I can't sleep.
It's 2AM... well, 2:46AM if you want to be exact. I've mopped the kitchen, wiped down the walls, and even cleaned that spot under the Kitchen Aid mixer. I mean, who the hell is going to walk into my house at 3AM to lift up a five pound mixer to find a few old spices and dried up flour under the motor? And why would I even be friends with such a shitty individual who would subject a friend's house to such a rigorous inspection?
Me I suppose.
Today was rough, to say the least. When you have as much time as I do to think about life, you tend to micro-analyze everything. Like the spot under my mixer, I tend to give things a much closer look when I'm not occupied with work, school, or the dog. Speaking of the dog, I can't help but envy his ability to sleep 16 hours a day at a clip without coming up for air. Usually when I leave him in his crate upstairs he pitches a huge bitch fit to get out (that's if I haven't bribed him with a treat. He's a shrewd animal...).
Well, tonight as I scrub some shit out from under the MIXER, I thought about commitments. Not relationship commitments per say, just commitments in general. I just finished school. It was a three-year commitment where I spent countless nights reading over atom-sized texts and vomiting over test scores.
I made this commitment in lieu of a future, much greater commitment made by some benevolent employer out there to keep me with a roof over my head and a full fridge. Employment is just as much as a commitment as any other relationship. Unlike your job at the McDonald's across the street, a commitment to a new law grad is a steep investment. You see, each hour you work at McDonalds, there's a definite number of profit & output. They make money off of you and can count precisely from penny to penny how much money you will make them at any given hour for any given week.
Committing to a young law grad, wet behind the ears and eager to learn how exactly to be a lawyer is a much more costly matter. That employer can count every single penny they are going to lose each year training you. For the first three years of practice, you my friend, are a big waste of money. The only reason why they engage in this money blowing scheme year after year, with eager 2Ls lined up with resumes in hand, is the hope that they will hit billable gold when you finally get your law legs about ya. Yup. It's a really, really, really, stupid practice. Firms, still shaky from the recent economy, persist in a practice of Russian Roulette in hopes to keep up with the Jones or at least keep up the appearance of having money to blow.
Even though this scheme is foolish, it still requires one essential, rational element: commitment. That's the problem I've encountered the past few months. Commitment. Finding someone who will commit their client's hard earned money into training me into becoming a successful, well-honed litigation machine. A lawyer is only as good as their reputation and their pedigree, so you can imagine how many of us unemployed law grads take it personally when we leave the hallowed halls of the law school to find ourselves without anyone willing to make a commitment to them.
The building blocks of human society are glued together by commitment. Our parents, whether it was willingly or forced, made a commitment when we were popped out of the womb. We commit to a set of friends, our school of choice, and most importantly, we make a commitment to who we decide to become when we have the chance to mold our own destinies. I beg to differ with Maslow when he failed to add commitment to his hierarchy of human needs. Perhaps he meant to cover the subject under the broad category of "love." Blah. Anyways... We make commitments in life because we find value in taking our time and effort required to fulfill the terms of a commitment. Value is something we see as beneficial and worth any sacrifice we have to make to get the end result. We are constantly making decisions each day about whether or not something is of value.
Men understand value. I marvel at my friends who wonder why the hell their significant other hasn't proposed and the girl next door gets a ring in less than two second flat. Unlike women, men propose because two events have simultaneously converged: financial stability and timing. Don't have any allusions about being "the one" and being so in love. Our country has a divorce rate of well over 60 percent, so that's a huge bunch of you-know-what that I will not reach for a pair of boots to step in.
Nope. A man decides to propose when he is both financially ready and the timing is right. They've gotten their wild oats sown, they've had a few too many a few too many times, and frankly they find themselves becoming an increasingly odd site among their matched friends. That's when whoever they are dating at the time gets hitched. It's not magic. There's no sudden realization that this person is "the one". This person is actually like a winning lottery ticket- you got them at the right time and at the right place. Marriage is a much more rational commitment for a man.
