isn’t for me. I’m neither a zombie IRL, nor do I eat brains. BRRRAAAAAIINISSSS.
So, what do I do, then? Well, it sounds like I’ll get a job for a bit. I’d enjoy that immensely, because most jobs provide this thing called money. Handy stuff, that is. I hear they give you even more after a college degree, so let’s hope that’s not a nasty rumor. It’d be good for my health, my partner, and paying for electrolysis. And, not gonna lie, I want that electrolysis like woah. This means law school would have to be put off. The only problem is being a 30 year old lawyer. Pass on that?
My partner keeps harping on how old I am. I’m ancient, I’m robbing the cradle, etc. I know she’s kidding, particularly when I’m only four months older than her, but I do feel like I should’ve accomplished more with my life by this point. Sir Isaac Newton developed calculus by this point in his life, and Tupac had already recorded All Eyez on Me. What have I done? Neither math(s) nor rap(s).
My father gets insulted when I talk about feeling older. I don’t blame him, he’s not exactly in his 20s. The good news about getting older is that my concept of old grows with me. At five I thought anyone over the age of 13 was an adult; people past that magic number were flavors of the same vague genre of authority. Then, when I was 16, I figured there was no point living past 40. Kind of like Logan’s Run, gotta shuttle myself off to carousel. Ugh, what a horrible movie. Now I just turned 27 and… I dunno, old is now 65 and over. I think my concept of old is growing even faster than I am. Sweet. Maybe I’ll never be old in my eyes?
So, I’ll go to law school next year. I mean it. Just go ahead and watch me; I’ll use the lessons yesterday has taught me.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about the kind of law I’d like to practice. What I’d really like to go into is public interest law benefitting the trans community. There are a few problems with that, though. I mean, it doesn’t pay well, it’s announcing with a bull horn I’m trans (i.e. I’ll always be out), and I worry it’d be stigmatizing to not just me, but my family. Right now, I’m on the fence. Nice platitudes always make it sound simple; wanna be xyz, then do it! Be the dream. Find your bliss. Do what you love. Yeah, okay Tony Robbins, but what about when my bliss conflicts with the rest of my life outside of work? I think that’s the problem a lot of us run into.
The other option is to embrace environmental law. I’d be good at it, and I already know a fair amount about the subject. With my degree in “the environment and stuff,” the reading I’ve done on the subject, and my personal experience, I think I could do very well. Add to that, the idea of fighting for those who don’t have a voice is appealing. Sure, some people aren’t heard in society, but trees can’t talk at all. You can quote me on that. Plus, it’d be nice to show that trans people can be successful in other avenues of society. It seems right now we’re bunched up in activism and comp sci. Or, more commonly, stealth.
But, you know, I actually find trans activism appealing, it’s what I want to do. We’ll see.
I think that’s all for now. It’s Saturday morning and I’m rocking my bagel and cappuccino. I’m a pretty good speller, but coffee drinks? That’s spelling extreme mode. I just can’t handle it.