Law School?

[Long phone conversation yesterday evening with Violet. She desperately wants me to enroll here in the fall. We've discussed this many times since she started her own application process in early 2000, when we both worked in the office where I'm still slaving away pointlessly. I followed her journey thru the LSAT, the application (she wrote a kick-ass essay), the acceptance, and have been enjoying the tales of her classes (which she loves) and the studying (which she doesn't). She seems to believe I'd have no problem garnering high enough LSAT scores, and writing a compelling enough application essay, that I could get in without an undergrad degree. (She did it without even finishing high school!)]

[Well, something's gotta change. I don't write about my job here because, frankly, it's too depressing to go on about. I have been stuck on the lowest rung of an industry whose basic reason for being repulses me more and more. I have no interest in jumping thru the hoops which would enable to advance in this industry, but have been unable (unwilling?) to get off my ass and stop mixing metaphors...I mean, begin a meaningful career. (I can't write those words without thinking of Sally Struthers: "...gun repair...TV/VCR repair...private investigator...or get your high school diploma...") And, more specifically, while I have found things to like in my job in the past year and a half, I really dislike my boss.]

[I am fascinated by politics, history, language, and, yes, law. I have spent hours here. My politics have drifted futher and further left since moving to San Francisco (surprise!), so the New College's activist bent doesn't repel me. There are so many more doors that would open to me with a law degree.]

[So many doubts: my dropping out (twice!) left some scars that, while I don't discuss them either, haven't gone away. My inability to finish last year's creative writing class at Harvey Milk brought all my nightmares about school rushing back.]

[Later: Oh, I gotta get outta here. Funny I should be writing the above, and two minutes later, el Bosso comes in and reams me (how's that for vocabulary, Chay? :)) for something that I didn't do. No attempt to find out the truth, just an immediate, angry assumption that it was I who fucked up. Grrrr....I know, I know, don't let this ass propel me into something I'm not sure about, but law school's looking better and better by the minute.]

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