Notes from the Breadline: Tangled Up in Blue
Ed. note: Welcome to the latest installment of “Notes from the Breadline,” a column by a laid-off lawyer in New York. Prior columns are collected here. You can reach Roxana St. Thomas by email (at roxanastthomas@gmail.com), follow her on Twitter, or find her on Facebook.
After my 30 Rock-induced crying jag, sleep settles over me for a few precious hours. But in the middle of the night, I wake up suddenly, feeling deeply disoriented. It takes me a moment to realize that I am at T.J.’s, in his roommate’s bed, and when I do I am convinced that it is early December. I sit up, tangled in a cobweb of confusion and fighting the vaguely panicky sense that I have to do my Christmas shopping. After looking out the window, I spend a few baffled seconds wondering what happened to the blanket of snow I expected to see covering the ground.
As the fog of sleep clears, I piece together the evening and realize why I am so confused. The last time I stayed at T.J.’s was before Christmas, the weekend of a huge snowstorm. I remember waking up to find everything buried under cottony snow, the streets silent and empty. T.J. and I bundled up and, charmed by the novelty of playing mountaineer, trekked to the deli on our skis. When I close my eyes, it is December again, and I am immersed in the feeling of suspended reality, the simple pleasure of finding a familiar landscape transformed, and the childish delight of a snowy day. That was probably the last time I felt so carefree, I think sadly. That was before I lost my job.
I lie in bed, trying to hold on to the memory. Eventually, I doze off, dreaming that it is December, and that I will wake up to another snow day and the momentary relief from responsibility granted by awesome meteorological events. I will have no choice but to make snowballs and throw them at T.J., stopping only to eat dessert. Then I will go to work and bill lots of hours, and the managing partner will call me into his office to tell me to stop working so hard. “Roxana,” he says in my half-dream, “when do you have time to sleep? Listen: things are a little lean right now, but we think a ginormous bonus is in order.”
Unfortunately, reality intrudes on my dream. Perhaps even more unfortunately, reality seems to be adapted from of an episode of the old TV show “Land of the Lost,” in which the daughter, Holly, encounters her future self while trying to save her family from fearsome lizard people. But, while Holly’s future self comforts her, giving her enough courage to face the task ahead, future Roxana is decidedly cranky and unsupportive. She calls December Roxana (who is frolicking in the snow) inside, and then serves her a steaming bowl of acrid soup, which (I determine later) is an uninspired dream metaphor for disappointment. “Get used to it, Rox,” she says. “There’s more where that came from. And, by the way: you might want to scrap the snowman-building and focus on learning to make your own clothes.” The dream dissipates. I wanted to sleep until things got better, I think irritably. Why does future Roxie have to be such a downer?
More after the jump.
When I wake up again, T.J. is making breakfast. I head into the kitchen. “Roxie Rox!” he says brightly, handing me a cup of coffee. “You look like shit!”
“Thanks,” I mumble. “I don’t feel so good. I think I had a dream about Land of the Lost.”
“Was it about the episode where they rescue a dinosaur from the tar pit?” he asks earnestly. No, I tell him, though it seems oddly relevant. “Do you think I’m the dinosaur in the tar pit?” I ask.
“Well,” he says, “you do seem to be stuck. I think you need to clear your head, which is why we’re going to yoga as soon as you finish eating. If you step on it, we can make the 9:00 class.” He smiles triumphantly and thrusts a schedule at me. It is from a yoga studio I’ve been to, although I haven’t taken the class that T.J. has his eye on. Cliff, however, went to it once, and swore that the instructor read aloud from “Our Bodies, Ourselves” between rounds of earnest chanting.
“I’m not in the mood,” I tell T.J. “I’m going back to sleep.”
“Roxana!” he says sternly, registering exasperation. “You like yoga. It’ll make you feel better.”
“I can’t do yoga,” I say flatly. “I’m stuck in the tar pit.”
“Get dressed,” he answers. “We’re leaving in eight minutes.”
Voluntarily or not, I am soon standing on a mat in the yoga studio. The room is warm and smells of incense, and I fight the urge to curl up and cover my face. I believe the pose I have in mind is known as “Depressed Attorney.” And if it’s not, I think, it should be. We begin to move through postures, and my mind wanders to the résumés I need to send out, the phone calls I should make, the job I don’t have. I grow frustrated with my inability to focus, and am struck by the dissonant stress of trying to relax.
“Find your tadasana,” Maggie, the instructor, tells us before each series of poses, and I scan my mental hard drive for the meaning of the word. I’m sure I used to know it, but alas: it has apparently been displaced by song lyrics, or Land of the Lost episodes. As if on cue, she explains, in her silky yoga voice, that tadasana is “mountain pose,” and that it should “bring us to a place of stillness and confidence,” a well of “happiness and strength.” Find your tadasana, she says over and over. Locate your tadasana. Return to your tadasana. Where is my tadasana? I wonder. I consider asking Maggie how one finds one’s tadasana when all the familiar landmarks that once pointed to it are nowhere in evidence. She seems like a nurturing person; perhaps she has a secret yogic method for Mapquesting it.
