While chatting on the phone the other day, I found myself in a humorous argument over which of us sounded more like an attorney that ended up with my admission of previously considering a career in law. I chose literature for my B.A. because I love it, and knew that the grades obtained would get me into law school.

Earning that degree was wonderful, the courses were interesting, my professors were eccentric and fellow students were diverse. I was kind of depressed when I actually graduated. There I was, with the gpa and lsat scores, signed up with lsac, paid lots of fees, should have been ready to go. But I wasn't. The applications piled up, colorful with pictures of beautiful campuses and happy students. Sometimes I'd start to fill one out but mostly the pile just loomed at me from the corner of my desk. I had cold feet, so the shake myself out of it I found the "best" paralegal degree in my area and signed up for that.

At first it was ok, the classes were pretty basic, memorize stuff and take tests no biggie. The instructors were all attorneys and we asked lots of those legal questions one wonders about but never really knows the answers to (bad sentence, I know). Then came the course in Legal Research. Suddenly the only students in class were the people specifically earning a paralegal degree- that means 90% women, and the crusty old circuit judge the taught it.

If literature is a wild jungle of ideas, emotions and experiences, a groaning buffet table from Medieval Times with food piled high on everyone's plate and glasses overflowing with wine and a handsome man next to you slyly groping your thigh, then Legal Research is sitting on the floor in the corner of a cold empty jail cell with a piece of stale melba toast in your mouth. I was sliding into an intellectual coma that deepened with every hour in the law library.

Thinking I might already be dead and in Hell for all of the bad things I'd done, I figured I might as well jump of out a plane and find out. It was amazing. I never went back to class.