TO THE BITTER END . . .

Terry Schiavo, rest in peace. Or at least try to.

***

THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW PATH . . .

I'm having a discussion right now with Juice about what, exactly, I'll be doing come the fall season. What an idea ... I've never been in the position of "uh-oh, I have nothing to do."

I could, I tell Juice, work for a private law firm in either Manhattan or closer to home. I could take a huge pay cut and enter the non-profit sector, and scrimp in other areas of my life. I could pursue all my leads in the government sector, despite the harsh competition in the field. I could cut my losses and leave the industry completely and start something new (with capital I don't have right now, but that's an issue for another day).

But the most shocking realization for me is not that I have all these options and nowhere to run with them. It is that in thinking over these various paths, I end up at the same place: asking myself, "do I really want to keep on being a lawyer?"

I remember in late middle school, I wanted to be a Legal Aid attorney, defending the wrongly-accused (for I had somehow convinced myself that all defendants were wrongly accused and the police and the government were the bad guys), and bringing good tidings to the downtrodden everywhere. In high school, one day, I had miraculously changed course and determined that I would be a prosecutor, putting away the bad guys (for I had somehow convinced myself that all defendants were bad guys trying to get off the hook for the evil things they did), and bettering society with my bulldoggish ways. By the middle of my college years, I had become the broad-minded intellectual (hold your laughter, please) who wanted to work for the United Nations and bring entire peoples out of poverty via moral legislation and needful intervention. Post-college and throughout law school, I had finally focused myself and latched onto a nearly-achievable goal: I would work for the government, as a federal prosecutor. I would eliminate Asian gangs, stop the flow of illegal drugs into our communities, put the white-collar criminals in their place, and (ok, now I'm sheepish at confessing my deepest dreams) become the first Asian-American United States Attorney General. My path was set -- I just needed to keep stepping upon it.

Only, now that I actually need to start walking the walk, I find I am suffering from a touch of cowardice and self-doubt. I mean, practically, how the heck do I get there? How do I contribute meaningfully to society and make the most of the skills given and taught to me ... but also have time for myself, my family, my friends and my church? How do I serve my country and my community ... but also survive on a less-than-ideal paycheck? How do I do back-breaking work, burn the midnight oil and take my work home with me every night ... but also maintain my mental, emotional and physical health? How do I reconcile my chosen vocation with my inherent insecurities and laziness and fear of the unknown? Oh, forget all these deep questions: how the heck do I even GET a job when everyone asks for 5+ years of actual non-clerkship experience? STOP ASKING FOR EXPERIENCE, PEOPLE, AND JUST GIVE IT TO ME!!!

What if, I said to Juice, I went to work for some humongous midtown law firm (assuming, of course, that they would hire someone as unpretentious as myself)? There I'd be, the consummate non-schmoozer. I'd have to play office politics and butter up surly giant-corporation clients. I'd have to wear some smart outfit to work every day lest I look frumpy next to all the hardcore barracuda associates in my department. I'd have to do meaningless, mind-numbing work for a result that won't even have my name on it (yes, that's my ego speaking). I'd have to slave away for a cause in which I would have little to no belief. I'd have to work late hours just for the sake of face time. I'd have to hop a crowded train every morning for the 1.5-hour commute into the city, then squeeze onto another crowded train every night for the 1.5-hour ride back out. What if I go there and come out two years later totally evil and jaded and hardened and mean and materialistic?

What if, I said to Juice, I went to work for a non-profit organization, on behalf of women, or children, or immigrants, or the Korean community? There I'd be, bitter about my 50% pay-cut, the lack of free office supplies, and the burdensome bureaucracy that beleaguers the hard workers of non-profits everywhere. I'd have to fight for everything: a pen, a pad of paper, time in a congressperson's calendar, discounted rental fees for the fundraiser we hope will endow our next project. I'd have to do the work of five people in the time alloted to one. And knowing me, I'd have to lie awake in bed at night worrying about the people on whose behalf I work, wondering if I'm making an impact at all. What if I go there and come out five years later poor as all heck, disillusioned with society, and thinking, "I should've gone to a private firm and made loads of money instead?"

What if, I said to Juice, I went to work for another arm of the federal government, say as a federal prosecutor? There I'd be, exhausted from the lengthy and cutthroat application and interview process (but at least I'd get a badge!). I'd have to run all over the courthouse as a scrub initiate, being yelled at by this and that judge. I'd have to be chained to a beeper, even on the weekends. I'd have to deal with chauvinistic and sometimes mysoginistic (yes, I know it's 2005, but not much has really changed) federal law enforcement agents who think, "ain't no way a 5'2" Asian girl can go up against this Colombian drug cartel." I'd have to jump-start myself with little or no honeymoon period, and little or no subsequent guidance and training -- America, be scared, for I will have been unleashed upon your legal system! What if I go there and come out ten years later ridden with chronic fatigue syndrome and plagued by stalkers hired by all the bad guys I will have sent to jail (because yes, I'd be THAT GOOD)?

What if, I said to Juice, I went to work for the FBI or the CIA (as if they would hire me after I've just blogged about it) or the DEA or Homeland Security? There I'd be, panting and wheezing my way through boot camp, packing heat (even more reason for America to be nervous) and hopefully graduating the training academies without too many visible bruises. I'd have to ... oh, forget that. What if I get shot?!

What if, I said to Juice, I went to work for some smaller, local private law firm? There I'd be, with more flexible work hours and a damned easier commute. I can't think of that many drawbacks to this scenario ... but I think my risks of getting lazy and pigeon-holed are greater in this environment. If I'm comfortable, why would I leave or seek something else? And if I don't seek something else, how will I achieve my end goal of representing right law and representing my people?

What if, I said to Juice, I left the law entirely and started something new? Perhaps an event-planning business with Ha and Soybean? Perhaps back to school for a Masters in Library Science, so I can spend my days with the books I love most? Perhaps a Ph.D. in British Literature, so I can go back to my collegiate stomping grounds and spend the rest of my days in nerdy academia? Perhaps I just need to fall passionately in love with a rich, rich man and have babies with him. Oh if only these things were so easy to determine ...

Headhunters' business cards litter my wallet. Contacts and people willing to stick their nose out for me constantly volunteer their time. Near-daily searches turn up new potential leads that depend solely on me selling myself adequately. But I remain troubled, for I feel that one of these days, I'm going to have to grit my teeth and lie as if my life depended on it, and say, "Yes, this is exactly what I want to do and I will give my all to this job." And one morning, some time into the future, I'm going to wake up and hate myself for having fallen off the path, having let go of my ideals, and having ended up as a materialistic, conforming, bored and uninterested advocate for ... well, for nothing.