The thought gnaws at me for the rest of class. I am drifting, and I can’t even find my fucking tadasana. When Maggie turns down the lights and directs us to get into “corpse pose,” I am relieved. Finally: something I’m good at.
Maggie takes out a book and opens it to a marked page, and I crane my neck to see whether it is, in fact, “Our Bodies, Ourselves.” She catches me acting un-corpselike, and tells me, in a whisper, to close my eyes. Then she reads to us in a singsong voice that makes me feel like I am back in nursery school, waiting for the wake-up fairy to release us from a nap.
“It’s springtime,” Maggie begins softly, “and spring is a time of blossoming and growth.” I cringe inwardly at her earnestness. “Growth can be painful at times, but we have to remember that it leads to flowering, and is a necessary part of the fruitfulness that helps life go on,” she continues. Despite their sugary coating, something about her words rings true. I am sure that there is a lesson in all of this, although I have no idea what it is at the moment. I want to believe that I have managed to plant something on my way to this strange place; I want to believe in the possibility that I dropped the seeds of a better life on the hard ground this winter. “When things are difficult, always return to your tadasana,” Maggie adds. “And remember that sometimes, when you’re standing at the base of a mountain, you may not be able to tell what you’re looking at.” Maybe that’s my problem, I think: I’m at the bottom of my tadasana, which happens to look remarkably similar to a sheer cliff.
When we leave, T.J. is bouncy and energetic. “That was great!” he says cheerfully. “What’d you learn, Rox?”
“I can’t find my tadasana,” I say, feeling tiny. I also feel like I might cry again, although I am not sure why. I have the distinct sense that, whether or not I understand it right now, my life is just … different. The enormity of negotiating it without a roadmap seems overwhelming.
A few days later, I call Dr. Logan. Dr. Logan is a psychiatrist I saw a couple of times several years ago, when I was tormented by a month-long bout of insomnia. She is blonde and wholesome, and I remember her cringing whenever I said the word “fuck.” But, I decide, I can’t keep subjecting my friends to what is turning into a prolonged blue spell, and she may have some insights to offer. We make an appointment for later in the week.
Dr. Logan seems pleased to see me, and I wonder if she, too, is finding billables hard to come by. I tell her about being laid off, about my break-up with Cliff, about the seeming endlessness of my job search and how hard it is to stay hopeful.
“Wow,” she says. “That’s really discouraging.” She tells me that she’s read about lawyer layoffs and that the situation seems pretty dire. C’mon, I think. You can do better.
I try again. “I feel like there’s something else I should be doing,” I tell her, “or something I should be learning from this. I mean, realistically …” My words trail off, and she looks at me expectantly.
“Realistically,” I say slowly, “my career in a law firm is probably over. I’m not young enough to walk into a random practice group as an associate, and I’m not senior enough to be anything else.” I remember Susan, my colleague on the doc review project, saying virtually the same thing to me, and although I have had this thought many times, the words linger with a certain finality once I have said them.
“Roxana,” Dr. Logan says gently, “I haven’t seen you in a long time, but if I recall correctly, you didn’t like the Big Law Firm. You thought it was just a place to get experience, a stepping stone to something you’d rather be doing.”
She is right, but, sitting in her office in jeans and flip-flops, after months of unemployment and encroaching despair, the ideas I once had about my career seem ludicrous. “I would take a job doing just about anything at this point,” I tell her, “but I don’t think I have the luxury of making the choices I thought I had.” I always imagined that I would leave the Big Law Firm on my own terms, when I was ready to move on. Now, I tell Dr. Logan, I can’t help but wonder whether I miscalculated, and whether the chances I always thought — or hoped — would come along have slipped away. Some of those chances were reasonable expectations, and some were ill-defined dreams; still others were probably pure fantasy. My mind churns. I may have hated a number of things about the Big Law Firm, and I certainly didn’t want to work there forever, but I can’t help feeling like I have failed.
“Why do you think that, Roxana?” Dr. Logan asks patiently. “I remember you saying that you hated the stress of billing your hours, and that you were only really happy doing trials, or writing.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “I guess I had a vague idea of success, and it didn’t really look like this. But I’m not really sure what it is supposed to look like.” I have never asked Dr. Logan personal questions, but I decide to forge ahead. “Have you ever worked really hard to get to a certain point in your career, only to find that it didn’t make you happy?” I ask her.
