On Spring Vibes

Whoo, so much for trying to be consistent. In my defense (to the void) there is a significant amount of stuff going on at work, and with some of our senior folks leaving for the green pastures of multimillion (tbh at this point its multibillion, damn capitalism working as god intended) dollar firms, the reshuffling, big ticket things, and random fires have a fervor unlike anything I've seen before. Super interesting stuff, thankful that I'm helping out on meaningful things, happy that it's fulfilling, good that some of it is public, all of that blah blah blah, it's busy folks.

But. Let's take back a bit of time and see what's cooking. Today, I want to write about something that I've gabbed with friends and close colleagues about for what has to be years now - my reflections on springtime. Now, this could go any number of ways. I could talk about the weather, I could talk about the new flowers and leaves (and weeds, fuck the weeds man) sprouting up around the neighborhood, people getting more uppity to be outside, etc etc, and yeah I guess that's all relevant for springtime, but not what's on my mind.

The thing that I'm getting at is a bit less concrete - springtime as a vibe. And the vibe I've been most interested in is springtime as a set of realizations, reminders, and feelings unique to this time of year. Why these specific musings?

It's because it's commencement season. For the uninitiated (and really it shouldn't come as a surprise), I have always loved school and the idea of schooling. The pure pursuit of learning, being surrounded by a properly insane mix of brilliance and stupidity, finding your niche, and at base finding what it is that makes you tick inside and outside the classroom stands as one of the great memories and milestones of my life. Indeed, if I wasn't so pressed to, you know, pay bills, I would have dove headfirst into being a professor (shouts to my incredibly lucky classmates who actually did that - god damn you guys, what a life).

Anyway - the consumation of all that effort, all that discovery, the season of commencement, has always been a very special time of year for me (sue me), and usually results in me thinking a bit more wistfully than I usually do. In some ways a lot of the vibe I'm trying to put into words is pure sentiment, excess romanticism. The faces of elation of closing one chapter and opening another, the burst of the pinnacle of youth before the stupendous fall of adulthood, the photographs, the regalia, the pomp and circumstance, the pantomime and pageantry - I simply cannot get enough, and I am lucky that I've been able to enmesh myself in many commencements - both my own, and those of my friends and family.

In another way, and perhaps what is more to the point, the vibe also represents a view toward the unknown - what I mean by realizations, reminders, and feelings. The example that comes to mind is perhaps unique to my line of work, and how it stacks up with that of my colleagues with a different kind of "D" after their name. For us lawyers, commencement (and really the years of law school as a singular experience) is a representation of the next chapter, a start toward the bar, that first job, that first time you get a chance to prove you're a grown up. For me and many of my peers, that all centered around biglaw - becoming corporate sharks, prowling the mean streets of DC, NYC, Chicago, LA, Miami, Austin, Toronto, etc, closing deals, popping off demand letters, standing up in federal court and playing our best unflappable selves (god how insufferable we must have been - but has anything really changed lol). For others, it was about doing justice - defending the little guy, or more often than not going after the bad guy (who also happened to usually be the little guy). Perhaps more noble pursuits, but tinged with that cloying badge of authority, the aura of importance.

The comparison (and I promise I'll get to the point here, dear void), and what more often than not brought me to a point of poignancy, was what I saw both with my peers who decided to do the real doctor thing and devote their lives to saving lives. The MDs in my life are suspiciously plentiful - my very first love from those days when I didn't even know what kind of person I wanted to be is now a prominent attending physician in a hospital that is affiliated with that one famous school in Boston (yeah, that one), and even my peers in my current circles who went the MD route have done exceptionally well for themselves - wait, am I the odd one out? They're helping people and I...well I guess made the rich guys and gals of the world just a bit richer. Fuck.

Anyway. The thrust of their lives is what I'm focused on. Take for instance match day for MDs - the day where medical school kids, after decades of hard work, sweat, tears, boundless insecurity, and constant ironborn perseverance, find out where they will spend the next four years post grad as resident physicians (yes, just like Scrubs or House, but also 1000% not like that). Every school memorializes that day - livestreams of the reveal, interviews with students, countless photos of students, their families, their loved ones, their children (!) in still moments of pure, often tearful joy at this next chapter. I matched in orthopedic surgery at UChicago. I matched in internal medicine at Baylor. I matched in cardiology at Columbia (wink wink to the A+E readers, can't stop won't stop). Even my mother, a physician in her own right, recalls the day she matched - an event she described to me as one of the happiest and scariest days of her life, one that established the start of a long and fulfilling career in the service of others.

Now. Why bring this up? I'm not a doctor (or at least not that kind of doctor), why would I care about what my well-heeled peers get to do? Don't I have better things to do?

Well, that's exactly it, no? Better things to do. I share this because for years, my predictably slime person attitude was all about the flair and spectacle - god damn, I love the forest green of your Harvard divinity loops signifying you're now a hot shit MD. Fuck me, your Stanford overcoat gown with the green inlay makes you look like a fearsome yet benevolent medical wizard, a young Yen Sid with a penchant for healing. That hospital you're going to is legendary, isn't that one super famous doctor there who did this and that. Never did I give a real substantive thought to what that all really meant, once the spectacle wrapped, the gowns and trappings packed away, the photos developed and framed, the memories faded into those clouds in the deep crevasses of our brain.

Why is that? Simple - for me and my closest cadre, none of us had any inkling about the pursuit of helping people. We were excited about being unreasonably compensated in all the right ways, wining and dining, getting suited up to fuck shit up, being young and reckless and meme-worthy but still rocking it. Respectable drive for a young lawyer maybe, but...just tinged with something that I can only describe as a sad shallowness. Not even the promise of pro bono work (which none of us did btw - we were too busy helping rich folks get richer) was enticing enough to convince us otherwise, or even pretend we could enlighten ourselves in a meaningful way.

Tying it up, what is the point here? Did I get lost again?

No, not really. The point is that during this time of emergence, of new beginnings, I am always reminded of what my beginning was, and how...truly fruitless it was in practice. How excited I was to be important, and how quickly I realized how unimportant I was, even amid the trappings and corridors where I knew important things (including important things I did!) were happening. Meanwhile, my peers who went another route, one more noble, whether it was to do justice, or to really help people - to hone their craft, ease suffering, be meaningful, had begun in earnest. Maybe I had a lovely office, incredibly quippy coworkers who I trusted and swore by as a result of deep trauma bonding during shit work weeks (of which there were so, so many lol), maybe I was objectively wealthy, but...

I just...didn't think I'd realize so quickly how little that all meant. How much it affected me, changed me, made me into someone I didn't like, someone my now-wife resented?

What could have been if I had been smarter, more willing to let my talent be in the service of actually deserving people. If I had been brave enough to do something that wasn't solely focused on the flair of it all.

That, dear void, is the point. Why I do what I do now, why I have committed myself to helping others (because yes, I do work for you after all), not only to better myself, but perhaps to convince myself that I can remedy what time I wasted trying to be a shill. Every year, I remind myself that this is why it (work?) matters, why I matter, why this pursuit of mine, my love of what I do day in and day out is and always will be worth it. It has to, after all.

Why would anyone in their right mind be a lawyer if it wasn't truly meaningful?

Springtime vibes indeed. Cheers, folks.

friday thoughts

busy week, lots of moving parts, but we'll keep this train rolling. for a long time, probably for as long as i can remember, i've always put a priority on work. not so much work for work's sake, but work as the single best tool to transform yourself, your skills, your perspective, your everything, into something you can be proud of. i guess you can call it a value, maybe an aspiration, even a hope of mine, to be someone i can be proud of because of what i've done, what i know i can do.

i suppose that attitude is one that is only really harnessed in a place like DC (sorry NYC, I'll get to you another time) - oftentimes i feel young people here pad around our little rhomboid city, waxing poetic to nobody and everybody about the proximity to power, how they wish to be "there" where "things" happen, without really knowing where "there" is or what those "things" are.

