First post

First post

It’s a daunting thing writing words that you hope others will read. Particularly when you have to spend several minutes pondering whether it should be ‘its’ or ‘it’s’.

It’s the little things.

In the spirit of a brief spurt of honesty I think I should probably come clean and say I’m not entirely sure what I want this blog to be. Which is probably unwise if you think about things that attract audiences.  Cause I reckon certainty is up there.

But then, if you consider instead the grand puddle of uncertainty that is life, then perhaps it is less surprising that this blog doesn't have a defined purpose. That’s not meant to be deep by the way (not that it would be because well I said puddle, not pool, or Mariana Trench) but rather link directly to my current uncertainty.

About life direction. About purpose. About whether you always have to mix your own colours or whether you can short-cut with those pre-mixed options (I think you can…  but when I do they never quite look right and I’m never sure if that’s because the colour itself is wrong or if its simply filtered through my disappointment in myself that I took the lazy-route…. or indeed that I expect the colour to be wrong and so it is).

I think this applies not just to lemon yellow but also to life paths. 

To the vocations we choose and the trajectories they contain.  Law for example. Yellow ochre that spills out smoothly and flows freely without head of other pigments.

Law School. Clerkship. Top Tier. Rotations. Admission. Settling. Promotion. Senior Associate. Partner.

And of course there’s deviation. People step out for a bit. Go work in New York for a bit. Get cross-contaminated; a splash of conscience red here and they’re working for NGO’s and community legal centres, some pure green there and they’re investment bankers. But it’s really all so clear. So safe.

All it takes is time. 

Time is all you have to give.

But isn’t that actually the most alarming idea? After all time is the only thing you’ll always have had more of yesterday, the only thing you’ll always have less of tomorrow.  It is our own personal fossil fuel. Finite and precious, yet we burn it carelessly for money, for the dreams of further future money and for the hopes of enough wealth that we won’t miss the time we gave away.

When you think of it like that, it seems so incredibly risky.  This safe straight edge choice of mine. This arrow-like progression through professional rungs.

And through it all I can’t shake the knowledge that, despite what I tell myself, what I let myself believe; the best colours must always be mixed.

That the perfect shade is never a first attempt.

So, Dear Reader, I do suppose that will be our quest and the purpose of this little blog.  

Wake up call

Wake up call