She pauses thoughtfully. I expect an elliptical answer (leading back to “and how does that make you feel?”), but she is surprisingly direct. “I always thought I wanted to be in academia,” she tells me, “but the more time I spent in that setting, the more I realized that I hated writing grants and dealing with academic bureaucracy. It didn’t feel like I was doing what I set out to do, which was taking care of people and helping them sort through their emotions. You have to think about what’s at the core of your interest in the law, and then think about how you can find a way to do that, even if it means giving up some of the security of the path you were on before.” She smiles at me. “For what it’s worth, Roxana, I think that being out of the Big Law Firm may be a good twist of fate for you. You might have to take a pay cut to do something different, but I don’t think that world was making you happy. It’s okay to be sad because your old expectations are gone, but you may find new ones that fit you better.”
We talk for a while longer, and Dr. Logan tells me to keep her posted. When I get home, my thoughts are swirling. I consider going to yoga, but I don’t think I can stand still for long enough to find my tadasana. Instead, I head out for a run.
I am too distracted to think about where I am going, so I run mindlessly — past the young, tattooed man who sits outside a local shop every day wearing a top hat; past the homeless guy who lines up crushed cans on the street and whacks them, like golf balls, with an old driver; past neighborhoods where European immigrants once lived, working harder than I will ever be able to imagine. I run to the East River, and turn off at the track just north of Houston Street. I usually hate running around a track, but after a while I am barely aware of my surroundings. The feeling of turning endless circles, of running without going anywhere, feels oddly familiar, if not exactly comfortable. This is what my daily life is like, I think, passing the bleachers again. Without a downhill rock, I have no sense that I am making progress.
I am not sure how long I have been running when I realize that it is getting dark. When I check my watch, I am stunned to find that I left home two and a half hours ago. I shouldn’t have been able to do this, I think: I’m still recovering from an injury I suffered last year, and I’ve been smoking more than I’d like to admit. My knee hurts, and I haven’t eaten since this morning. It’s like the miracle of Chanunkah! I slow down, wondering at how I managed to run this far.
Suddenly, on my next lap around the track, I remember visiting a client in jail several years ago. Sitting across from him, talking through a pane of Plexiglass, I watched him decompensate before my eyes. “I don’t think I can do this,” he sobbed, his shoulders heaving. “What if my wife doesn’t wait for me? What if my daughter doesn’t remember me?” He was a crook, but he was also a stay-home father who had an incredible bond with his wife and child. Tears streamed down his face, and I remember thinking that I had never seen someone look so bereft.
“Listen to me,” I said to him. “You’re going to get through this. You’ll find a strength you never knew you had, and I promise you’ll be able to draw on it to carry you through.” I told him that he would always be a good husband and father, that no one could take that from him, and that I was sure he was strong enough to sustain himself through what seemed, at the time, like a nightmare. I talked to him for a long time, not sure whether he was actually hearing anything I said. But, two years later, I got a letter from him, carefully handwritten on lined paper. “Roxana, thank you,” it read. “You have no idea how many times I remembered what you told me that day in the visiting room. You were right: I was so much stronger than I even knew, but I’m not sure I would have realized it because I was so overwhelmed by everything I lost. I didn’t see what I still had. Thank you for believing in me. It reminded me to remember how much fight I had left in me.” I kept the letter in my desk drawer for a long time, to remind me why I wanted to keep fighting.
The memory stops me in my tracks. I look up at the sky, and it dawns on me: I have everything I need. I may not have a job, but I have the strength to keep running. I have friends who make me laugh — and who dry my tears. I have a home, even if it is occupied by two evil cats. I have survived worse, and I have enough fight left in me to get through this.
I am suddenly exhausted, but I feel good for the first time in weeks. I find my tadasana and limp home.
___________________________________________________________________________
Roxana St. Thomas is a laid-off lawyer living in New York. You can reach her by email (at roxanastthomas@gmail.com), follow her on Twitter, or find her on Facebook.
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Comments
John, the kind of control you're attempting is not possible. If there's one thing the history of evolution has taught us,
it's that life will not be contained. Life breaks free. It expands to new territories. It crashes through barriers.
Painfully, maybe even dangerously, but and...well, there it is.
First to say this is tiresome indeed.
Let's take off and nuke the site from orbit... It's the only way to be sure!
2 for the win. This woman needs exercise and sleep. Yoga only counts if no one writes about it.
Well, I'm sure you'd feel much worse if you weren't under such heavy sedation.
All the elite Harvard grads running the show at
CravaTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTh
couldn't keep the ship from sinking
Time for CHANGE
It just kept going and going and going...
who gives a flying fuck?
GO AWAY ROXANA
Roxana, don't let the haters and comment trolls get you down.
NFTB is consistently the best writing on ATL. Keep up the great work.
Brevity is not a concern here?
Roxana, I really liked this column. Great work.
9=Roxana
she must get paid by the word--no other way to explain this. very dickensian.
snooze....
I think Rox has a career as a public defender ahead of her. She can even empathize with lowlifes!