So that's why I find myself at 2AM writing this ridiculously long blog post. I feel as if I have no value. The rejection letters pile up and I watch as my linkedin.com fills up with updates from happy, committed couples. So and so at such and such. Yadda Yadda works at boogy bot bot. (Well, that sounded stupid. Just go with me, ok?) Committed. Each morning I wake up, I think to myself what is it about me that keeps something from making such a leap of faith and sending out the "Congratulations" letter. What is the value that so many others seem to find in other people that I lack?
Such meanderings of the mind, taken at 2AM, leave you with a very naked view of who you are. I am up at night because this feeling of being an absolute piece of mediocrity isn't letting me rest. Not good, not bad, just "mehhhhhhh." Do you remember the Bible passage where God talks about his disdain for lukewarm water? Hell, who on earth DOES like lukewarm water? Hot water is good for tea, coffee, and hot cocoa. All fantastic things in my book. Cold water is great on a hot, summer day. Lemonade and Kool-Aid are just two applications that come to my mind.
But lukewarm water? God says he'll spit you out in a minute. Well God, you made your point and I feel like you just hocked a lugie known as my life out onto the sizzling 110 degree pavement. (Yes, I took the time to look up whether I spelled "lugie" right.)
Is my mediocrity what stops me from gaining a foothold in life? I'm a wonderful volunteer, but not asked to work full-time. I'm loved, but after the good times and the bad, I'm still not valuable enough for anything deeper. I'm no soulmate. Just an old shoe. An old shoe who can't seem to find someone who thinks I fit. Fit for duty. Fit for something more than just a casual rendezvous from the clearance rack. Not even the Nordstrom clearance rack, you know where they mark down $1,000.00 shoes to $500.00? Just $499.00 less and I could actually afford to take the shoe home. Maybe the rack at JCPenny. Ouch. Even typing that hurt.
I'm tested on a daily basis only to find myself at an 89.
Not a solid B. But definitely not an A.
P. Manolos
It's 2AM... well, 2:46AM if you want to be exact. I've mopped the kitchen, wiped down the walls, and even cleaned that spot under the Kitchen Aid mixer. I mean, who the hell is going to walk into my house at 3AM to lift up a five pound mixer to find a few old spices and dried up flour under the motor? And why would I even be friends with such a shitty individual who would subject a friend's house to such a rigorous inspection?
Me I suppose.
Today was rough, to say the least. When you have as much time as I do to think about life, you tend to micro-analyze everything. Like the spot under my mixer, I tend to give things a much closer look when I'm not occupied with work, school, or the dog. Speaking of the dog, I can't help but envy his ability to sleep 16 hours a day at a clip without coming up for air. Usually when I leave him in his crate upstairs he pitches a huge bitch fit to get out (that's if I haven't bribed him with a treat. He's a shrewd animal...).
Well, tonight as I scrub some shit out from under the MIXER, I thought about commitments. Not relationship commitments per say, just commitments in general. I just finished school. It was a three-year commitment where I spent countless nights reading over atom-sized texts and vomiting over test scores.
I made this commitment in lieu of a future, much greater commitment made by some benevolent employer out there to keep me with a roof over my head and a full fridge. Employment is just as much as a commitment as any other relationship. Unlike your job at the McDonald's across the street, a commitment to a new law grad is a steep investment. You see, each hour you work at McDonalds, there's a definite number of profit & output. They make money off of you and can count precisely from penny to penny how much money you will make them at any given hour for any given week.
Committing to a young law grad, wet behind the ears and eager to learn how exactly to be a lawyer is a much more costly matter. That employer can count every single penny they are going to lose each year training you. For the first three years of practice, you my friend, are a big waste of money. The only reason why they engage in this money blowing scheme year after year, with eager 2Ls lined up with resumes in hand, is the hope that they will hit billable gold when you finally get your law legs about ya. Yup. It's a really, really, really, stupid practice. Firms, still shaky from the recent economy, persist in a practice of Russian Roulette in hopes to keep up with the Jones or at least keep up the appearance of having money to blow.
