The fictions of successes and failures
Preface
D-day – 49 today (2012-03-19). I am finally getting back to work. I subconsciously unplugged myself for a week an experiment in simply doing what I wanted and putting my concerns on the back-burner. Exam time is fast approaching in this new world of mine, the walls of my flat started to show the despaired mind which inhabit me. Chart and schedule were created to program the most difficult month of a difficult degree. But how to you get ready for such a rigorous regime of Vision, Revision and Provision. Well I cannot say I planned it nor that I expected it or even that I wanted it. I might just have needed it. From the Law ball to St-Patrick day I took a leave of my educational responsibility. I took 8 days and made the most of them following what life was throwing at me. Here a short overview of the fun packed, insanity ridden and reflection filled week I had.
Saturday: the Law Ball
A long-standing tradition in many law school across the world is one of lavish ball for the selected few which are currently living and breathing the law. Be it lecturers, staff, or students all come to enjoy the particularly formal celebration which is normally quickly followed by a lot less formal and often sudden decompression. In one night you get the opportunity to ear finely crafted speech by meriting students and academics, interrupted by fine food and entertainers. For women that night of celebration is preceded by hours of preparation for men an extra 20 minutes is spent trying to create a relatively nice bow tie. I started the day by going cuff-link and bow tie shopping at the Bull ring a massive shopping centre at the centre of Birmingham. A quick-lunch at a fancy french restaurant and a quick shower was my day of preparation for the night. After a quick pre-drink and some nibble at my flat with a small group of graduate students, we left for the Hearth of England Convention Centre.
A fairy tale location nested in the centre of my new country, wall harbouring stone and a great deal of white drapes, Chandeliers holding real burning candles and a live string quartet. Could one imagine a better setting for a night of celebration? well if you bring in a stereo, a dj and a set of professional photographer offering their craft for free you get the making of a night of great pleasure. After a solemn dinner, I let my hair loose metaphorically and started to enjoy the moment and its special affinities. From a vodka slide, to a heated argument passing through a deep embrace and a kiss. The night of the law ball had every hot-blooded emotion a man knows and need to feel to remember he his alive. I knew I was alive that night. A Journey of reflection and self-realization had debuted with great pomp and circumstance.
Tuesday: Hot Chili and Sailors
After a long weekend and a recovery process which was more painful than expected (never mix free wine, Champagne and liquor), I was back on my foot for some action. The usual life should have taken me back to be a studious student, but my head was still shrouded in clouds. I took my time and started to actually enjoy the campus which surrounded me and the company of people. Coming back to my flat that night I had the pleasure to meet Alice and Georgie two friends of my roommate Nathan a Welsh young man who his usually the life of the place. I had an interesting discussion with the two ladies before realizing that Nath had left them behind. Dressed like sailors they were headed toward Joe’s the campus bar. In a gentleman fashion I asked if they needed help to find their way there and they accepted.
After reaching the student bar I spotted the President of the hall resident running games in a corner. I approached her and decided that tonight I would simply stay away from books and enjoy the youth of the other residents of my hall. Well soon enough I had a drink in hand and discussing different topics. After a short period there a game of “hot Chili” was proposed the aim was simply to chew for 10 seconds and then eat one Jalapeno. The price being a free consumption at the bar, I did not took part and just enjoyed seeing the grimacing faces of the young people surrounding me. The young woman in charge then pulled two green peppers from a small bag and offered to pay a drink to whoever would chew his pepper the longest. I had every intention not to participate until I was challenged by young Alice. Being brisked in my masculinity I accepted the challenge in which neither participant was a winner. My price was to spend £5 on ice cream to be able to recover. For those interested I chewed for a minute and 20 seconds which for someone with no taste for spicy food is pretty good in my view.
Wednesday: Interviews and Clubbing
Another interesting day, another piece of the puzzle. The day started with myself being uninterested in the work pilling up on my desk. I preferred to do research on the firms partaking interview and recruitment seminar held later in the afternoon. An event thrown by target job it placed about 40 students law and non-law in the settings which they would soon face if they wanted to enter the legal procession. Three large law firms sent their representatives to school us on the techniques to use in assessment centres, group activity and interview process. I learned a great deal about what those firms were looking for during those recruitment event but also a lot about those who wished to enter the overcrowded legal market. A profession as or even more cutthroat than any-other, what could motivate many to run toward their doom and a few toward great success and more importantly how could one know which of the two outcomes was waiting for them. I did not answer the question that day but I did start the process of questioning my own motives.
The evening was the inverse of deep thinking. With my roommate entertaining guest I joined in a pre-drink following which I was successfully swayed into going out by the two ladies I met the night before. In a charming and flirting way they reminded me I was still a young single man, that even-though I knew they were playing with me for their own amusement. I enjoyed the night with a young crowd which was as foreign to me as it was welcoming. I was not complete as a studying drone and a professional I needed and still need human interaction. Saturday had planted the seed and Wednesday had made sure to nurture it.
Thursday: Election day!
Yet another late start, waking up at 10 or 11 am going to the window to see the frigid temperature and going back to bed. Nothing would have seems so great on Thursday but to stay in bed and be lazy. I was otherwise motivated as two friends of mine were in the running for elected positions in the Holdworth club. The Holdsworth club is one of the oldest law student association and count many great presidents across its history. Moreover being able to cite your position in the executive is likely to advantage you when job and internship hunting. So at 2 pm I made my way toward “Old Joe”, not knowing what the day had in store for me. Upon arrival, I was swamped by candidate shoving cakes and sweets in my face telling me their names and slogans. Although shocked at first by the human wave I started to realize how with 2 hours to go before the polls closed some of them were anxious and despaired. I made my way in and cast my ballot to come back outside soon after. The mood was not excessively joyful for the next hour or so were I joined the fray trying to snatch last minute votes for my friends. I felt for those which hope was slipping away minute by minute. What would be the difference between failure and success? They would not know until the evening rolled in.
That evening I joined the hopefuls at Urban Village a little pub not far from my flat. Crowded in a small private section made of couch the results were announced. One of my friend was elected as Graduate Rep while the other lost to the incumbent for inns of Court Rep. Listening to the result with a defeated candidate while texting the result to a successful and newly elected representative brought me clout about the impact of failure on the human mind and inversely the effect of success. Listening to my learned colleague of Cornwall I viewed the broad difference which existed in the real and imagined impact of a small victory such as one in student politics. In a certain way for the winner it places them on a self-fulfilling prophecy road toward better employment prospect, while the cost of defeat was the scaring of the ego and the lost of faith in one set of skills and ability. Although wholly unrelated, is it possible that the experience of success is the only thing necessary in the building of momentum which lead to further achievements? Yet another night and another question non-answered.
Saturday: St-Patrick
After a night out in a presumed Lesbian pub the Friday night, a small group of Canadian graduate students decided to meet in a proper English pub for St-Patty. We entered the place for brunch at 11 am and some of us would stay until the belt was rang to push us toward the exit. After an amazing plate of egg Benedict and a couple of Guinness the day was truly well on its way, the sole miscalculation we did was that we were in the hearth of England where people do not take kindly the celebration of a community which 30 years ago would have bombed the same type of pub in which we were sitting. The fact that England and Ireland were also playing in the six nation cup for dominance in rugby that same afternoon also did not help. By 2pm I decided to walk away from Harborne and its fancy Michelin restaurants and head back to Selly Oak my student ghetto. Later that day I received a phone call from one of my colleague asking if I could bring some tea to the common room of the residence hall. I accepted the request and joined two proud Englishman watching the rugby game. They then started to pelted me with question as to why the Canadians and the Americans celebrated St-Patrick day. After a rather long discussion on the immigration pattern and root of most Canadian, I questioned my acquaintances on why they felt so obfuscated by us celebrating. I received a response which I did not expect, they went into the issue of how they as Englishmen could not celebrate St-Georges day without being accused of being EDL (English Defence League) supporters. For those who don’t know this group is known in the UK as being intolerant of immigrant and especially of Islam. This raised question of identity and what does it means to be proud of who you are. I always and will always associate myself as a Canadian, but after a rather heated discussion with a fellow Canadian graduate accusing me of being a Québecer thus not a Canadian. What does it means to be proud of ones root without flogging it in the face of other.
Reflecting on the Mayhem
By the time I finished to write this piece(2012-03-25), the term as ended and I am now in the process of revising one year of rather thorough exploration of the law. What I learned from being “switched off” for a week carried into my study schedule. I have understood that the difference between successes and failures is more subjective than objective; that by comparing goals and roots one need to be careful to remember his or her motivations. Why am I here and where am I going? Well those questions are for another day, for now I need to run to the Law library. Just take a moment to think for yourself before barging into a critical assessment of where you are…
mstrdumont 