Eh, time to shut this series down. The doc review stuff was great, but this? Boring. Plus, it clearly is fiction. “Land of the Lost?” Nobody under 35 has ever heard or seen that show. Roxy is too young. This was definitely Kash after she got her Sleestak fill last night….
For the love of freakin' god woman. Stop wallowing in self pity and get off your ass.
Things aren't going to fall in your lap, you need to get out there.
I just can't believe how stifled some laid off associates seem to be. I am one of them, and it is tough. On top of that I suffer from severe depression.
If I can get out of bed and find bits of work here and there, so can you.
I am glad I was not a spoiled child. Some of you double ivy whiny little bitches make me want to vomit. You have a brain, use it!
Uh, did you READ the column? She isn't wallowing in self-pity. This one ends on a happy note.
ROXANNA NEEDS ...
MOAR BAREBACK
There's a moment of sheer panic when I realize that Paul's apartment overlooks the park, and is obviously more expensive than mine.
9&11=Hope
That was so beautifully written, Roxana! Once you find your new purpose in life, you will be so much happier than you ever could be at BigLaw. Congratulations on starting on the right path. It will be hard but so rewarding because you will be living an honest life true to who you really are, and there is no bigger joy.
If you don't like something, don't read it.
I skip the Sports section in the Sunday paper. But I don't write a letter to the editor saying the Sports section sucks and should be discontinued.
That was so beautifully written, Roxana! Once you find your new purpose in life, you will be so much happier than you ever could be at BigLaw. Congratulations on starting on the right path. It will be hard but so rewarding because you will be living an honest life true to who you really are, and there is no bigger joy.
For 1, and 19 so passionate in intensity --
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Roxanna - Awesome piece. You are far too gifted, self-aware and creative to work in an uninspiring law firm. I agree that this is probably one of the best things that has happened to you and will change the direction of your life in so many more positive ways that staying stuck in a law firm ever would have. I understand what you are going through and relate tremendously to your writing. Keep it up!
They show extreme intelligence, even problem solving. Especially the big one. We bred eight originally, but when she came in, she took over the pride and killed all but two of the others. That one - when she looks at you, you can see she's working things out. She's the reason we have to feed 'em like this. She had them all attacking the fences when the feeders came.
The fences are electrified, right?
That's right. But they never attack the same place twice. They were testing the fences for weaknesses. Systematically. They remembered.
A++++++ Would read again
Roxana,
I have worked to start my own practice, it is hard but gives me something to do every day and hopefully work will start coming in soon. My website is www.avifrischlaw.com.
I think P.E. should call up Roxana and rent her a swanky hotel room for MOAR BAREBACK.
Guys at my high school used to turn unemployed lawyers into hookers all the time, it was no big deal.
I find it interesting to read about what homeless persons do when a person I don't know walks by them, like playing with golf balls and stuff, and what the stranger's therapist looks like and says. Oh and I love when people tell me exactly what happened in the dreams they had the night before - that's so interesting because, you know, it could be like a cat or something talking...yet, cat's don't even talk IRL! Ya know?
18, 17 here.....no I lost interest before finishing.
But my thoughts about all of the whiny little bitches on this site stands.
It is depressing, I empathize. See a shrink and get on some meds.
I was an estate planner, working on plans for billionaires, now I am a consumer bankruptcy attorney working with law school friend who has been doing it for a while.
Be creative and get out there.
Hey Roxana-
At least Avi Frisch got off his ass and tried to do something.
I remember finding my special purpose. I didn't let go for weeks.
Roxana is a whiny bitch who needs to get herself a dammed job, any job, instead of wallowing in self-pity. What a perfect example of this generation's entitled woe-is-me attitude.
Hang a shingle. Move out of NY. DO SOMETHING.
Less Roxana, More Ass Lobster. TYIA
I really liked this actually.
Thanks Roxana. Do you. There is no other way to be.
34's a stern taskmaster, but he's the credited response. Rox's problems are self-inflicted due to her refusal to leave NYC. Oh, I know, anywhere outside of Manhattan is obvi hicksville and who would want to live anywhere else, repeat ad naseum. Fine. But then don't play the pity card because YOU refuse to leave a city w/ one of the highest COL in the known galaxy. I moved to Mos Eisely and never looked back. Also, 9,11,21,22,23,&25=Roxana=pathetic
Look, let me explain something. I'm not Mr. Lebowski. You're Mr. Lebowski. I'm the Dude. So that's what you call me. That or His Dudeness... Duder... or El Duderino, if, you know, you're not into the whole brevity thing.
I liked the post. I root for Roxana to do well.
34, 17 and 31 here! Agreed!
Hanging out a shingle takes money and time, and it is scary at first, but it isn't impossible. My partner started off without an office and met clients in coffee shops and McDonald's. He now makes 500k+ as a BK attorney and doesn't have some fucking piece of shit arrogant fuck of a partner telling him what to do.
