When Dreams are Calling (12 page)

“If you had to wait that long, clearly they’re
not that great! OK,
OK, we’ll go.”

And so, we went.

Aussies are a peaceful nation. To give you an
example, when the government
introduced the famous carbon tax just after announcing another tax,
they talked
about it for a day or two. Then, everything became a thing of the past.

But, when the footie final is on, everyone goes
a bit cuckoo. The
streets and  the highways are packed.

The time when we went there made no exception.

“We have the best seats. I paid a fortune for
them!” he exclaimed.

“Uh, baby, I am so excited!” I made fun of him.

Making a long face, he scolded me:

“One day, you’ll get it! And that day, you’ll
become a true Aussie!”
 

“Then, I guess I’d better try my best today!”

When the team’s theme song started, all fans
stood up and sang: “
See
the Bombers Fly Up!”

I had never seen my boyfriend more proud of me
than on that day. I
was becoming an Aussie.

What I loved the most about the Australians and
their footie fetish was
that once at the stadium, the supporters of both teams formed quite a
happy,
passionate choir. You might find yourself chanting for one team, while
the guy
next to you chants for the other one. If this happens, all you have to
do is to
scream louder. Other than that, no worries mate, you’ll be safe.

After devoting all their energy to
the game, no wonder they are
exhausted and all the other activities, from sex to work and from work
to sex
are pursued slowly, but surely.

Beside footie, indulgence in beverages of an
alcoholic nature is
another Australian favorite way of passing time. Friday’s drinks are
the
highlight of any workplace, a merry time of socializing, vocalizing,
promoting
and demoting each and every one. And when an Aussie drinks, he drinks:
bottle
after bottle, the beer seems to go down faster than any other liquid
might dare
to try.

After five, six to ten bottles and no breaks in
between, you might
think your boyfriend might be a bit tipsy. Indeed he might be, just as
you say,
a bit tipsy and ready for the next round.

The women are not much better or much worse,
depending on how you
look at it. They might prefer some liquor, Irish cream, or other sweet
beverages, but that will be all the difference.

Other than that, life in Melbourne can be as
boring or as exciting
as you fancy.

Just make sure you get used to the English
humor, or the lack of it.

21
A Lawyer’s Choice: When Passion Turns Into Obsession

Mirror,
mirror on the wall

What
should I be famous for?

Be
a lawyer, here she goes!

What?
A lawyer ? No, that’s gross.

Be
a judge, if you insist!

Better
an actor, if you persist.

Be
a writer then, you silly!

To
die hungry, young, and pretty?

Be
a lawyer, as I say: once, twice, sold!

Have
it your way!

When
it comes to law school, ever since my
parents claimed being a lawyer is the security blanket for a bright
future, I’ve
always wondered whether they could be right. My heart was telling me
that
working as a lawyer is not what would make me happy. But my mind could
not find
the reasons behind it and always struggled with my decision of aborting
the
plan and start a different career from scratch. Without some clear
proof that
it was not for me, turning my back to law seemed to be a bit like
coitus
interruptus
, pulling out while you’d still want to be in.

So, when my former Canadian employers who were
like a family to me,
insisted on paying for my university, I happily enrolled at the second
largest
university in Australia, to become what is pompously called Juris
Doctor or
simply said Doctor of Law or even simpler than that, “another” lawyer.

“Luckily, there are only two legal systems in
the world, the civil
law system and the common law system. Otherwise, who knows how many law
degrees
I will end up pursuing,” I said to Robert over a phone conversation.

“Wrong! You forgot the religious law,” he
jumped.

“Something tells me the black nun's outfit
won’t suit me.”

“Uh baby! Why not? Are you a sinner?”

“I’m not a saint. Let’s leave at that.”

“As you wish, Sister Dora.”

“Sister
Superior
Dora,
per favore
.”

We both laughed. I was happy. Going to law
school, again, was
another longtime dream. It felt a bit like joining the intelligence
club,
la
creme de la crème
of society, a safe bet for a good life.

And now, after five years of humiliations,
disappointments, and
moments of despair, it was finally coming true.

However, after the first few months, I realized
that law school was
not how I imagined it to be. It wasn’t a happy, merry place, where I
would rub
elbows with wonderful, educated, and smart people.

Most of the teachers were eager to go home
sooner rather than later,
with no incentive to do what they were doing other than money. Some of
my
colleagues were still learning how to spell, while others were moving
on to the
next phase: fighting against depression. Depression seemed to go hand
in hand
with tons of mandatory reading, assignments and case studies, all done
in the
solitude of your own house. Whether one was willing to recognize it or
not,
depression was more like the norm, rather than the exception.

