Seven years ago, like all spirited young college graduates, I felt my education was an unique contribution and one that society would immediately recognize and compensate accordingly. Three weeks later, I realized that my BA in English was the economic equivalent of Monopoly money and with $60,000 in student loan debt, there was little more I could do with it than die of starvation. But where could I find a financial future with quelled standards and a limited skill set?
Something like half of the population of DC are transplants. I can't speak for everyone, but I didn't come here for the fantastic winters, effortless commutes, or that special sweet talk I get from Stabby the homeless guy who lives outside of Farragut North.
And while the DC ratio of lawyers to, let's say, mathematicians, is slightly unbalanced, it still deserves a hat tip as one of the most economically and politically relevant cities around. Not just because it's the Capital—I mean, look at Islamabad or Ottawa—instead it's like the entire city keeps itself from sinking into its swampy foundation by sheer will or ego alone.
It could be the exact environment for my own big dreams: that one day I can support my entire family with a thriving career, a savvy investment, or the court settlement money from a congressman linked to my disappearance.