Build a solo referral network, start with small things you can handle, advertise on Craigslist (yes it works, just don't meet them in hotels) Advertise via mail using click2mail.com. It is relatively cheap. Research your target market. I spread around flyers in bad neighborhoods in Chicago. Fun, but I do it.
All you need is a computer, phone, malpractice insurance, pay per hour office space and a good business plan.
The entire business model of biglaw is shit. I run on little overhead and don't need a secretary.
Dear Editor
#22 sucks and should be removed.
Sincerely,
Guest
Dear Editor
#22 sucks and should be removed.
Sincerely,
Guest
Agree with #34. Unfortunately, Roxana is too weak-willed to make it happen. It's nice to be touch-feely about your future, hopes, dreams, etc... but sometimes you have to "man up" and pay the rent. Imagine if the genders were reversed and Roxana was actually a man. Most comments would be telling him to grow a pair of balls and get back out there.
If you truly want to be happy, stop holding on to the past. Your days as a carefree BIGLAW associate are over, finished, kaput, etc... You are still making the same mistake you've always made since the beginning of your career - you identify who you are, as well as your purpose in life, by where you work(ed). Stop navel-gazing and looking for deeper meaning in your life. You don't have that luxury right now. Do what you have to do to survive and happiness will eventually follow. If it doesn't, do something else, and keep doing something else until it does.
Your first job out of law school wasn't perfect. In fact, it pretty much sucked and you were only doing it for money and experience. Well, you have both now, perhaps not on your timetable, but you have them. Time to do something with them now.
If you hadn't gotten laid off, you would have continued to bury your head in the sand, putting off "growing up" for another year, and another year, etc... You need to do just that - grow up - and act like a respectable member of the legal profession. If you don't think you're ready to do so, tough cookies. It's time.
Dear Editor
#22 sucks and should be removed.
Sincerely,
Guest
I enjoyed it. Fuck the rest of you.
Roxana clearly has writing talent. But she needs to find a muse other than self-pity, because this is insufferable.
I need to know, please be honest. Do people really like her writing? Because my style is quite similar to her style and I always thought my writing was a bit melodramatic and cheesy. But if people like that style, maybe I will write that novel after all.
Roxana, please bleach your anus before you post.
Roxana need to good fucking to get her mind on other things. Being a lawyer ain't all that great, regardless of what some of the pissheads might say. Get married and have kids, then get a divorce with a great financial settlement, then lay back and enjoy the rest of your life. It works.
How is she paying her rent, eating, and affording a gym membership? I really want to know.
Please add more asslobster to these posts. And maybe a dash of bleached anus for good measure.
thank you
yay roxy!!!!!!!!!
I'm going to split the baby and say that it was a good piece, and these posters (and the shrink) are correct: she hated the job she lost. She has been putting off growing up and figuring out what she's going to do with her life. But I think in this post she's starting to figure that out. The shrink hit the nail on the head in telling her to reconfigure her expectations. NYC probably doesn't make sense. Big law firm probably doesn't make sense. The only thing holding her back is her perceived need to have both of those things.
Time to end this "series" - it has gotten very tired and not very interesting.
I thought it was really good, and I ain't roxana.
last two paragraphs gave me goosebumps. I have SO been there. KEEP GOING ROX. don't listen to the weenies.
I'm sick of this bitch.
shit
This article begs for a good Tom Swifty reference. Roxy (or Kash?), bubby, enough with the adverbs. If you ever take a writing course with a decent professor, your propensity to use adverbs will be beaten out of your writing. Here we go with SOME of the ones you used unnecessarily, extraneously, mistakenly, sadly, annoyingly:
he says brightly
he asks earnestly.
he says, pausing thoughtfully
he says sternly, registering exasperation (DOUBLE HA HERE)
"I can't do yoga," I say flatly.
"It's springtime," Maggie begins softly,
When we leave, T.J. is bouncy and energetic. "That was great!" he says cheerfully. (WE GET IT...HE'S HAPPY!!!!!)
My words trail off, and she looks at me expectantly.
"Roxana," Dr. Logan says gently,
"Why do you think that, Roxana?" Dr. Logan asks patiently.
She pauses thoughtfully.
I also found this one more tedious than the others. I'd say there are at least 1000 extraneous words (about 300 of which end in ly),
Bravo roxana. Thank you for letting us into this process you are going through.
Bravo roxana. Thank you for letting us into this process you are going through.
55 - roxy swimming in the river of de nile
Congrats lady - you and your tadasana are going to make it! Great post...glad to see you started finding your way!!!
Tune in next week as Roxie spends 1500 words to tell us that she still doesn't have a job.
55=Roxana for sure; 56=obese and alone
63 = T.J.
