| esquire within |

Esquiring minds.

I'm leaving the office early today to head over to BC Law.  One of my old professors, who taught my litigation clinical course, asked me to join a panel of guest lecturers on "nontraditional career paths after law school" and "staying nimble in a unfriendly legal market."

If by "nimble," she meant "bitter and causticly sarcastic," then I'm the perfect man for the job.  Somehow I don't think that she did.  Although, I suppose maybe I fit in the "untraditional" category, in that most people who take on horrendous educational debt to attend law school actually want to practice law. 

I appreciate and am vaguely flattered about being asked to speak on my experiences, but seriously, I feel like I'm the last person who should be addressing a group of law students.  I hate lawyering.  I never intended to be a lawyer,  I just sort of fell into it -- under protest -- after trying (unsuccessfully) to land a domestic/foreign policy job with my allegedly versatile Juris Doctor.  I am working hard to build my consulting work, which I find entirely more stimulating, and would trade litigation work -- which I consider an evil to be tolerated only so long as absolutely necessary -- for a non-legal job in a heartbeat.

Well, I guess that's not all entirely true.  I hate litigating, which isn't quite the same as hating lawyering.  There are plenty of policy counsel positions out there I'd be perfectly happy to fill.  (Are you listening, State Department?)

Anyway.  At least I'll see some sun today on the drive to campus.

At the intersection of Conjunctive and Gross.

So the good news is, I don't have strep throat. 

The bad news is, conjunctivitis has absolutely nothing to do with grammar.  

Twenty-seven years.  I made it twenty-seven years without dealing with what should otherwise be relegated to the world of snot-nosed kids who don't wash their hands and play in dirt and dog poop.  Unless the Girl is secretly and vindictively farting in my pillowcase, there's no reason I should have woken up with a pink eye full of nastiness.

Awesome.

The weather isn't helping.  Grey, cold, wet -- basically all we have to look forward to until June.  Boston would be so much better if it were 800 miles to the south, where winters aren't nine months long.  (One more of a host of reasons to pack up and move to DC.)  At least I have no reason to go outside today, other than to pick up some eye drops from the pharmacy.  Although the couch is particularly inviting, I've got to buckle down on a project for the Parliament today, since we're going to the International Seafood Expo tomorrow -- goopy eye permitting, of course.

Sunday afternoon.

Foreground: Parliament project. Niwano project. Taxes. Paperwork. Cleaning. Boston and DC applications.

Background: Laundry. Correspondence Battleship (by Model N -- worth buying).

We opted for a walk to Ball Square Cafe (for the best breakfast sandwich this side of the Charles) rather than hit the gym.  Eggs, sausage and cheese beats the bench press every time.  And I wonder why I the only six-pack I have is the drinkable variety.

Despite high ambitions and the best of intentions, yesterday was a bust (except for Alice in Wonderland, which was good, but somewhat disappointing -- I think I was hoping for a little bit darker and a little less Disney.)  Today, I'm going to be productive.  I have a lot on my plate right now, and with this contract job at Big Firm downtown, I need to get these peripheral items wrapped up.  Or, at the very least, make a legitimate effort in that direction.

Meanwhile, it's sunny and warm and beguilingly springish outside, which invariably means the sleet and snow are on the way.

Back on the wagon.

So the good news is, I'm carving a living out of contracting.  With two nonprofit communications/consulting projects (one bigger, one smaller) and a new full-time (if temporary) contract with one of Boston's biggest law firms, I'm officially keeping my head above water.  It'd be nice to focus on one permanent position, but I don't have that luxury -- and beggars can't be choosers.  At least I'll be busy.  I'm so much more effective when I'm busy; things have a way of not getting done when I'm not utterly maxed out.  The double-edged blade of Cornell's OCAAT.

Overheard in the walk-in closet.

Derek: Um, babe?  Why is there a photo of Mario Lopez on the dresser?

The Girl: Because I like having pictures of you around, sweetie.

Derek: .....

Seasonal.

Have you noticed a serious mood change as the temperature drops? Are you sleeping more? Feeling lethargic? Craving sweets and starchy foods?

Have you stepped on a kitten in the last four weeks?

No?  Just me?

Sigh.

Yesterday I was completely worthless.  Pinched a nerve in my neck and was feeling six kinds of cranky -- pretty much all day. I think sometimes Boston makes me feel stir crazy. A lot of my law school friends have moved to other climes, and of course none of my Cornell family are close enough for a day trip (at least, not until I buy my own helicopter). There are a lot of people I miss seeing on a regular basis.

Also, it's miserably cold and grey. Not quite Iowa Cold, but pretty freaking close. I'm a child of summer, so New England tends to get to me after Christmas. A week on the beach would probably do wonders.

So we're sitting at the Starbucks in Davis Square -- borrowing internet from Diesel Cafe across the street.  Frankly, I'd rather be over there, but it's usually too crowded with yuppie wannabes hogging booths.  That and a scarcity of electrical outlets makes it better in theory than in practice.  We did, however, manage to snag seats right next to the fireplace, so I can't really complain.

Nevermind, I lied.  I can complain.  About the sorority chick next to us who's been on her cell for the last ten minutes discussing dieting and dress codes for pledging.

Shoot me.

Anyway, today I've resolved to make headway on my new project for the Tokyo-based Niwano Peace Foundation. It's one of those things that'll be great once I get some momentum. I always hate the beginning.