Life in a Post-Apocalyptic World

I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t slightly disappointed that the Mayans got it wrong.  And I’m as horrified to write that as you are to read that - except, of course, for the 5 people who wholeheartedly agree and know that I’m lying about being horrified and are unsure what cop-out line to fall back on now that the apocalypse did not come to pass. (As a disclaimer: This piece is for entertainment value only and is not meant to cause concern or imply a need for serious medications.  I’m not sure I’d be wholly opposed to serious medication depending on what you’re offering (I kid), but my point is you shouldn’t take this post (or yourself) too seriously.  So, read at your own risk, or whatever.) To clarify, I’m not talking about those of you who went ahead and packed backpacks full of essential supplies (whatever it is you deem essential when the world has ended) to survive in post-apocalyptic America, with the zombies and lack of electricity and warring factions.  People could argue I have some depressive tendencies as of late (I prefer to call it ‘being realistic’), but you folks are batshit crazy.  I’m also not empathizing with those people who traveled to destinations where they thought they’d be spared – seriously, folks, did you read about the people traveling to small town Bugarach, France because of its doomsday appeal?  Apparently people in that town thought they’d survive the apocalypse, on a mountain top, maybe or maybe not as a result of an alien presence.  Aliens.  I’m not kidding.  So, to be clear – while I awaited December 21^st with curiosity and disturbing anticipation, I was quite certain the world would indeed go on and all I’m saying is that when my alarm went off as scheduled that morning and I looked out my window to see everything quite intact, there was a slight feeling of letdown.  I mean, at the very least there could have been a downed tree or two or perhaps a miraculous (and short-lived, since Christmas was approaching and I’m not trying to embrace the Grinch in all this) subway failure or bridge closing, so as to avoid just one trip to the office.

Just take a minute to think about the appeal, if the world ended I wouldn’t have to go through the same song and dance about expensive and bullshit new years eve plans in a week (reason enough), I wouldn’t have to worry about health insurance dictating life decisions, I wouldn’t have to plan two bachelorette parties next year, I wouldn’t have to third (fifth, seventh, ninth) wheel dinner parties any longer and most importantly, I wouldn’t have to go to my job.  All I'm saying is there was an appeal to being able to walk around the last few weeks saying “oh well I don’t have to deal with that thing or issue, because the world is going to end, la la la.”  Someone, somewhere is scoffing at my rationale with an arrogant “yeah, because you’d be dead, jackass” sort of response.  That someone isn’t wrong but it also doesn’t change anything I just said.  So, there.  Lawyered.  Someone else is awkwardly trying not to point out that if I wanted to end things, like, umm, my life, I, err, likely, could, you know, do that.  Also, not inaccurate.  Perhaps that even warrants a touché.  But, first of all, that isn’t my intention.  I’m not suicidal, I’m just bored and tragically unimpressed by life’s current state of affairs.  Also, I’m a little insulted you aren’t assuming I’d be like Katniss and would be one of the survivors.  I actually think I would be.  Let’s be honest, not only could I run circles around you, I’m way more clever than most people out there (and boy does that shit becomes more and more apparent everyday).  So I’d bet on my odds, you know, for like 3 days until my insulin ran out and then I’d be screwed. 

But the point is, after 2 or 3 or 7 (I’ve lost count and have never really been good at math) recently failed predictions of apocalyptic doom, this was the last hurrah for doomsday enthusiasts.  This was, supposedly, the big one.  The Mayans warned our sorry asses about December 21, 2012 centuries ago.  Although, I have to admit that the hysteria before Y2K and even last year with the rapture actually seemed more impressive than the lead-up to 12-21-12.  In fact, I couldn’t help but be disappointed with the lack of extremists on the streets of New York preaching about coming to Jesus before the end or alerting us of our imminent demise.  But nonetheless, this one was prophesized, it wasn’t some fanatic preaching from a mountain top, this was an entire civilization throwing up their hands and saying "sorry gang the calendar ends, so, enjoy it while you can." 

