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Suits Made You Want to Be a Lawyer Until You Read the Bare Act
I’m convinced that half the reason people chose their careers is because of TV shows — not aptitude tests, not guidance counselors, but prime-time dramas with suspiciously attractive professionals in suspiciously dramatic workplaces.
Case in point: You watched Suits at 16, saw Harvey Specter drinking scotch in a corner office, wearing $10,000 suits and making sassy objections in court...and thought, "Yes."
And then, somewhere between the constitutional law paper and the realisation that Indian lawyers don’t yell "Objection!" in a dramatic courtroom while storming out, dreams were adjusted.
Grey’s Anatomy did the same damage. Everyone wanted to be Meredith Grey, saving lives by day and having romantic crises by night. But actual med school is less "elevator kisses" and more "8 hours of anatomy dissection followed by a nap on your textbook."
And journalism? Enter How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. You saw Andie Anderson writing breezy columns in stylish outfits, going undercover for a dating experiment in the name of journalistic integrity. As a media student, I thought, “Damn, that’s the dream.” