H was one of the very first people that I had any interaction with at law school. During orientation week, she sat right next to me in one of our daily classes. On the other side of H was E (from day 46), and the three of us did small, rather meaningless groupwork together for the entirety of the worst week ever. I've rarely felt as inadequate as I did in those moments. I may be smartish, but the two of them were big city, $1,400-per-month-in-rent smart, whereas I was small town in Idaho, $535-per-month-in-rent smart. Looking back, I laugh about it, but at the time, it was entirely disheartening.
I'd mostly forgotten about the time I spent with H during hell week until she mentioned it today. My wife and I met up with her for some ice cream, and she fascinated us both with the story that is her life. She was interesting, genuine, and humble in her success. Additionally, she intrigued me with the idea that perhaps a lot of people are, like me, accidental attorneys. Whereas one really has to plan ahead in order to apply to medical school, one can apply to law school without giving it any prior consideration. If you've completed your undergrad, you're good to go. Just sign up and take the entrance exam. No special degrees or even classes are required. Think Elle Woods. It's not that she didn't deserve or wasn't good enough to go to law school, but that sort of going-on-a-whim mentality just isn't possible with medical school.
I don't know that being able to label myself an accidental attorney will necessarily have any effect on my life, but it's an interesting concept nonetheless. I've always fancied myself a bit Kramer-esque, in that I tend to fall into things and have them work out in my favor. So perhaps I'm not simply an accidental attorney, but an accidental everything. At some point, that may come back to bite me, but for now, it seems to be working. I was an accidental baby and will probably be an accidental death, so I figure that, for not at least, I might as well lead an accidental existence.