I have been reading the Professional Responsibility manual since yesterday and already it has been driving me crazy. I’ll be finishing soon but admitably in the process, bored to tears on rules about solicitor’s accounts and revamping of rules.
W called and I rendered to him the former, and he laughed and told me about his latest case in Israel, and his new fellowship with Harvard Law. W is one of the ‘inexplicable funny fellows’ of my friends who started off advocating human rights, than became an investment banker, and now he has joined the UN and am ‘making good the years he lost as an investment banker’. We met in a London bookstore (the same place I met Preuk, Beansprouts) – in my first year when I was my good idealistic self thinking I could conquer the world (of sorts) in my first crazy month of reading before UCL.
He is still convinced I should run off and become a prosecutor for the UN, the next moment he conjures a plan to run off and start strange ice polishing businesses together in Russia (the city of my dreams) and the next he tells me about meeting cats in Jordan. Even as we talk and laugh, I sense that W is a little lost, and I am not sure whether he knows where he wants to be.
But it is alright – there is always a little unsettled ambition sitting in all of us, even as we commit to the practical – the necessary- the mundane – and read poetry in the gym on running machines. We have both seen a part of the world we want to be in and our hearts will not be quiet. Our thoughts and feelings will not be divided by politicians or careers into logic-tight and unconnected compartments. We will rebel against the foolish consistency we only think we have to be in.