“What do you mean you’re saying no?” My parents look at me with troubled expressions from across the family room. Mentally I feel calm but my body betrays me. I flush and start to sweat slightly like I’m a little boy again, in trouble for talking back for the hundredth time. The ingredients for a celebration dinner sit forlornly and half-prepared on the counter in the other room. “Isn’t this what you’ve worked so hard for?” my mother asked. She was right. My entire conscious life I’ve wanted to be a lawyer. It was all just so natural to me; I’m prone to argue to understand, a stickler for the details of the rules, deeply invested in philosophy and politics, and obsessed with stories. My passion was continually confirmed during my time in competitive Mock Trial throughout high school and undergrad, which contained some of the most engaging and rewarding moments of my life. I sit up and away from the back of the couch. Even after all that speaking training, adrenaline shakes my voice slightly. “It is. But I know that I can do better now. I at least have to try.” I said. Due to the blessings of circumstance, I’d always followed a path with guardrails, excelling but with no choices with real stakes. That worked just fine for me, as it had always led to the destination that I wanted of becoming a lawyer. On this path, I’d taken the LSAT and applied to what I had always planned to gladly accept. It was everything I’d worked for. It was what I’d always done. It was the most safe. But it just didn’t feel right. Part of it was that the LSAT had recently been changed and I thought I would score better with the removal of Logic Games. That’s the reason I gave most people; I just couldn’t tolerate the idea of leaving potential on the table whether it ultimately manifested or not. But more than that, I wanted to get outside the guardrails I’d never been without to see if the sense of self that I’d cultivated so far still applied in the real world. Ultimately though, both reasons came down to the same idea: I wasn’t willing to risk settling, which meant I needed to see what I could really do. After that conversation with my parents, I started my first office job for the summer as a paralegal at Moore and Bogener. There was a decent learning curve, but most of the soft skills I’d built in my writing major and Mock Trial transferred well, especially to tasks like legal research and summarization and analysis of various legal documents. But I didn’t want to stay in my Northern Californian hometown forever, it was still too sheltered. So I used the money saved from Moore and Bogener and the network I’d built in New York to move to Albany, land a legal secretary job at Tully Rinckey, and start work. I’m happy to report that it’s gone well so far. It’s been strange; the things I’ve learned already from such a seemingly simple change. One of the most surprising was getting a crash course in office workplace social interactions, which are surprisingly different from those of any other social situation I’ve ever been in. I’m now much more capable of not running over anyone's toes because I know where they are, a learning curve that I’m glad I’m getting over before I have to make a first impression at a job after law school. I’ve noticed significant internal changes already as well, including a much greater sense of urgency. I’m lucky enough to have friends and family there for me in the case of emergencies, but in striking out on my own there's been a definite change in perspective that's raised a type of real ambition in me that I never had before. Not to meet the high mark out of expectations, but out of pride, conviction, and most importantly, necessity. The necessity to create the kind of life I want for loved ones. The necessity to not waste my potential and fail to give everything I can to the world. Among all this change, internal and external, a small part of me worried that my chosen path may no longer be the one for me, but the opposite has proven true. Sinking my teeth into practical practice at two law firms has done nothing but reaffirm that I want to be the one doing work behind the closed door, not in front of it, and has better equipped me to get there. I have more drive and ability than ever to become a lawyer, to practice, and to succeed.