obviously anyone can take a stab at it - that unassuming office on the corner is a thinktank that writes legislative proposals for billion-dollar (trillion-dollar?) drug pricing. that glass box employs a lawyer who used to be the attorney general of the united states who now likes to fight against the current attorney general of the united states. that concrete monstrosity has a secret court inside of it that prints authorizations for domestic surveillance like an insipid, cloaked xerox machine of horrors gilded by laws born of overt fear. that other concrete monstrosity houses a collection of folks who like to point fingers and exclaim virtues (sweet nothings?) that nobody really cares to understand.

are all of these examples (real or imagined, you decide) the "there[s]" where "things" happen? probably, and i'd agree for the most part. important "things" abound in DC, and they take place everywhere. and there are plenty of people here who do wield influence (again, real or imagined, you decide).

but to me, the real work, the real impacts, the efforts that go into keeping the gears running and the sun (metaphorically) shining? i'd say all of that is largely unseen and unnoticed, unbound to a "there" or a "thing" that you can readily sense, and acknowledged only with silent nods, handshakes, and pats on the back in unmarked hallways and conference rooms.

maybe that's a bit dramatic, and maybe the folks that staff those "theres" and figure out those "things" would scoff if any of them ever read this - what do you mean? cogs are cogs, work is work, keep your head down and keep on keeping on, collect that $$$, blah blah.

i get it. i was there once. its nice, its comfortable, its equal parts pleasure and pain, and the suit options are fan-fucking-tastic. i argue (maybe facetiously - look at me, i'm writing to the void on tumblr in 2024) there's something more to it than that. i started this drivel with a sentence or three on work as a virtue, and i suppose my point in all of this is that working to work is useful, but there has to be something more to it to make it last - to make it meaningful to you. something noble, something exciting, something intangible. call it inspiration, call it...well, a calling to something bigger than yourself. that's what transforms the cog into something...i don't know, different. there's a beauty to that, i think. makes what can be dull just a little bit brighter.

why all that for that simple revelation - finding meaning in your work can be a good thing, big whoop.

the thing is, i'm just now learning how important that is. how much it means to me. and how much i treasure the moments where I can appreciate not just the product of one's meaningful work, but what that meaning is, and putting it to words instead of letting those moments fade to hazy memory. law is not always a creative endeavor, and oftentimes rocking the boat is discouraged (what if you destroy the fabric of society!?). but to find my moments of meaning, and to have a chance to see, revel, and reflect on + in other people and their work - nonlawyers especially, the ones who write with their hearts, minds, souls, and imaginations - is something i will never fail to tip my hat to and offer my sincerest thanks and praise. you all better yourselves every day (even if you don't know it).

anyway. that's a long way of saying something, i don't even know what. back to it for now, that whole work thing. one day we'll be better, hopefully, maybe. cheers, folks.

wow.

here we are. last post was...eight years ago? what was going on then - the first winter post-undergrad, the beginnings of what the next steps would be, probably a lot of procrastination and coffee and aimless walks and endless uncertainties unique to being 21 (22?) around DC. i had mountains of love for Agents of Shield (still do!) and all the fandoms surrounding Marvel's golden era (still do?).

now, maybe more than one lifetime later, things are different. i have a few more expensive pieces of paper gathering dust on my wall. my mind is flush with memories of purple-hued graduation robes, supreme ambitions, despondent late night phone calls about why I decided to place justice as the keystone to my future, the tribulations and elations of that final cursed exam with my friends (colleagues!) across the country, and the early days of my career sartorially seated on one of many glass thrones in the city, watching the world pass by in between emails, stacks of books, and one too many note pads.

now, life is a bit quieter - the suburbs will do that to you. and while i get lots of platitudes about work now being about serving and protecting others (yes reader, that means you - I in fact work for you, even if you'll never know how), I'd be lying if I said that all of that has brought me only peace. there's a lot more things to think about, a lot more people that depend on me, and a lot more responsibility.

