Don't Stand So Close To Me

What's the difference between being an introvert and being an extrovert? 

Introversion and extraversion have zero to do with shyness, outgoingness, sociability and the like, and everything to do with how you recharge your batteries. Introverts get off from solitude and personal down time while extroverts are energized by groups and interactions.  

As an introvert, it's sometimes easy to forget that when an extrovert engages me in what I'd consider to be a needless conversation—which is anything more personal than 'Sinkhole swallowed up Metro Center' or 'Hey watch out for that chemical spill over there'—they aren't being needy weirdos out to drain my time, energy, or patience, they're simply conducting their energetic equivalent of stopping at the gas station.

Me: Oh god, here comes Carol. Time for another two hour conversation about her awful life. Dear Lord, let her skin rash have cleared up. "Carol, Hi."

Carol: I'm a terrible person! You're strange for not wanting to hang out with me! "Hey, does this rash look weird to you?" 

And in fairness to Carol, for someone who not only needs, but also truly enjoys socially engaging, talking to a cranky introvert would be like torture.  

Deby: I hate people. I can't use my words. "Carol, Hi."

Carol: Oh god, there's Deby. I have to talk to her we work together, and I hear she's getting promoted. Shit, what do I say to her, she barely responds. Fuck, it's not like talking to me for ten minutes will kill her. Should I mention my rash? Why would I even think that? Don't mention your rash! "Hey, does this rash look weird to you?" 

But, as Susan Cain notes, it's an extrovert's world. So with the deck stacked against us, introverts shouldn't feel ashamed if they need to use The Police's immoral words, don't stand so close to me.

I'm here

"I used to think I was the strangest person in the world but then I thought there are so many people in the world, there must be someone just like me who feels bizarre and flawed in the same ways I do. I would imagine her, and imagine that she must be out there thinking of me too. Well, I hope that if you are out there and read this and know that, yes, it's true I'm here, and I'm just as strange as you." ~ Frida Kahlo

Biglaw is Dead - Part II

Let me tell you what terrifies me the most about my biglaw job. I'm paid a certain salary — closer to 100 John Willards than 50 — to shovel smoke. Now, if this sounds like a job that only exists after you've eaten a batch of Space Cake that me and my friends bought that one time in Amsterdam, you'd be more right than wrong. And in terms of career longevity, there's only so much smoke left in the industry. 

Calvin would make a good litigator

Biglaw was once a glittering celebrity. And like any A-lister, it built an extensive entourage. You have Biglaw Lit Support, Biglaw Office Services, Biglaw Secretarial Support, Biglaw Special Services, Biglaw Administration and Human Resources, Biglaw Recruiting, Biglaw Marketing, Biglaw IT. Heck, Biglaw even has its own codependent friend Noreen, delivering "valid" industry critique straight from the bushes outside its back window.

But make a wish kids, it's a falling star. 

One day [2008] companies simply asked themselves "Why would we pay these lawyers over here $1,000 an hour, when those lawyers over there cost $500 an hour and are just as good, better even!"  

And just like that, the townspeople saw: Biglaw has no clothes!

to be continued 

Stopping By

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep.
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

~Robert Frost, Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening