The day I quit law school. 


Let's talk about that mystical act of attrition or dark sick impulse. You know the day, I quit law school. "Woe betide the girl with no degree", they said. "What is she going to do now?", they pondered. Ah, the sorrow; the despair! Bah!

Let me tell you something. It felt damn good. I particularly enjoyed the air of deliberation with which I did it. I mean, we are joking, but if you think about what it represents, it's anarchy! "Undermine their pompous authority", Sid Vicious shrieks. And what authority, exactly? Refusing to add together small percentages of irritating lameness? Well, fuck you.

So, I caused maximum inconvenience. I thought about what I did all week. And then I took methodical pleasure and fell into the creative world. Which naturally, caused even further bewilderment. Art is death!

But anyway. For three years at UCA, I've learned to do two things. First, was to go out and interview people. Of course, I came across cretinous creeps and other godawful, wretched, worthless, unnerving morons with equal portions of obnoxiousness.
But the second thing I had to do – and the most important one – was to go home and pour out my emotions. You see, writing is about feeling, love, anger, joy, fear, hope, lust. I am not going to lie. It took some time to figure out the mechanics of journalism, but I had finally found the insurrection I longed for. 

That's the ultimate message here. Quit if you hate what you are already doing and search for what you truly love. Sure, the implications are terrible (for a week, maybe). But not worse than the mere sight of your personal sadness being constantly reflected on every surface. And as for the pitiless judgment, well, talent and the success and happiness that come with it, undermine pompous authority.