I wasn’t too much of a happy camper either.
After spending day after
day at my desk with boring thick books, cutting all the ties with the
outside
world, the blues started to practice their courtship rituals on me too.
I
became exhausted and frustrated.

What law school did to most of us was quite a
balancing act: while
gaining weight, we were losing friends, while learning abstract
concepts we were
losing the practicality behind it, and while gaining a title to hang on
the
wall, we were losing ourselves. This was academically called the
selection
process.

Some of us, feeling that law was taking over
their lives, did
themselves justice by getting a life. The rest of us thought they were
losers.

Others continued their ascent to peaks of
solitude and merit and
were labeled as ambitious. I was part of those latter ones.

All of us hoped, once we would finish law
school, we would be out of
the woods. The end of law school was seen as a finish line which once
crossed would
lead us to a glamorous, highly paid career, where law, order, and
respect prevailed.

This kept all of us going, including myself.

After three long years of compromises and
deceptions, I graduated
with high distinction. I was a Juris Doctor, a doctor of law, a lawyer
in Australia. Another impossible dream came true.

Still, I was neither happier, nor smarter than
before. If anything,
I was sad and tired. Once again, the only thing I lacked during all the
years
of law school was enthusiasm and, at the end, the only thing I was not
getting
out of it was happiness.

For my weekly session of emotional therapy, to
take off my chest
whatever was crushing my heart, I called Robert.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he asked, guessing by
the sound of my voice
that I’d had better days.

“Not much,” I replied, aware of how silly it
sounded to complain
about accomplishing something I wanted so badly to happen.

“You mean, not much is right? C’mon, open up!
Women do not snore,
burp, sweat, or pass gas. Therefore, they must bitch or they will blow
up. Remember?”

“To blow up would not be good, but some
bitching on the other hand
wouldn’t hurt.”

“That’s my girl. So, what’s wrong, eh? Didn’t
you find the perfect
job that lets you stay at home while paying you top bucks?” he laughed.

“I didn’t look for it. Maybe I should. Now
seriously, I’m not that
naïve. But, after graduating with high distinction the second best
university
in Australia, I did expect to be snapped right away by law firms,
offered a
position, a decent salary to start with, and a work-life balance.
Wouldn’t you?”

“And what’s happening instead?”

“Every law firm I applied to, and trust me,
there were tons of them,
is asking me to put my life on hold for another two to three years, get
paid
less or the same as any sales person at the grocery store, and work
twice as
much in the hope that one day I will reap the rewards deserved. All for
being
called a lawyer. Sorry, a junior lawyer. And it’s only the tip of the
iceberg. Others
ask you to work for free, so you can gain experience. It’s called a
training
program.”

“Sounds familiar. Remember that job you had at
the bakery store,
selling cakes? I know what happened after the training period was over:
another
one started.”

“Exactly. It’s not fair.”

“I remember reading this somewhere: ‘If you
expect the world to be
fair with you because you are fair, you are fooling yourself. That’s
like
expecting a lion not to eat you because you did not eat him.’ Anyway,
aren’t
lawyers supposed to be rich?”

“Supposed to be, yes; really be, no. Truth be
told, for one lawyer
partner who buys a BMW, twenty other junior lawyers are working very
hard. At
the end of the day most lawyers are neither rich nor famous, but just
make an honorable
living after working hard for their whole lives.”

“That’s tough. But you’ve never been a money
chaser, sweetie. And
even though it’s an issue, is it the only one?”

“There’s something else. I thought, once I’ll
be done with the uni, I’ll
have a schedule like everyone else: work for eight hours per day, come
home,
relax, the usual stuff. But no, to make it as a lawyer, I’d have to
work ten to
twelve hours per day, come rain or shine. Forget about taking more than
four
weeks per year off and even those in small chunks.”

“Sounds like fun!”

“With this kind of schedule, I’ll probably
never get married, and if
I will, I’ll get divorced in no time. Those people are working
machines. Woody
Allen was right, ‘Some men are heterosexual, some are bisexual, and
some men do
not think about sex at all; they become lawyers
.’
”

“Maybe. Although, technically speaking, even as
a lawyer you can
think of sex all day long. You just won’t get the time to practice it.”

“Stop making fun; it’s a serious matter.”

“Phew! You tell me how serious it is, eh? Sex,
no sex, the clock is
ticking.”