[and a lot of frozen stuff, can't really explain that one but whatever, life's too short to conceal + not (don't?) feel, and I generally think we as lawyers collectively need some thawing of (many) frozen hearts. shouts to all the frozen fans and shippers and writers, well done all of you.]

and yet. amid all this, there is a distinct humdrum in my everyday, a nice switchup from those early years endlessly wishing that I could just have nothing to do as the emails flooded in and the realities of sitting in a glass throne began to crystallize. maybe thats adulthood's existential dread masking itself to make it more palatable, who knows. but as long as the humdrum keeps on, why not harness it. take back a few things that for years I stored away, in pursuit of something more...noble? respected? intellectual? stable?

anyway. one of my resolutions this year was to think less and write more. not really sure what I meant by that, but looking back at that note from only a month ago, I think I'm trying to get myself to open up the gates, put thoughts to paper, and not worry about the minutiae of it all. after all, what if it's just me that reads these back? doesn't make it any less real or impactful.

they say to write even if you don't have anything to say. to me, i think there is always something to say, always something to share, and its up to us (me?) to breathe life into those somethings. if that's true, well, here's what I have for today. cheers, folks.

done!

so a while back I wrote a little FitzSkye thing (or I guess it’d be FitzDaisy too, huh) involving laundry, and now it’s all done. 

hopefully its as fun to read as it was to write. :)

He relented his hug, leaving his hands on her shoulders. They met eyes again, both of them still sharing in the feeling of the moment. Skye smiled the biggest smile she could as she came closer to Fitz, locking him in an embrace of her own. She rested her head in the crook of his neck, feeling his soft skin on her cheek. Closing her eyes, she tightened her embrace around him.

check it on the AO3

Jemma: The stars are beautiful

Fitz: Yea, they are

Jemma: You know who else is beautiful?

Fitz: *blushes* Who?

Jemma: Skye! Daisy. Sorry.

na-na-new

hi tumblr! in the midst of this bipolar DMV weather and going crazy over how strangely frustrating it is to flounder into law school, here’s something I whipped up after *a lot* of SVU and Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

The Met - a Skimmons Detective story.

She smiled at Jemma. That damn smile. She couldn’t stay mad at that, not even for a second. Exhaling the last bits of her anger away, Jemma relented. Holstering her gun, she pulled Skye by the coat closer to her.

“I know. But…you make me worry sometimes.” she said, finishing with a kiss planted right on Skye’s forehead. 

They parted, the two of them admiring the small moment they’d just shared. The sounds of police sirens began to fade in from the distance. Taking a step back, Jemma pulled out a pair of handcuffs and offered them to Skye.

“Care to bag your perp before the Met gets here? I’m sure you can tell Chief Coulson all about how you took care of this urchin back at the station.”

check it on the AO3

aka Leopold Fitz loves Jemma Simmons too much

You thought I was just Holt’s lackey. And you thought I was just Jake’s girlfriend. Well, I’m my own person, capable of making my own decisions, and I decided to humiliate you both.

(insp.)

the most accurate description of working in customer service

so it is forgivable, my friend 

requested by tinyscienceangels

I usually don’t do reposts like this but the world must know.

the ever-lovely Chloe Bennet and S3’s Daisy Johnson ‘do.

Pictures of Chloe’s new haircut! (x)

friends turned lovers is literally my favorite trope - like, all other tropes can go home.

give me shared inside jokes that date back to wayyyyy before a first kiss was ever shared. give me living together with separate bedrooms until one of them gradually becomes unnecessary. give me confused reactions from people who already assumed the two of them were dating. give me arguments over what counts as an anniversary because should we start at the date we met or the date we became friends or the date we got over our stupid selves and finally started kissing?

give me stories that show the line between friends and lovers is a really, really thin one - that appreciating the friendship that two characters share doesn’t mean you can’t ship them really damn hard too. that you can keep all the awesome friends-being-assholes-to-each-other stuff and add on all the shippy stuff to get something extra special awesome.

give me all of that.

Agents of S.A.S.S.