I'm frightened. I don't like to admit it, but I am. I'm frightened on the one hand that I'm going to wake up one day and realize that this is it. That this is all I have to show for my life. Money in the bank, but a family I don't spend enough time with, and an office full of papers that don't matter to anyone. That there was a better way to spend my time on the planet. Not necessarily that I could have affected the world, but at least that I could have enjoyed my days more and no one would have suffered for it. That I could feel like it was a life worth lived instead of a race to reach a milestone that seems less clear with each passing moment.
But I'm frightened on the other hand that this really is as good as it gets. There are millions of people living in poverty, or if not poverty then at least working in jobs that are a great deal more unpleasant than this one, and without the monetary reward. I know I'm fortunate to have had the chance to earn a salary most others do not have the opportunity to earn. I know there are people smarter and more capable than I am working in steel mills or factories or driving the cars that take us to the airport. I know I'm fortunate to be where I am.
And so I'm frightened that one day I will wake up and decide the trade-offs are no longer worth it, and I will leave, but then I will find that I had it pretty good. That there's nothing better than what I have right now, yet I'm too self-absorbed to realize it. That I can sit here, in my expensive leather chair that I may or may not have reported in my tax return after I took it home from the office, complaining about my secretary, when there are people who will never have secretaries, or who wish they could just be someone's secretary.
I know people who live lives I wish were mine, but I wonder if everyone feels that way. If a novelist looks at a law firm partner and wishes he had the secure and constant income, the chance to manage people, and the power to make large business deals happen like I have. Whereas I look at a novelist as having the freedom to control his own destiny, and the opportunity to express himself creatively, without having to spend 60+ hours a week at a desk, reading papers that matter to no one.
I was recently thinking about my place in the world, and I searched using Google for the names of some of my colleagues. According to the Internet, they barely exist. We work hard, but we really are Anonymous Lawyers. We affect people, but in ways no different than someone else in our positions would if they sat in these seats. It struck me as quite likely that more people have read the words I write on this site than have read the words in the legal documents I have drafted. That frightens me, because it makes me wonder what exactly I have spent these years doing. But, again, I know I have it very well. It frightens me that I may have it well enough that I have forgotten how well I actually have it, and can even be tempted by the idea that I should have it better than this, or that there are things that I would trade this for.
I should steel my spine before tomorrow's summer associate candidates come for interviews. This isn't the Anonymous Lawyer they should talk to. They'll turn me in. I need to show enthusiasm about the firm, like I tell the associates to do. If only I could write legal thrillers instead of pretending to be legally thrilled.
I have just noticed that the housekeeper forgot to vacuum under my desk. Combined with her failure to fold the laundry last week, and the missing letter opener, it may be time to find a new one.
But I'm frightened on the other hand that this really is as good as it gets. There are millions of people living in poverty, or if not poverty then at least working in jobs that are a great deal more unpleasant than this one, and without the monetary reward. I know I'm fortunate to have had the chance to earn a salary most others do not have the opportunity to earn. I know there are people smarter and more capable than I am working in steel mills or factories or driving the cars that take us to the airport. I know I'm fortunate to be where I am.
And so I'm frightened that one day I will wake up and decide the trade-offs are no longer worth it, and I will leave, but then I will find that I had it pretty good. That there's nothing better than what I have right now, yet I'm too self-absorbed to realize it. That I can sit here, in my expensive leather chair that I may or may not have reported in my tax return after I took it home from the office, complaining about my secretary, when there are people who will never have secretaries, or who wish they could just be someone's secretary.
I know people who live lives I wish were mine, but I wonder if everyone feels that way. If a novelist looks at a law firm partner and wishes he had the secure and constant income, the chance to manage people, and the power to make large business deals happen like I have. Whereas I look at a novelist as having the freedom to control his own destiny, and the opportunity to express himself creatively, without having to spend 60+ hours a week at a desk, reading papers that matter to no one.
I was recently thinking about my place in the world, and I searched using Google for the names of some of my colleagues. According to the Internet, they barely exist. We work hard, but we really are Anonymous Lawyers. We affect people, but in ways no different than someone else in our positions would if they sat in these seats. It struck me as quite likely that more people have read the words I write on this site than have read the words in the legal documents I have drafted. That frightens me, because it makes me wonder what exactly I have spent these years doing. But, again, I know I have it very well. It frightens me that I may have it well enough that I have forgotten how well I actually have it, and can even be tempted by the idea that I should have it better than this, or that there are things that I would trade this for.
I should steel my spine before tomorrow's summer associate candidates come for interviews. This isn't the Anonymous Lawyer they should talk to. They'll turn me in. I need to show enthusiasm about the firm, like I tell the associates to do. If only I could write legal thrillers instead of pretending to be legally thrilled.
I have just noticed that the housekeeper forgot to vacuum under my desk. Combined with her failure to fold the laundry last week, and the missing letter opener, it may be time to find a new one.
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