“I remember seeing a French movie once. The guy
said, ‘
ma femme,
tous les autres
…’”

“Translation, please?”

“My wife, or all the rest. He could not pick
one over the others.”

“Or the choice was too obvious.”

“The idea is the same with law: law or sex, sex
or law. It’s almost
like you’d have to choose.”

“Choose? I know a lot of women who live just
fine without being
lawyers. But without sex? Phew! They all go nuts! No offense.”

“None taken.”

“It sounds like as a lawyer your work days will
be too long for just
one life. On the other hand, I dare to say, you know from your own life
there
are people out there working night and day for even a lesser amount of
money than
a lawyer makes and with no prospects whatsoever. Also, divorce is not a
trademark for lawyers. It’s such a widespread phenomenon then when it’s
happening to you, it’s difficult to come up with a different set of
reasons
other than your friends have. So, I might not throw this last aspect
into the
equation.”

“It’s just that working long hours, putting up
with all those
clients who blame you instead of trying to change the system, hoping
someday it
will all be worth it, is not my dream.”

“But it’s what being a lawyer means. And you
wanted to be a lawyer.
Quod
erat demonstrandum.
It’s
your
dream. So, maybe next time, before wantin’ something to happen, you
should make
sure you know what it involves.”

“Stereotyping and assuming: one step further
towards ignorance. I
guess this is what I’ve done.”

“Yep. The highest form of ignorance is having
firm convictions about
something you only have ideas of.”

“True. All those years, I ignored everything
around me and focused
all my efforts into only one direction: law school. There was no life
beyond
law and I didn’t want to achieve anything else other than becoming a
lawyer.”

“It was a risky investment. And like every
other risky investment,
it could yield higher profits or drive you straight into the ground.
You placed
all the bets on one card knowing you’re a poor loser, sweetie.”

“And this was wrong.”

“Yes, it was. But you had to do it. There was
no other way for you
to find out. You wouldn’t have listened to anyone. The universe tried
to stop
you so many times; it gave you so many signs. But, you’re as stubborn
as you’re
beautiful. Maybe next time you should try to be more generous with your
passion,
and sprinkle some into all areas of your life.”

“You’re right. Each time I was close
of working as a lawyer,
something intervened and my life changed again, always for the better.
Each
refusal I got, it was a blessing in disguise. But how could I not see
it? I
wasted so much time, money, and effort.”

“Go easy on yourself. We all see what we wanna
see. Plus, when the
reality hits, the reasons behind it are less important. What will you
do next
is all that matters. Maybe it’s time for you to finally accept who you
are,
what you truly want out of life and go for it.”

“Maybe…I don’t know. I’m confused. I feel lost,
unappreciated,
cheated, and all the other ‘goodies’ put together.”

“What about your ego?”

“He’s the only winner. He got what he wanted.
My ego is fed, but I’m
fed up with it.”

“That’s a positive start.”

“I haven’t told you yet. Not quite everyone
turned a blind eye to my
legal knowledge, outstanding results and two highly revered diplomas. I
was
accepted into a prestigious program in private international law in The
Hague. I might just go for it.”

“Wow! Somebody does not give up, eh?”

“It’s so hard to give up on something you hold
onto for so long. In
a way it becomes part of you.”

“So does a gangrene.”

“I know, but it’s hard to know when to stop,
when to give up, when
the fight is over. You get accustomed to suffering more than you get
accustomed
to jump.”

“Is that how a winner talks?”

“No, I guess not. I guess a winner will always
choose to jump than
to die on a sinking ship. Maybe I’m not a winner after all.”

“Or maybe you just don’t know it yet. But you
will, sooner or later.
Sooner being the preferred choice. Just go with the flow and watch for
the
signs. You’ve always done it this way.”

“How can I ever thank you for always being
there for me?”

“Having confidence in yourself will be a good
start. Now, go! The dreams
are callin’…”

“Have a good night or whatever is left of it. I
am sorry for keeping
you so long on the phone,” I said realizing in Canada it must have been
past midnight.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get enough sleep when I’ll
be six feet under. It
was time well wasted.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, sweetie.”

Dora’s
Journal Notes 

• Life is the
  toughest teacher: we cannot
  skip a lesson and still pass.
  
• Pouring all your
  passion into only one
  area of your life is a bit like playing the Russian roulette. If you
  cannot
  stand to lose everything, then it is wrong for you to play it.
  
• Same as marriage
  does not make one in
  love or riches does not make one happy, school does not make one
  smarter.
  
• Nobody likes
  lawyers, but everyone
  feels they should be the judge.