Of course, that’s actually not what they said at all.  The truth about the date's significance is fascinating really.  The Mayans indeed acknowledge December 21, 2012 as the end of their calendar, but it seems they did not interpret that to mean the end of the world (leave the panic to the white people).  The prophecy of Tortuguero was misinterpreted and while it indeed predicted the end of a cycle in time which would take place in 2012, the end of a cycle of days is not equivalent to the end of all days.   In fact, Guatemala and Mexico (and other areas where the Mayan culture lives on, I'm too lazy to list them) were preparing for the start of a new era, the start of new days, not the end of days.  They planned to welcome in this new calendar with celebration, as the start of something fresh, a new beginning – yes, but not necessarily one resurrected from the ashes, full of zombies and militia.  (Yes, yes, I’ve clearly gotten my apparent views on what this post-apocalyptic world would look like solely from AMC and NBC.)  Not the promise of destruction, instead the promise of something new.  I could certainly get on board with the idea of welcoming in a new era.  Indeed, leaving 2012 and the years that came before not just in the past, but in an entirely other cycle of life, doesn’t sound too bad to me.  In fact, it sounds refreshing and therapeutic.  (Oh that - that was just some bad call in another era of time.  Can't worry about that anymore.  Thank you Mayan calendar.)  They prepared for parties to celebrate this rebirth, so to speak, not to drink themselves to an oblivion in preparation for impending doom (though, to be fair I imagine the hangovers were about the same).  Call it a spiritual awakening.  A more dramatic version of new years resolutions.  I kind of like the idea of ushering in a new era and preparing for change.  Maybe after years of bad luck and unwarranted hits from karma, the planets will shift and the stars will realign and life will go on exactly as it was, except for oh-so-differently.  I'm down with that. 

Of course, in some ways it could be argued that the world has in fact already ended.  Perhaps we’re living in the aftermath of civilization and didn’t even notice the transition.  Let’s recount the last few months, the tri-state area is still recovering (and will be for quite awhile) from the latest natural disaster to hit the east coast; senseless mass killings have been taking place across the country without any hope for comprehension, and no promise of justice, igniting people across the states in a heated debate about gun control (I will not engage, I will not engage); Europe is in crisis and unrest is growing throughout the world; Bloomberg essentially acknowledged global warming was a "thing" as we went from a hurricane to a nor'easter and then back to 60 degrees within 2 weeks and even the naysayers are starting to have a hard time disagreeing; and I heard at least two of my uber republican friends praise Obama in the last week (if that’s not proof of the world ending, I'm not really sure what else you're looking for). But, at least on the surface, we seem to have escaped a fiery demise - or however exactly it was people expected this thing to go down.  So, here’s to moving forward in this new era, in this post-apocalyptic world that didn’t exactly come to be.  Let’s still use this as a reason to leave the bad behind, to cleanse, to restart and let's see what this next cycle has in store for all of us.

But, as one last ditch effort to hold on to my pre-Deceber 21st views of what may lay head, in addition to the more dramatic things I'd like to leave in this former era, here is a list of 5 random things I hope don't survive this new post-apocalyptic world.

1. The word "epic."  I mean we tried to leave this back in 2010 but there are some really persistent followers that keep trying to make this come back (stop trying to make fetch happen, it's not going to happen). 
2. Call Me Maybe.  (Damn you Carly Rae and your catchy lyrics.  I long for the day when I can say the phrase “this is crazy” without immediately following it up with “but here’s my number, so call me maybe.”)  Gangnam Style.  (I think my hate for this song culminated when my remote control got stuck on the today show - okay, it didn’t get stuck, I’m sure I voluntarily subjected myself to that program and then later complained about how irritating it was - and I was forced to watch someone's Griswold style abundance of Christmas lights dance to this 'anthem' in the aftermath of Sandy, while most people I knew were without power.)  And Taylor Swift, in general. Just shhh, stay behind Taylor, stay behind.
3. Times Square. Look, I never claimed my wish list was realistic but I sure as shit would not miss Times Square if the world were to disappear. Honestly, I'm not sure what horrific war crime I committed in a past life to be subjected to that area each day after leaving my nightmare of a job, but I imagine in my next life, walking through times square will be punishment for stabbing a tourist in the face.
4. AIM.  Like really, how is this still a thing?  I recognize for 9/10 of the world it is something they vaguely remember from college or high school and they’re not sure they even remember their password, but I keep signing my ass on everyday to appease my 3 friends who have not yet managed to embrace Gchat.  What's that? I could just not sit on my computer at work and chat with people all day long? Stop it.
5. The Kardashians.  Who cares.  Seriously, why do you people still watch their shows and give a shit about their many, many failed relationships and idiotic shenanigans.  I’ll admit I tuned in, on occasion, to one of the early seasons to see what the fuss was about and couldn’t help but be amused by their antics and absurd drama...but enough already.  Kim’s multi-million dollar wedding special (and immediate divorce) represented all that is wrong with America and let’s be honest, if any foreigner wanted to prove that Americans are dumb, they’d merely have to point out how many years these people have been gracing our television screens and rolling around in piles of money they earned simply by being reality stars, I imagine we’d have a hard time arguing their logic.