Even though this scheme is foolish, it still requires one essential, rational element: commitment. That's the problem I've encountered the past few months. Commitment. Finding someone who will commit their client's hard earned money into training me into becoming a successful, well-honed litigation machine. A lawyer is only as good as their reputation and their pedigree, so you can imagine how many of us unemployed law grads take it personally when we leave the hallowed halls of the law school to find ourselves without anyone willing to make a commitment to them.
The building blocks of human society are glued together by commitment. Our parents, whether it was willingly or forced, made a commitment when we were popped out of the womb. We commit to a set of friends, our school of choice, and most importantly, we make a commitment to who we decide to become when we have the chance to mold our own destinies. I beg to differ with Maslow when he failed to add commitment to his hierarchy of human needs. Perhaps he meant to cover the subject under the broad category of "love." Blah. Anyways... We make commitments in life because we find value in taking our time and effort required to fulfill the terms of a commitment. Value is something we see as beneficial and worth any sacrifice we have to make to get the end result. We are constantly making decisions each day about whether or not something is of value.
Men understand value. I marvel at my friends who wonder why the hell their significant other hasn't proposed and the girl next door gets a ring in less than two second flat. Unlike women, men propose because two events have simultaneously converged: financial stability and timing. Don't have any allusions about being "the one" and being so in love. Our country has a divorce rate of well over 60 percent, so that's a huge bunch of you-know-what that I will not reach for a pair of boots to step in.
Nope. A man decides to propose when he is both financially ready and the timing is right. They've gotten their wild oats sown, they've had a few too many a few too many times, and frankly they find themselves becoming an increasingly odd site among their matched friends. That's when whoever they are dating at the time gets hitched. It's not magic. There's no sudden realization that this person is "the one". This person is actually like a winning lottery ticket- you got them at the right time and at the right place. Marriage is a much more rational commitment for a man.
So that's why I find myself at 2AM writing this ridiculously long blog post. I feel as if I have no value. The rejection letters pile up and I watch as my linkedin.com fills up with updates from happy, committed couples. So and so at such and such. Yadda Yadda works at boogy bot bot. (Well, that sounded stupid. Just go with me, ok?) Committed. Each morning I wake up, I think to myself what is it about me that keeps something from making such a leap of faith and sending out the "Congratulations" letter. What is the value that so many others seem to find in other people that I lack?
Such meanderings of the mind, taken at 2AM, leave you with a very naked view of who you are. I am up at night because this feeling of being an absolute piece of mediocrity isn't letting me rest. Not good, not bad, just "mehhhhhhh." Do you remember the Bible passage where God talks about his disdain for lukewarm water? Hell, who on earth DOES like lukewarm water? Hot water is good for tea, coffee, and hot cocoa. All fantastic things in my book. Cold water is great on a hot, summer day. Lemonade and Kool-Aid are just two applications that come to my mind.
But lukewarm water? God says he'll spit you out in a minute. Well God, you made your point and I feel like you just hocked a lugie known as my life out onto the sizzling 110 degree pavement. (Yes, I took the time to look up whether I spelled "lugie" right.)
Is my mediocrity what stops me from gaining a foothold in life? I'm a wonderful volunteer, but not asked to work full-time. I'm loved, but after the good times and the bad, I'm still not valuable enough for anything deeper. I'm no soulmate. Just an old shoe. An old shoe who can't seem to find someone who thinks I fit. Fit for duty. Fit for something more than just a casual rendezvous from the clearance rack. Not even the Nordstrom clearance rack, you know where they mark down $1,000.00 shoes to $500.00? Just $499.00 less and I could actually afford to take the shoe home. Maybe the rack at JCPenny. Ouch. Even typing that hurt.
I'm tested on a daily basis only to find myself at an 89.
Not a solid B. But definitely not an A.
P. Manolos
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