64= T.J.'s roommate (still bitter about sleeping on the couch UNEXPECTEDLY and UNCOMFORTABLY)
Nothing says "good husband and father" like being moronic enough to engage in illegal conduct, thereby risking the permanent disruption of your family.
Jurassic Park pwns Land of the Lost in dino-realism.
Congrats on the moment of clarity, Roxana! I've only caught your column a couple of times, but I enjoy it!
Get out of the city, woman. Nobody feels sorry for you but yourself. What you want is pity, what you get is your therapist trying to get you to do something other than whine.
67=dyslexic
Most lawyers are deuchbags.
Most commenters on this site are lawyers.
Therefore...
Therefore WHAT, 72?!? Don't leave me hanging!!!
ha re spelling of deuchbags...that is uproarilously, hilariously, gut-achingly funny
Therefore ....anal bleaching and asslobsters?
It's like the miracle of Chanunkah!!!!!!
Tell us...who celebrates Chanunkah? Is the extra n meant to signify an extra day of gifts?
Takes guts to put yourself out there when you're at your lowest - especially when you know a lot of snotty, bored attorneys and wannabes are going to take shots at you to try to get attention. Nice work, Roxana. You will land on your feet.
Ive never met Roxana, but I bet she's way cooler than the cranky ass-hats who bitch about her column.
At this point people know if they like her stories or not, so stop reading 'em if they are so boring. Jeez.
Roxana, this column is great and well-written! Glad to see some resolution in here.
To some of the other commenters, the "entitlement" comments are tiresome. Many people in Biglaw worked quite hard and took on debt to get there. There is nothing entitled about wanting your reasonably expected return from that investment.
TL; DR
That's "Too Long; Didn't Read" for the thick-skulled
Roxana, you blathered on about all the boring stuff but left out the key details. What happened when TJ's roommate crawled into bed and realized you were there?
I got canned in a third round (over the phone!) in the March bloodbath. Worse, I'm in real estate and was in securitized lending. I lateraled to another firm in search of a better balance -- I got it too, until the bottom fell out of the world. I know one non-partner real estate lawyer who is working. Most of my client contacts got laid off before I did.
Biglaw sucks and watching my expectations go up in smoke along with trillions of dollars of market value stinks more. Life goes on. My expectations may be dead, but no one else died.
I inadvertently ended up running a very small law firm from my home office. You'd be suprised how many people aren't phased by "I got laid off from a big firm but I know I how to do this, this and this" if you're priced low enough. Don't say no unless you're completely unqualfied and can't figure out how to do whatever it is. I've learned laptop repair, furniture assembly and how to sew (really). I've been to lots of CLEs. I volunteer on a political campaign. That's where a lot of my anger about the situation goes. I can at least pretend that I can do something about the economic situation from there. Mine your contacts. Think about how you can add value to what they're doing. It may not be law related.
Some days I'm smashing coffee cups. Bonus points if they're from your former firm.
No one is hiring. Get over that fact and seek out opportunities to do something. The local bar association should have "thinking outside the box" CLEs. Go, you might learn something.
I am working as hard as I have ever worked without the benefit of a steady paycheck, but I own my day. I own my life. It takes some effort to un-do what Biglaw has taught your about life and the actual mechanics of law practice but it can be done.
If you like to write, there are tons of articles about getting people to your blog. Write about something substantive that interests you. If you can get out of NYC, do.
No matter what, get moving on something. Your sanity will thank you.
81 - He dropped his balls on her forehead, of course.
The end of the post had a "this-is-the-conclusion" tone. Could it have been the last post? Please?
59,
You didn't suggest the fix. If she didn't used the adverbs it's harder to understand the context, etc.
59,
You didn't suggest the fix. If she didn't use the adverbs it's harder to understand the context, etc.
77 and 78 =same person; likely Roxana
roxannie, i thought it was very gripping. you could easily write summertime beach fiction. moar! moar!
77. Not Roxana. Laura.
Comment removed by moderator.
86, I agree adverbs are sometimes a necessary evil but my God not this many.
Why do we need "'I can't do yoga,' I say flatly." Wouldn't "'I can't do yoga'" work on its own?
Iny event, Roxy, baby, this feels like a first draft to me. The three best words any writer can know are cut, cut, cut. I think many folks have responded that it's too long. The internet is not a friend to long prose. Very few online articles/stories are this long.
And, 83, that is one possibility but I don't think the roommate would be that forward. I'd like to hear how things built, even if that was the result. And, Roxy, take your time describing it all (and use as many adverbs as you like).
This is a great column. Gets better every week.
Maybe you should write for a living..
Rich kids shut the F'up. We all know if you get fired you can go work for your dad or live off your trust fund. No one is safe in this era.
