I am the fledgling lawyer. You, who’s reading this will meet me halfway through the tabernacles of boredom and promises like any human being I think. We will go about the same conundrums of this thing called life only that I am a lawyer, unfortunately, and you’re probably not. I belong to the forsaken legion of heroines and villains living in this side of the globe trotting the pathways which old ones once traversed and which has for its end the labyrinths of hell. I absolutely don’t want to join them and I will try by all means to redirect the path. How sure I am to get things in place, I don’t know myself. I would just like to anchor myself now or perish later.
I am the fledgling lawyer, now suffering the apathy that most people I deal now have against me. I try with all my might to convince them and to probably deconstruct their preconceptions about me but what I get now is a simple stare, gloating eyes, and rabid visions. I may be dwelling on this too much but sad to say according to the oracle this is the only way to get in. I must squeeze whatever charm I have to lure that secretary to give me that golden document to win a case. Whatever idea I have of the theoretical maxims I learned is being stripped off. And I must.
I am the fledgling lawyer, trying to get busy of what it is to be a Harrish character. I wake up in the morning. Stare myself at the mirror and look deep at my eyes and oh what are those dark circles! Mastering the four-in-hand knot until I choke. Try to look as suave as possible. Get in the way of people and kick the filth that gets in my way. It’s equity. Possibilities are a lot.
I am the fledgling lawyer, now signing in.
Writing is Hard to Love (Confessions of a Composition Junkie) - Philbert Dy’s tweet made me think a bit. See, there’s something about “loving writing.” Ten years ago, I’d probably say that Mr. Dy is right. After all, I ...
2 months ago