Hello Again

 Hi!

 

Its the end of 2024 somehow, and I'm working on our family's Christmas cards. Is it awfully late to be working on those? It feels like it, to me. I've been doing this new thing I call of "getting paid for my hard work". Note: working is not new. I have been working harder than I've ever worked before as a mother and the spouse who keeps it all going, but that work is paid lip service at best (at worst it is disrespected, disparaged, and downright punished). Getting paid is new. 

Hi, universe, I see you. As I'm writing this, from the downstairs came Frank Sinatra's voice singing "round yon virgin mother & child," which is weird because I stopped that music twenty minutes ago and have been working in silence since then. I am taking this as a reminder to soften my heart. Message received.

Back to getting paid. 

This year I got my license to teach as a substitute teacher and adopted "Mrs. ZB" as my teacher name. I very quickly connected with a long-time friendly acquaintance whose cancer diagnosis was going to necessitate a great deal of regular absences. I started by filling in for her at summer school teaching art to elementary students. I maintain that this is basically the best job that exists, in case you were considering a career change or side hustle. It's all the fun of normal arts and crafts except with kids who (for the most part) want to be there and you get paid. Wild! As summer changed into fall, it became clear she was going to need some substantial absences from her primary job as an elementary music teacher. That is how I became the regular sometimes-music teacher at Roosevelt Elementary School for the last three and a half months. 

Anyone else see what just happened?

Somehow the universe got me to come all the way back around to where I started, didn't it? I wanted to be a musician for my entire childhood and adolescence. The reality of a musician's life (and some health issues) led me to change paths my final year in college. The need for health insurance (and my handy talent for taking standardized tests) brought me to apply for, and attend law school, of all things. Finally, despite saying I would never, ever be that kind of lawyer, I began a career as a criminal defense attorney. 

I believe I was a really good defense attorney. I accomplished things for my clients that felt like real justice and still make me feel proud. That said, I didn't love the work. It felt hard. Maybe it's because my first boss was a tremendously abusive asshole. Maybe it's because of the pervasive sexism and low-level abuse I experienced as a young female attorney from clients or others in the courthouse. I don't know. But I found the idea of returning to my longtime profession really depressing and overwhelming.

Then this thing happened where both of my kids were at the same school and both still wanted me to be at school with them. At the same time, the schools are facing an enormous need for substitute teachers (and teachers at all, thanks to how shittily they're treated). Because I can never resist consistent, coordinated pressure from my children, I gave in and took a course to become a licensed substitute teacher. And just like that, music became a huge part of my life again. 

It has been like coming back to a part of myself I had given up on, or that I thought I had outgrown. It was like realizing I had an extra life in a video game that I thought I lost at decades ago. In the time since I have worked on all the skills that would make me successful at that game without realizing it, so when I started back up I realized I had everything I needed to succeed. And I realized that I loved this game. Like, LOVED IT, even more than I remember loving it in the past. I loved it in a way that was both intimately familiar and also brand new. I appreciated it in a new, deeper way because of all that I have done since I had quit. 

It feels like awakening as a new person who feels competent and powerful and also just like the real me.

The real me.

Well that is a little scary and a lot unexpected. Thank goodness that all the work I've done on myself with therapy, medications, diagnoses, more medications and more therapy allows me to sit with that scary feeling without needing to escape or panic. I can just notice it. I can wonder what this feeling is, and where it go from here. So I've been doing that. A lot.

The real me. Wow. That's big. 

So anyway, I need to get back to writing a Christmas letter or something, I guess. I'm glad to have been able to take the time to put this into words. 

Cheers,

Kristen

I like Pinterest. Check me out there.

-Kristen

Nirvana

My cat's name is Nirvana. He is a boy, though the name is, at best, gender neutral. Though he belongs to both me and my husband, he really is my cat. We spend the most time together. He answers to me when I call. He learned cool tricks from me. He is at least mostly my cat.

He likes spending time laying on the back of the couch, almost as if he were sitting on my shoulder. When I lean my head back, I can rest it on his body and feel him breathe as he sleeps. When I reach my hand up to stroke his face, his paws flex and kneed in the air while he purrs for just a moment before dropping back into whatever dream he might be dreaming.

On days like today, I can't express how much it means to have him here with me. I can't be alone while I have my cat. I'm so glad Nirvana found me. 

Poetry Day

We Were Never Meant to Survive
by Audre Lourde

For those of us who live at the shoreline
standing upon the constant edges of decision
crucial and alone.

For those of us who were
imprinted with fear like a faint
line in the center of our
foreheads learning to be afraid
with our mother's milk.

For by this weapon,
this illusion of some safety to
be found-
the heavy-footed hoped to silence us.

For all of us
this instant and this triumph-
we were never meant to survive.

And when the sun rises we are
afraid
it might not remain.

When the sun set sets we are afraid
our words will not be heard
nor welcomed.

But when we are silent
we are still afraid.

So it is better to
speak remembering
We were never
meant to survive.

It's June

It's June. About time for me to consider a career change.

I've had my own law firm for just under a year. It has been a very interesting time. I really enjoy making my own hours, taking my own vacation, and not dealing with very, very nasty office politics (and bad bosses). However, I am not enamored of paperwork, finances, and filing. In short, I like being my own lawyer, but not my own secretary. Unfortunately, I have not be profitable enough in my short time out of the box to afford to purchase a secretary, and so I must complete secretarial tasks for the time being.

I am currently experiencing a slow period in my practice. Slow, meaning I have nothing on my court calendar for a week and a half. This has happened before, but generally only when I go on vacation and keep my calendar clear. What I *should* do is use the time to catch up on closing cases. It is my least favorite task to complete as a lawyer. It is dry, time-consuming, and I can't bill for it. What I find myself doing, instead, is contemplating a change in careers.

As a contract attorney for the public defender's office, I am paid about $40 per billed hour. That means for each case I bill between $100 and $600, though sometimes more and sometimes less. I am not working near full-time. I a few private clients because I am new in the area and have not developed a reputation. I am also a young woman, and that works against me. When people think of a good criminal defense attorney, they think of a grizzled man in his prime. They think of Jack Hogue. It will probably take years to build up a private client base.

As a result, I'm bored. I want more work.

Of course, there aren't jobs. There just aren't. The most numerous job postings on the UW Law School list are "Volunteer Opportunities," which is a joke. There are some jobs for litigation attorneys in Milwaukee, which is too far to drive and for which I'm not quite qualified. There are also some postings for experienced patent attorneys and experienced trust and estate attorneys. Three years ago there were more positions for attorneys with three years of experience. Now that I have three years, those positions seem to have dried up. Economy be damned.

I'm wondering if it is possible to carve out a career in law. Am I going about it the right way? What kind of life am I making for myself? Do I care enough to invest years in solo practice just to start to make a reasonable salary?

The answer to the last question is probably not. I made a crucial mistake. I went to law school looking for answers. I thought law school would open up a world of possibilities for me. It really hasn't. It did saddle me with a debt that, if I continue to pay on schedule, I will pay off when my unborn children complete college.

Law school is not a recipe for success, any more than a good cup of coffee (although coffee *is* magic). It will not guarantee a good job. It will not even guarantee a job. It does not bring prestige, membership into secret clubs (except the kinds that cost money and don't do anything for you). A law degree is not the same as happiness.

Fortunately, I'm not the only one who thinks so, and the magic of the internet helps me see that.

So, it's June, and I'm thinking of changing careers to something that makes me feel more employable.

~Kristen

Sunday Morning Haiku

Sunny office chair
Rays of sunlight warming my
Cool wintery skin