The Lies I Learned in Law School...and other unhappy endings.

 Oh nooo not another post about the mistakes associated with being a lawyer - is that what you're thinking? I bet it is. I'd be thinking it too.  Well I promise to curb future posts about the legal profession, mostly because I'm saving it up for the scathing tell-all I'll write someday, but I had some unfinished business to attend to after http://redorwhiteandlifesotherdilemmas.blogspot.com/2011/09/just-sit-there-and-look-pretty-case.html and I somehow waited this long to spew it all over you. Mostly because I forgot to hit publish back in September.  It's just been sitting in the wings, waiting patiently for its debut. (So, on that note, this was written months ago for those who may or may not be aware of current contemplations). I'm going to write a book, call it the "Lies I Learned in Law School "and set up lemonade type stands outside Kaplan LSAT review courses to sell it. I might even sell crystal light, circa the good ol' lemonade stand days, for good measure and you know, as sort of a consolation prize.   What's that?  You sold real homemade lemonade - well la di da, good for you.  As a follow-up to http://redorwhiteandlifesotherdilemmas.blogspot.com/2011/09/just-sit-there-and-look-pretty-case.html and a continued public service announcement against attending law school, I would consider myself a failure if I didn't warn you about the rest of the doom and dread associated with following your life's "dream." 

It isn’t just that I wasted my good years sitting in lecture halls and libraries as I pushed my way through law school. Although I did waste my good years sitting in lecture halls and libraries as I pushed my way through law school. It’s that once you graduate with that diploma you worked oh-so-hard to achieve, you now have to do something remarkable with it. And the harder you worked, the better you did, the harder you will have to continue working, because the better you can do. In America, remarkable and better generally means prestigious. Prestigious (with some obvious noble exceptions) generally means money. And money means working your life away, at least for a few years, while you strive to achieve whatever is next. Of course, at that point you can’t even remember what you sought out to achieve in the first place. And, it’s not just the prestige and related cultural exceptions - as if that wouldn’t be enough outside pressure - it’s the cost of that higher education in the first place. The oh-so-hilarious thing about being a lawyer is there are some who make the big bucks, so to speak - the ones who follow the route (the perfectly landscaped yellow brick road) we're all told we're supposed to want to follow and make the salaries that make other people's heads spin. And then there is the vast majority who make less (or at most the same amount) as those who never attended law school in the first place. But regardless of your destination after school, you HAVE to pay an institution hundreds of thousands of dollars to get an education that will allow you to make a salary that won't allow you to pay back the cost of said education in the first place. Yes, that seems reasonable. And so, alas, many people who swore they'd never walk the golden hallways of a corporate law firm, find themselves working for the "man" out of necessity. As they say, the road to hell is paved with good intentions. 

Many make ambitious promises to pay off their loans in 5 years and then swear they will do what they want to do. But, 5 years come and go and there is barely a dent in those loans. It’s all fine and good to walk into your first law school course with some intention to “do good”, to help people, to make a difference, or to simply do something you care about (tell me more about these things). However, as my father so astutely observed (after I was three years out of law school and my decisions, despite my best efforts, could not be reversed – honestly, how have we not invented a time machine yet?) while not always the case, it sure seems that people who like their jobs don’t make money and people who make money don’t like their jobs. And here I’d been so caught up in just accepting that women can’t really, truly have it all (in terms of career and family – that’s another post), now I’m discovering no one can have it all (in terms of happiness and money). Seems like we all got a pretty raw deal here. Suicidal yet? And, the problem is (one of the problems is) saying we don’t need to make a lot of money or being content with what we have is only half the battle, when a graduate degree leaves you so far in a hole you can barely scrape your way back to the surface. It's a decision that will continue to follow you around, one you can't even escape by filing bankruptcy (true story). And say you've simply had enough and are willing to make less to "be happy", there is the notion of taking a pay cut and then there is being irresponsible. Most pay cuts in this field average close to six figures. Ahh, now you see why this isn't such an easy decision. My monthly loan payments cost more than most people’s monthly rent payment (regardless of neighborhood), and then, of course, I still have to pay rent – a sum which in NYC is barely affordable as is. And even if you manage to pay those momentus sums back, and get to a break even point (don't even raise your hand and ask me about savings), you're faced with the concept of living paycheck to paycheck - after working so hard to get to a point where you wouldn't have to do just that. 

