Back In Kingston

I’m in town for til Sunday on newspaper business. Ever since I started working at the Journal, I’ve begun calling myself a newspaperman. I always tell people that, for some reason.

I think I do this for determinism, the more I talk and think a way, the more I’ll probably be like that thing. That’s why I going to try to enjoy this summer weekend getaway, because normal people like this shit, right?

Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy going to my cottage on the weekend, I like partying and other weekend only activities. But, there’s something so weird to me about self-restriction for something that no one’s proven will pay off.

It’s likely that if I were to become overly boring I could make a lot of money being a lawyer, some kind of ‘professional’. But, these people never seem happy, they still have very good reasons for doing what they do, but I’ve never heard one of my mother’s colleagues recommend their field. It’s always, ‘I worked hard so my kids’ can be happy’, or some variation on it.

I guess that’s copacetic but it seems like there’s more valuable things to pass onto your children than money, especially if getting that money means you are not giving something else, some kind of work ethic or personality trait which enabled you, Lawyer, to become what you are. If your parents were poor and yet you were well enough off to become a high-powered attorney, what exactly did they do wrong?

Short post, cuz I’m busy with newspaper business, but just some thoughts for y’all.

Clay

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