"I got out" is not a cliche.

I just got home from a mellow night out with my new frineds from law school.

It’s early morning, November 5, 2005.

Ten years ago, at around the time I walked into Paddy O’s near Faneuil Hall, I would have been dragging a chair over to the door at a bar I won’t name back in the Bronx, ready to earn my sixty bucks a night pretending to be fooled by a bit of Scotch tape, ground up aspirin, and pencil on top of a New York driver’s license.

Tonight, I drank two beers and danced my head off to a fairly-decent cover band, and made jokes about Pennoyer v. Neff.

Ten years ago, around eleven, I’d likely have been drinking cheap beer straight from a pitcher, listening to “Jack & Diane” for the seventeenth time, and wondering just how many generations of freshmen were going to try to hold on to sixteen as long as they could.

Tonight, I sipped a pint of Harp, comforted by the knowledge that, if the band did play “Jack & Diane,” I could leave.

Ten years ago, right about now, I’d likely have been stumbling out the door, weighing the merits of taking a gypsy cab home and not being able to afford breakfast versus risking getting robbed and eating in the morning.

Tonight (this morning?), right about now, I’m sitting at home after a relaxing ride on the T and a pleasant walk.

Ten years ago, at around 2, I’d have been turning on the space heater and hoping the electricity didn’t go.

When I go to bed tonight, my only worry will be that I’ll wake up with a dry throat because my heat is a forced-air system.

Ten years ago I was a dropout, living in a closet, working for whoever would give me a job- housed, fed, and clothed by the grace of my friends and the Salvation Army.

Seven years ago I was a cube monkey, tapping away at keys in the hopes that I’d earn enough of a production bonus to keep the lights on for another month.

Three years ago I walked into an institution of higher education for the first time in eight years, scared out of my wits that I couldn’t cut it.

Tonight, I’m a half-in-the-bag law student who is performing very well at one of the best schools in the country… and nobody at that school knows any of this (although eventually, they may).

There is no greater force than desire. There is no fuel like force of will. There is no motivation like the belief of those close to you. And sometimes, all a guy needs is a hand up.
And with those things, he can do anything.

“I got out” is not a cliche.

Absolutely wonderful and good on you and you have every right to be proud.

*:: except for the law school part ::: *

Welcome to Boston! (assuming you’ve recently arrived).

Otherwise - congrats on a nice night out at Faneuil Hall. I don’t have the energy for that scene anymore, but I’m happy to hear someone does!

Er… and congrats on getting out! It’s an accomplishment you should be proud of.

Good show. Six years ago I was living on unemployment in Iowa, depressed out of my mind and desperately praying I could move back South before winter hit again. Now I’m married to a great woman, living in a great house, and a second-year law student at age 34.

Congratulations, Happy Scrappy Hero Pup. Life is good.

A lot of us wouldn’t be where we are without that hand. Remember to multiply your fortune by giving a few people a hand up over the rest of your life.

You could be blaming everyone but yourself for your circumstances and never getting anywhere, but instead you are celebrating the work you’ve done to get yourself on the road going where you want to go. Good for you. Now, try not do date any psycho broads, 'kay? :smiley:

Good for you. You did it.

YOU.

And look how much more is in front of you, waiting to be seized!