Changes and the missing head

So I'm taking trial practice, which is cool, although personally I think those of us who have been on two trial teams should get out of it but whatever, it isn't like law school is here to make sense. We have to do a mock trial and I'm representing an insurance company who doesn't want to pay half a million dollars to the wife of this crooked judge who blew the top of his own head off with a shotgun. At first I was pretty pissed I had to represent an insurance company, because let's face it, they are evil by nature. By which I mean, fuck them. Now, here is where I get to how law school is scaring me. I'm taking business associations and have gotten hold of the fact that when a company pays out, it comes out of the pockets of the shareholders. So, OK, they are probably snotty rich fucks anyway so screw them for the most part, but you know, I just can't look at a company as faceless anymore. Now, as I've said before, I was born in a trailer in the sticks and well, where I'm from, you learn to shoot before you learn to do fractions or put your own bra on right. So I'm looking at this cool gory picture of this guy with the top of his head several feet away from the rest of his head and checking out the blood and the shotgun and it becomes very clear to me that this guy's death was a faked accident suicide by some crooked, embezzling liar who is trying to rip off this company that I can no longer call faceless. So I'm actually into representing the company now.

The moral? Law school changes you. I was thinking about this the other day: I really do feel like a different person than about 2 or 3 years ago. I guess that happens anyway if you are paying attention. Once in a while I feel like I'm looking at my life from the outside and like not all of it is sticking to the new me. The existential question? So how many fucking people do you have to be in a lifetime? How do you ever decide anything when you don't know whether future you is going to be on board or not? 27 year old leaky ceiling hungover longhaired hippie me is, quite frankly, shocked that 41 year old, sober, law student me is writing this closing argument defending an insurance company. It leaves open the question whether 64 year old whatever me will approve of what I'm doing today. But then, I guess that's the big question for all of us. For now, I guess I just have to answer this one - how did the top of this guy's head get all the way across the room like that? And for the moment at least, that's pretty cool.