In discussing the phenomenon of money and happiness, there are plenty of people who will tell you that money can’t buy happiness. Well, of course it can’t. That’s an absurd statement. Please don’t insult me by ever saying that to me again. Ever. (Not that I haven't searched it on Ebay - a search that resulted in a ridiculous number of self-help books. Seriously, the number of self-help books on 'how to be happy' make sme think I could just write a whole lot of nonsense, slap the phrase 'get happy' on the front, get that shit published and have a pretty simple solution to this whole blog post actually.) But it can buy a lot of other things, which let’s face it - is a pretty big deal. Sometimes when I’m feeling dramatic I remind people that I’d rather be unhappy and rich (not that I’m rich, that was for effect), than unhappy and poor. Because, taking a pay cut and making less money does not automatically mean someone will be happy and it is no secret that lack of money causes a lot of stress and unhappiness. After a bad day, a trip to a wine bar with a friend makes me happy and that costs money. The prospect of vacations is expensive but results in happiness. Online shopping when I’m stuck at the office makes me very happy. And, the list goes on. 

A lot of my friends (in attempting to be helpful) who do love (or at least like, or you know what - lets start small – who don’t cry on a daily basis or fight back nausea while actually sitting at their desks) think it is well worth it to make less money and encourage their friends to make a similar move. However, in most of these cases, the friends who make these heartfelt proclamations don’t have the same money issues. While I understand they are trying to help, it is somewhat frustrating when you are a speaking to a dual-income individual while trying to survive on your sad, single salary or to someone who is debt-free while you’re juggling 6 or more student loans. If you have a boyfriend, fiancé, or husband who makes good money (or just makes any money - the idea of having two incomes and splitting bills makes me salivate), your salary becomes less important, or if your parents paid for your graduate degree or set up a trust fund (its amazing how many people I know now with such a privileged upbringing), we are just not on the same playing field. While I certainly don’t begrudge you for somehow managing to have it all (contrary to my earlier conclusion that such a thing was impossible), I’m paying all my bills, plus my loans and feel as though I am barely getting by and the idea of leaping into something new with a much lower salary at this age seems fairly stupid (and even if I don't think it seems that stupid, there are plenty of people who have assured me it is). And, while I will continue to yell at my parents for not setting up a trust fund and encouraging me to be an overachiever (reasonable conversations that they fortunately don’t bother to entertain) the fact is that they didn’t and I was and so here we are, trapped in high-rise prisons we put ourselves in.

There was a time (not that long ago, although it feels like a different lifetime) when I had life goals and aspirations that went beyond a salary, but that was before factoring in the cost of my stupid education (as alluded to above) and now those dreams just seem like dim memories. Plus, money is a demanding mistress. It is one of those things that you might not need that much of before you're introduced to her seductive ways, but once you have it, you can't imagine how you would live without it. The so-called golden handcuffs. And I'm not discussing the concept of giving up a lavish life of luxury, but we do have certain comforts, certain expectations, certain securities and things we take for granted and try as I may to crunch my budget, I cannot fathom how people can possibly survive on so far less than my salary.  Money can be paralyzing. And those of us who grew up as part of the infamous middle class seem to have more of a struggle with our salaries in some ways (than those who grew up "privileged."). We're both blessed and cursed by our relationship with the dollar. In one way, not growing up with this kind of money makes it harder to achieve it and then walk away from it, because it is something we never took, will never take, for granted, but it also means we know that we don't need these salaries to survive, to be happy. Split personalities are fun. 

