And the Flags Were all Dead at the Tops of their Poles

It's strange how a song can put you in the mood to write.
I'm listening to one that does that for me.  It's referenced in the title here.  It's called "The Dead Flag Blues," by Godspeed You! Black Emperor.

Godspeed and I go back about four or five years.  I can't remember where I heard them first, honestly.  I do know that initially, much like now, I found the name of the group obnoxious, which apparently was a trend of theirs, with their associated bands A Silver Mt Zion (which has even stupider previous names) and HṚṢṬA (yes with the dots),Set Fire to Flames, and Fly Pan Am.  Regardless, these groups have grown on me, and I find them to be some of the most poignant music I can listen to now.  It's so haunting and full of emotion.  I made a Pandora station if you'd like to hear what I listen to when I need to escape.  It's here for your enjoyment.  Because Pandora keeps trying to force other irrelevant music on me, there is some other stuff that comes up, but most of it is pure postrock pleasure. 

So far living alone has been difficult.  I'm lonely, but I find myself not wanting to remedy that at all.  I sleep on the floor, on a thin bedroll, and have sheets I kind of use, as well as a pillow.  I told myself that I'd buy a bed when I closed my first case.  I just did a will for a friend, but I don't think that counts.

I think this is going to be one of those ones where I cut off for no reason suddenly.  Don't feel like writing anymore.  I'll try again tomorrow. 

Take a Load off, Jürgen

I'm sitting here watching the US play Honduras in the Gold Cup.  We're playing well and winning 3-1, but seeing as how it's basically a Junior Varsity tournament, it's hard to draw too much from that.  I'd say that our roster has some good depth.  Hah!  Jürgen Klinsmann was just dismissed from the game.  He won't be able to coach the final as well.  That's pretty crazy.

I'm pretty excited about NBC showing all of the EPL games this season.  Now if only someone would pick up the Bundesliga.

I spent most of today trying to draft engagement letter and billing templates.  It's very difficult, as I'm not entirely sure what should go into them, and I can't seem to draft anything that I think sounds not idiotic.  The trick is to make sure you cover your own ass well enough in case the client sues, doesn't pay, or strings you along.  It's a delicate balancing act, also, because you don't want your billing statements to sound too dickish as well.

It's just frustrating, because it's hard to stay focused and motivated throughout the day.  I think I need my own place with a proper desk and white noise playing over a loudspeaker.  That or better ADHD meds.

I'm still not entirely sure what in the hell I'm doing with this law practice stuff.  This isn't for me.  Ugh.  Oh if only I could go back to undergraduate and make myself study something else and study more!

I met up with a friend yesterday.  It was really a breath of fresh air.  I'll refrain from going on about it, but but she was very uplifting.  Some people can do that just by being.  Good stuff.

My Greatest Fear

My greatest fear is that I will be unable to pay back my parents for all of the support they have given me throughout the years.

The Reign of the Wit

When I was eighteen years old, I made a list of things that I expected to have done by age thirty.  They were optimistic, but at the time, the world was a big, bright, enticing place, and I was a wide-eyed naive boy ready to conquer it all.  I remember, still, most of the items on that list:  to fluently speak four languages; to be a cardiologist; to be married to a beautiful woman; to have cute, smart children; to be physically fit and still play soccer; to travel and have traveled.  I pictured myself as this much wiser, calmer, astute version of my then-self.  More adult, I suppose.

I have guess I have disappointed myself.

The world's vibrancy and potential waned as the path I'd chosen took unexpected turns.  Endeavors failed. Friends and loved ones died.  Promises weren't kept.  Mistakes were made. . . and made again . . . and the uncertainty and confusion that had begun to creep up on me in my late teens only amplified, slowly building from a hesitant whisper into a steady, rebuking chant.  As the stakes grew higher-- debt, obligations, and responsibilities-- not only did the uncertainties echo louder and louder in my mind, but the inner criticisms added their refrains to the opus.  With each passing year, the composition continues its crescendo, with no indication of stopping.

I don't pretend that the regret and disappointment that I feel is vastly different from that of others, whom I'm sure experience similar feelings when they have reached thirty.  I remember back to the "Baz Luhrmann" bit from when I was in high school, "Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)," where the narrator says "Don't feel guilty if you don't know what you want to do with your life.  The most interesting people I know didn't know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives; some of the most interesting forty year olds still don't."  Well I guess I am interesting, according to Baz.

I've just started my own law practice.  I almost get embarrassed calling it such. . . it's just me and a laptop and some books.  I'm eager to prove myself and make this into a business, but at the same time, I know that deep down, I have no interest in practicing law, and find it boring and uninteresting.  So what am I do to with myself?  I guess that's the question.  I'm stuck in something of a Catch-22.  I would like to do something else with myself (I have no idea what), but I have such staggering student loan debt, that the only option is to . . . practice law.  I'd like to lash out at my law Alma Mater for misleading us on our job prospects.  I'd like to lash out at the government for providing easy access to loans, and again at the school for jacking up tuition over and over again for no reason.  I'd like to lash out at the boomers for drilling us into thinking that we had to go to these overpriced institutions or else we'd be losers.  But mostly I just blame myself.  I should have known what I was getting into.  I should have done better.

I hope that some day I will not regret having gotten my law degree.

I'm hoping that some day I will look back at today and smile at the clueless SOB who wrote this diatribe about his life.  I'm hoping that a wiser, calmer, more astute version of myself will have assuaged the cacophony of uncertainty and regret, and will take a moment to congratulate himself on his accomplishments, having seen how dismal it all seemed so long ago.  Funny, that's how I felt when I was eighteen.  Funny.