Not your Blueprint: Reclaiming My Right to Do it Differently

There’s an unspoken blueprint for how to “do” law school.

From day one, the path is laid out in bold, rigid lines. It’s made clear, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, that veering off that track is risky. But what happens when you know in your gut that the path carved for everyone else doesn’t fit the life you’re trying to build?

This is what I’ve learned: it’s not reckless to follow your own direction, it’s radical, it’s freeing, and for me, it’s necessary.

Choosing a different Kind of Excellence

After my first year of law school, filled with more courses that drained me than inspired me, I knew I wasn’t willing to do things just for the sake of dressing up my resume. I am not interested in checking boxes that don’t reflect my actual goals or identity. Thus, I didn’t join journal, not because I wasn’t capable, but because I knew there were other spaces better aligned with my interests.

Instead, I pursued advocacy in a different form through the National Alternative Dispute Resolution (ADR) Team. ADR gave me the chance to develop skills that are just as critical as writing: negotiation, communication, and creative problem-solving. Being on a team again allowed me to lean into collaboration over combat, something often missing from the traditional law school experience, and something that has always been important to me.

Still, not following the traditional path came with noise.

“You’re not on journal?”

“That’s… interesting.”

The subtext was loud: “Are you sure you know what your doing?”

To be honest, no. I don’t have it all figured out, but who really does in law school? What I do know is that I’m making space for something different; but most importantly, the mantra I return to, again and again, is simple: it always works out for me.

Each summer during law school, I’ve followed a professional curiosity that didn’t always “make sense” on paper but made perfect sense to me. My first legal internship was in the cosmetics space. Some saw that choice as soft or unserious. But I saw law everywhere in that space: intellectual property, brand protection, consumer rights, labor law. I was still learning, and expanding my legal understanding.

This summer, I’m stepping into another “unexpected” legal environment the music industry. Again, I’ve been met with curious looks, polite nods that don’t hide judgment. But here’s the truth: music is law-rich terrain. Licensing, publishing, contracts. It’s complex, fast-moving, and deeply tied to the way culture is made and monetized.

And to be completely honest, I don’t fully know where I’m headed. I’m not following a perfectly mapped-out plan. I’m following my gut, my curiosity, and the doors that open when I show up prepared and passionate. My path has always been about alignment over predictability, about staying open to possibilities.

That’s why I dread the question: “So, what kind of law do you want to practice?”
Because the truth is I don’t have a simple answer. I don’t want to give a polished response that feels more like performance than truth. I want to say: I’m figuring it out. I’m paying attention to what lights me up. I trust that my interests and work ethic will keep guiding me where I’m meant to be.

But how do you explain that to a stranger especially one who already has a fixed image of what attorneys are “supposed” to do? Someone who hears “law student” and immediately thinks litigation, courtrooms, and firms without imagining the rich, dynamic ways the law can shape creative, corporate, and cultural spaces?

Still, I remind myself: I’m not here to fit their image. I’m here to build my own.

But that part is hard. More often than not, I default to the simple answer, the one that’s digestible, neat, and doesn’t require me to unravel all of my passions and side quests to a stranger.

“Intellectual Property.”
“Sports and Entertainment.”
“Regulatory Compliance.”

I respond with a smile.

But behind those tidy labels is a deeper truth: a desire to protect the people who shape culture. A desire to ensure creators get what they’re owed in their contracts and deals. A drive to bring the law into spaces like music, beauty, business where ethics, fairness, and compliance are too often treated like afterthoughts.

Quieting the Critics that Don’t Get It

Sometimes, advice doesn’t come from people trying to box me in, it comes from those who’ve succeeded in this field and genuinely want to help. I respect that. I appreciate that. But even then, I’ve had to learn that what worked for them isn’t always for me. I’ve been told, “This path will put you ahead, in terms of pay.” I get it money matters. But not all of us came to law school just for the paycheck. That can be hard for some to understand; however so many students I’ve met have always dreamed of becoming public defenders or working in public interest. For them, it was never about chasing the biggest paycheck, and that reminds me that fulfillment doesn’t always come with a dollar sign. And let me be clear—this is no shade to public interest attorneys. A hill I will gladly die on is this: money grows where passion flows. So stop telling students they’ll be stuck eating ramen and PB&Js for life if they follow their purpose. What’s truly expensive is abandoning your joy for a salary that can’t fix your soul, but also they’re doing just fine financially I’m sure of it.

More importantly, no matter the path I choose, the microaggressions will come. Whether it’s being mistaken for the client, or having “Esq.” conveniently left off the email response, a title will have I earned. So if I’m going to be in this fight, a fight I’ve never wavered from why would I fight for someone else’s standard instead of the one that makes my heart sing?

I don’t aspire to be the next wheel in a prestige machine. That was never the goal. I’m not chasing titles for clout or contorting myself to fit into someone else’s version of “success.” I’m building a career rooted in intention, one that values curiosity, creativity, and purpose just as much as credentials.

Be Bold

There is no single way to be excellent. There is no one route to fulfillment. And just because they’ve never seen it done your way before doesn’t mean it can’t be done.

You have the right to do it differently. Reclaim that right—boldly.

Because the truth is, there’s power in choosing a path that honors your passions, even when it’s not easily categorized. There’s courage in trusting your instincts in a profession that constantly tells you to follow the script. And there’s freedom in knowing that your story—untraditional, unpolished, unfinished—is still worthy, still valuable, and still valid.