But, its not just the money. It's really not. I'd love to chalk it up to just being that shallow and materialistic and suggest I need designer clothes (I'm relatively clueless about fashion) or cleaning my apartment myself would kill me (yes, you're inferring correctly, most of my friends have a cleaning lady and I too used to take this luxury for granted before I gave up the doorman for a 3rd floor walk-up in anticipation of my fall from grace) but thats not it. Liking nice things and getting used to a way of life is certainly part of it, but it is a part that I really wouldn't have all that much trouble giving up. The bigger issue is that I worked so, so hard to get where I am and then decided I didn't want to be here. So, now what? The idea of walking away from something you spent so much of your life and energy striving for is not an easy pill to swallow. Plus, since I've been wrong about so many things, I don't trust my own opinions. I am paralyzed by the fear that I will simply hate anything I do and then I'll have walked away from a paycheck only to learn it wasn't you law firm, it was me. Gretchen Rubin (in "The Happiness Project") also quotes novelist Lisa Grunwald who said ‘best is good, but better is best”, the idea of taking a voluntary pay cut goes against our very notions of success, of what we’re told should result in happiness. Indeed, it will lead to views of failure even if you leave to pursue something you care about, you're excited about, even if you leave for a respectable job, for one that may ultimately make you happy. The fact is once you’ve crossed the line (by wasting your good years, recall) and joined us on the dark side, it is hard to go back. If for no other reason (and piggybacking on the sentiment of my earlier post - at least now if we find ourselves alone we (and our friends and family) can point to this career, the hours, the job, as being to blame (it makes your friends and family a lot more comfortable when they can point to something like that), and, more importantly, at least now we have the means to support ourselves, there is somewhat of a comfort (except for the 212 days of the year where you are terrified of being laid off and the weekly waves of nausea that accompany a potential mistake) that you will be able to continue to pay the bills. And, of course, the recurring vision of me in my 40's discussing my previous life as a shmancy attorney at a haughty taughty manhattan law firm while now cleaning bathrooms or filing papers in an office building or walking a dog (for the record I have stolen those future career choices from other current attorneys, to illustrate my point) just seems crazy. To peak in salary and conventional notions of success by age 30 is downright depressing. I'd argue it is not better to have had and lost than to never have had at all. (I understand the actual expression is "it is better to have loved and lost"...but there was never love here to lose). 

And, once you've been working within these walls for a few years you lose sight of any reasonable ambition. While 2 years ago I may have been able to articulate alternative options to pursue, at this point I'm so beaten down, so burned out, so abused, that I've skipped right over that step, and well probably right over the next 4 steps as well. So, now I find myself walking by a starbucks with a help wanted sign and walking in (I'd make a damn good barista), or passing a McDonalds and being envious of the employees. I daydream about absurd alternatives. Recently I strongly considered moving to Peru and raising alpacas (check my internet searches if you want proof). I've figured out how little you can live on in the Far East and in South America and have started packing my bags. I've asked friends with new children if they're looking for a nanny. Not only do none of these things require a JD, they don't require a college degree, or really even a high school diploma. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. 

Plus, the sadder reality is that in this post-recession wasteland, even if you are fully willing to work for hugs - and quite honestly, I could use a job that pays me in hugs after the last few years of mistreatment and abuse - those jobs are hard to find and harder still to land. Of all the things in the world that don't make sense, there is a "problem" of being overqualified that is truly quite maddening. So it turns out you are overqualified for some things and yet not even close to qualified for most others, and so this feeling of being trapped starts to break you down into a position of submissive, subordinate slave as you try to sell your JD on Ebay. (I've seen craigslist ads, I did not make this up).

I hear virtual strangers discussing their plans for law school and I yell "Don't do it!" I don't even have to be part of the conversation to chime in with this unsolicited advice. I leap over subway turnstiles to knock applications out of some poor, unassuming fool's hands. (Of course I don't actually do that, mostly because people apply online, but I also recognize such an act would be illegal.  Though in that case, what's the worst that could happen? I'd get disbarred?...and then I couldn't be a lawyer anymore? Shame.) I consider it my duty, perhaps my new life calling, to inform people of the error of their ways, the way I wish people had warned me (I'm certain people warned me, attorneys are a stubborn breed). It is fairly common knowledge that attorneys abuse drugs and alcohol more than almost any other profession (although pilots notably are pretty high on the list too, so keep that in mind next time you're gearing up for a long flight) and depression runs rampant in the profession, and yet every year more and more people take the LSATs, every year more and more people go to law school, every year more and more people join our ranks and only then do they realize (first that there are no jobs to be had and then) this wasn't what they signed up for. Propaganda at its finest. So this is my attempt at being a good samaritan, to save you from making a potentially devastating decision, I'm selfless like that. And, I require nothing in return....unless, of course, you'd like to send me a tip which I can apply to my mountain of law school loans. You know, pay it forward, folks.