Awful
Boring
Crappy
Dull
Embarrassing
Failure
Gibberish
Humdrum
Interminable
Jaundiced
Kaka
Lugubrious
Mortifying
Noxious
Odious
Putrescent
Queasifying
Repugnant
Soporific
Tiresome
Unbearable
Violation
Weak
Xantippe
Yawn
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Awful
Boring
Crappy
Dull
Embarrassing
Failure
Gibberish
Humdrum
Interminable
Jaundiced
Kaka
Lugubrious
Mortifying
Noxious
Odious
Putrescent
Queasifying
Repugnant
Soporific
Tiresome
Unbearable
Violation
Weak
Xantippe
Yawn
ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
Some nice bits, but please please please pare these down. They would be more interesting. Kill your darlings - remember from the creative writing class you likely took?
91 - write your own damned story.
roxana - i hadn't read your column in a while but thank you for this. glad i read it today.
Obama's goal is to create the longest breadlines, EVAH!
But in the middle of the night, I wake up suddenly, feeling deeply disoriented. It takes me a moment to realize that I have a sticky feeling in my crotch and I have forgotten to take my pill.
ONE HUNDRED....
...jobs lost every day because of Democrat Obama.
Comment #100 is offensive and I have instructed my comments czar to moderate. Most economists believe that my policies will create or save 4 million jobs. Unfortunately, that will still leave 146 million of you unemployed.
I'm Barack Obama?
96, did you mean damn? It's actually funny as "damned" for a variety of reasons, most of which you presumably don't know.
I run for hours, trying to erase the memory of T.J.'s gigantically large member, his roomie's begrudgingly-provided commentary, and the crushingly vicious sense that a camera was capturing every heartbreakingly sad moment occurring presently.
Holy crap, I am having trouble controlling my projectile vomitus. Can someone please stop this woman from writing, she is worse than Prostetnic Vogon Jeltz.
Roxana--
Great job-- we all can identify and emphathize with you and how you are essentially facing your first real career challenge. Some of us are going through something similar (or sense we are on the verge of it), some of us are further along in our lives, but all of us enjoy your writing and insights into this experience.
One lesson I learned-- nothing ever prepares you for this, even prior adversity of another kind-- only luck. Other than that it is finding your way as you are.
Great post, great writing.
BTW, screw all the commenters who read the entire 1,500 word article and then bitch about it. They obviously like your series if they are avidly reading the whole thing minutes after you post. All publicity is good publicity.
And now I recommend releasing a sex tape.
Kirkland has just fired 17 tech people across all offices as well as several middle managers and directors.
Kirkland has just fired 17 tech people across all offices as well as several middle managers and directors.
Kirkland just fired 17 tech people across all offices as well as several middle managers and directors.
Roxana,
I am enjoying your posts immensely, please don't listen to the these horrible comments. For what it is worth, I am a happy career NYC prosecutor and I know that we are always hiring (even now). You should consider applying, especially since you enjoy trial work. (AG, US Atty, DA's offices are all hiring)Plus, it is a blast beating the pompous biglaw attorneys at trial! The only downside is the money.
GL!
Roxana,
I am enjoying your posts immensely, please don't listen to the these horrible comments. For what it is worth, I am a happy career NYC prosecutor and I know that we are always hiring (even now). You should consider applying, especially since you enjoy trial work. (AG, US Atty, DA's offices are all hiring)Plus, it is a blast beating the pompous biglaw attorneys at trial! The only downside is the money.
GL!
I enjoyed this post, as I've enjoyed your past columns. I suspect most of your critics are people who never read for pleasure.
Two things: great piece.
I am so glad my republican friends aren't as dumb as the repubs. who post on this site about the President. It makes me hope that perhaps the opposition party will eventually do something constructive, and drop the propaganda.
are you really going to document every sour hour of your unemployment?
read those articles on 'funemployment' and cheer up already!
I enjoyed this post, as I've enjoyed your past columns. I suspect most of your critics are people who never read for pleasure.
I like this series, though my experiences are different there are some similarities with my past situation, and the posts are well-written (or, if not well-written, at least enjoyable to read).
82 - well put, and good luck.
You all crack me up. Most of you who comment with snarky remarks will be unemployed for the holidays. Your dreams will be dead and you might as well be too. That is your fate. In two years everyone of you will be fired. If you can't understand that then you have your head in the sand. Big Law is DEAD!!
I like this column and I look forward to it every week. Whoever was complaining about the use of descriptive words - my guess is that you have been writing legal briefs for too long. It may not be on the level of great literature but it is very readable and as good as or better than a lot of the "chick lit" out there. Yeah, lots of us like that kind of stuff - deal.
All the douchebag men who are hating, go read a sports column and go about your way. Can't wait to hear you whine when you get laid off.
Roxana, your writing is so amazing! Finally there is a voice out there for the young and entitled, preferred elite class in this country!
I LOVE Notes From the Breadline!
Guys at my high school used to get moar bareback all the time. It was no big deal.
