The natural man and his cudgel
Yesterday I had a religious experience. I was at Big 5 Sports in east Ballard, shopping for running shoes and cleats. Cleats for the softball game I played tonight, running shoes for my newest fitness plan designed to turn my body into a weapon in anticipation of my eventual graduation and subsequent 2 month excursion to the tropical paradise of
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1) After law school one desperately needs a break
2) As soon as you start work you're going to be raking in scads of cash (hopefully), and
3) By taking a job with a firm somewhere you've mortgaged your soul for the next seven years minimum, and once you become a partner (final sale on the soul), chances are you won't have an opportunity to take two months to yourself again before you retire. So do it while you're young.
I currently don't have a job lined up--I have reservations about my tropical adventure without condition 2) being assured, but, surprisingly (at least to me) my father of all people is suggesting I go regardless of my employment situation. He never did, you see: A week after he graduated he was driving an old dodge dart across the country to beg for work in Seattle, and mom joined him six months later when she graduated. The two of them got married and went straight to work: no honeymoon, no nothing. I'm pretty sure he regrets not taking a little time off before burying himself. So if he wants to help finance one last fling around the world, well, I ain't gonna say no.
My parents are cool.
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