Yesterday, I attended the LACBA’s annual wage and hour symposium, and the first thing that struck me was the amount of lawyers who showed up the millennium Biltmore, but more than that, how almost all of them dressed alike. Men in suits, and he women in business outfits with some calves showing and business appropriate beige or black low heels. A majority of them with the obligatory iPhone/blackberry, and/or laptop, the low light of the devices making it feel as I was on Krypton. Of course, there were some outliers. One wore a Hawaiian shirt, and another came with a hat, suspenders on blue jeans. I was in the middle, no jacket, business shirt with no collars and almost too tight pants (that’s what I get for eating all the chocolate I can at night). The glow of the devices filled the darkened conference room, and I only felt one feeling: Glad.
I am glad, I don’t work as a lawyer. I am glad that I am not in uniform. I am glad that I don’t have to report for duty. Yet, there was a nagging feel that perhaps, just perhaps, I was missing something. And then it hit me that I missed law school. The camaraderie, the kosher food with my friend Elias, and the nick name “The Three Wise Men” that was given to us by our class mates. Well, I was Indian, my best friend was black, and the third was an orthodox Jew. We made quite an impression when we walked the aisles. Yet it was more than that. I missed knowing the law as an intellectual exercise, but more so I regret never getting actual practice at a law firm. So I know why I was looking down at the attorneys now, I was preempting my insecurity before it got the best of me. In some ways, I couldn’t help thinking that they were REAL attorneys while I played one at my business.
Yet as my best friend pointed out, I am selling myself short. I know the basics, and been around issues at my workplace to have a good grasp of employment law as it relates to my industry. The nagging feeling left after I finished the conference, but I can’t help feeling that I missed out on some parts of being an attorney. My only consolation now is that I can learn as needed, and I don’t have to punch a clock. Some days, that has to be enough.
- Who You Gonna Call? (thefstudent.com)
I talk too much. I post too much. I tend to do everything too much that pleases me, and when I do something that pleases me, I like to share it. I never thought much about how it affects other people. I just know how I feel, and when something moves me, I like to forward it to people who I think would benefit from me. A friend of mine advised that perhaps of just blindly forwarding, I explain why I am forwarding to that particular person, because to some it may just look like over sharing. I know I am struggling with things personally, and I have an inkling that others are too. I just read something that hit me, we are all bozos on a bus. We all pretend that we are OK when we talk to each other, saving our real feelings only for a few or none. I lived that life, and it got me an unhappy life.
Yet, my friend has a point. If I quietly forward an email or share on Facebook, what will that person get out of it? I guess I am afraid of offending them. “Does he really think I need help with exercise?” or “Who does he think he is telling me about depression.” I create their response in my head and so I forward in silence because I am too afraid to really tell the person what I feel. It’s also because I am afraid of being rejected if I reach out to the person. Or it could be that I have this tendency to want to tell people how to live their lives.
I don’t know when I became so afraid when before I would blurt out whatever came to my head. That also got me in trouble because I usually ended up revealing something about someone that probably shouldn’t have been shared. That’s been my problem my whole life. I either over share, don’t share enough, or not at all. I am struggling with my own thoughts and feelings on a constant basis. I realize how whiny this post may seem to some, but I’d rather share than err on the side of not really being myself. So you’re gonna have to bear with me while I share because I’d rather been seen as a oversharer” than someone who did nothing.
That does not mean I will forward blindly, but if you do happen to get a forward from me that’s not a joke, perhaps, just perhaps I am trying to say something to you politely, or just reach out to you in my way. If its unwelcome, tell me, but no matter what, tell me something, anything rather than the deafening silence I continually face in my forwarding marathons.
- Are You Guilty Of Oversharing Your Photos? (lifehacker.com.au)
- Oversharing: I Didn’t Need to Know That! (socialsolutionscollective.com)
- Facebook Detox (deepthoughtsandsparkleness.wordpress.com)
- Top 10 Unfriendable Mistakes (laptopmag.com)
- Social Media Alert: Oversharing (expertscolumn.com)
I don’t know. The three words I can always count on in my life. I have struggled with who I am for the longest time. I think that the only time I was sure what I wanted to be was when I won a writing competition in high school (the NCTE) that allowed me acceptance into UCLA. After that, it was one giant slippery slope. I became unsure if being an English major was enough, then got caught up in promoting and creating events in college (South Asian Youth Conference, Bruin Bhangra,etc) , and I thought I had a knack for it. My family couldn’t afford for me to go, so I took on being a dishwasher as well as doing dorm security to make tuition. I became even more confused. Did I want to just become a write? How will I survive? So I added Political Science as well, because I thought I was special and could do both. That added another year so I took almost 5 years to graduate.
I still think that college was perhaps the best time of my life because it allowed me to almost figure out who I am, yet in some ways it spoiled me. I avoided real life, and so after college I took on Americorps and ended up in Lexington, Kentucky where I tutored juvenile delinquents in English for a year. Again, I got busy in volunteering, and not really facing myself. After coming back, I somehow decided on law school at the Southwestern University School of Law, but not in old program, the SCALE program, the only 2 year law program in the country at the time. I decided to go with being unconventional because it allowed me to avoid real life. So went the story of my life, yet I also know I am not being fair with myself. I make not knowing seem a bad thing, but what I really mean is my hunger for knowledge has never died. I like to think it keeps me young. Sometimes saying “I don’t know” is also saying “I want more.”
- Letter: Get to know AmeriCorps, and amazing people who make it happen (tcpalm.com)
- Shakespeare and Salaries: Getting a Job as an English Major (shannawithstanza.wordpress.com)
– Bill Copeland