Today I compared my life to the life of the sample man at Chic-Fil-A. He looked so content, offering up bitesized samples of the new Chic-Fil-A breakfast sandwiches. Older and clearly retired from some more labor intensive job, for a moment I was completely jealous of him. Not only was he friendly and smiling, but he clearly had the worst part of life behind him, and was enjoying his retirement, playing with the kids and giving out free chicken. I wished I was him, and that I didn’t have worries like trying to find a new job and trying to give the large bulk of my life that I most likely have ahead of me (if I live to the average life expectancy) worth and meaning.
Of course, I could be reading things all wrong. He could be a lonely widower so miserable spending his retirement years at home that he looks to chicken for solace and a sense of belonging. But I don’t think it is that way.
Being in Florida, trying to study for the Washington Bar Exam, I can’t help but feel like I have regressed a bit. Isn’t this exactly where I was two years ago, except it was the New York Bar Exam? Except then I guess I at least had a job waiting for me after the bar exam, so perhaps I wasn’t quite so pathetic.
In spite of these things, ever since I left the Bronx Family Court last week, I have been feeling entirely more content and have been sleeping much easier. At least some huge weight has been lifted.
Pictures below: Last Day in the Bronx Family Court
Top – Me and Erik; Me and Heather
Bottom – Ed, Nicole, Melissa, and Sarah; Me and Ed