-- FRAT STUD
19: hehehheh
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
I always enjoy these posts, but they're depressing as hell. Roxana is definitely a better writer than I am, and probably a better lawyer too. It's scary that she was laid off and even scarier that she can't find a new one.
To 119, not to get too deep into the weeds on this...but surely you've heard "show, don't tell". By using so many words ending in "ly", Roxy is telling us exactly what to feel instead of showing us. I will be the first to say I don't read chick lit. If that is indeed how things are written, then perhaps Roxy would be wise to follow your advice and keep doing what she's doing.
Wow! Bare your innermost vulnerabilities and what do you get? Critiques with nothing else to do but complain about a piece they either didn't read or should have stopped reading by the second sentence because it wasn't of interest to them.
On the other side, I'll skip all the over the top melodramatic rah rah's, but I wanted you to know that your piece is beautifully written and spoke right to my core. I, for one, savored every long paragraph and was happy to find another. I can't wait to follow the rest of your journey.
Wow! Bare your innermost vulnerabilities and what do you get? Critiques with nothing else to do but complain about a piece they either didn't read or should have stopped reading by the second sentence because it wasn't of interest to them.
On the other side, I'll skip all the over the top melodramatic rah rah's, but I wanted you to know that your piece is beautifully written and spoke right to my core. I, for one, savored every long paragraph and was happy to find another. I can't wait to follow the rest of your journey.
Wow! Bare your innermost vulnerabilities and what do you get? Critiques with nothing else to do but complain about a piece they either didn't read or should have stopped reading by the second sentence because it wasn't of interest to them.
On the other side, I'll skip all the over the top melodramatic rah rah's, but I wanted you to know that your piece is beautifully written and spoke right to my core. I, for one, savored every long paragraph and was happy to find another. I can't wait to follow the rest of your journey.
Wow! Bare your innermost vulnerabilities and what do you get? Critiques with nothing else to do but complain about a piece they either didn't read or should have stopped reading by the second sentence because it wasn't of interest to them.
On the other side, I'll skip all the over the top melodramatic rah rah's, but I wanted you to know that your piece is beautifully written and spoke right to my core. I, for one, savored every long paragraph and was happy to find another. I can't wait to follow the rest of your journey.
Roxana, I doubt you read these comments since so many of them are vile and disgusting. But, if you do . . . this was your best post so far and describes a state of being that consumes the young and intelligent in America ---- an unwillingness to change despite a disinterest in the present. I hope you find what you are meant to do but, in the meantime, I hope you keep writing.
82- I was right with you up until the gratuitous “get out of nyc” line. With reasoning skills like that, you’re clearly a furniture maker who was trying to be a lawyer, not vice versa. The unemployed in New York are better off than almost any other place in the county: we have a large consumer base to launch what ever business they intend to attempt, lots of labor to keep costs down if things take off, cheap and plentiful mass transit and free and cheap distractions to keep the tedium at bay if things don’t work out. Same reason why immigrants from all over the world, and opportunity seekers from all over America, come here in droves. We want you back, too.
I call bullshit. Roxana's never worked in biglaw. No one who's ever worked in biglaw would describe it as "the last time I felt so carefree, I think sadly. That was before I lost my job." Okay, I have a biglaw job and there is nothing "carefree" about how it makes me feel--ever.
Either Roxana is completely full of shit and never actually worked in biglaw, or she's actually convinced herself that being unemployed is so miserable that she remembers her biglaw job as "carefree." I'm leaning toward the former. I searched the NY Bar for Roxana St. Thomas, and no such person is a member of the NY Bar. In fact, there are no "Roxana"s at all.
The "carefree" comment gave you a way sweetie. You are a decent creative writer, but no former biglaw associate. I'd bet dollars to donuts this is actually Kash writing pseudonymously.
Just wanted to be another to speak words of encouragement to you. I think I need to hear them myself and perhaps saying and believing them for you (and I do) will help me say and believe them for me. So you will find your tadasana, and it will lead you to places that make you happy in all the ways you want. When you lose it, or are so overwhelmed by life that you can't find it, that's when good friends or total strangers (therapist) will say or do something to spark it. Then you will chase it, then it will motivate you. Let me be the total stranger to say what an incredible writer I think you are. To be able to make experiences, any experience, come alive for a reader is a gift. And you have it.
Wow, Avi Frisch, you interned for Judge Sotomeyer, that's awesome. Good for you for opening your own firm and doing something productive. I hope it turns out well for you.
I really don't understand why Roxanna isn't working *somewhere* by now... is this for real?? I have to say that if I couldn't find a job in 6 months in the area that I lived in, I would look in other areas and move where the jobs were. I know the employment market is bad all over but there has got to be something out there somewhere, and it's obviously not in NYC.
And the only other thing I want to say is that these columns are way, way, way too long. I thought all associates learned to say what they mean in the shortest and most direct way possible?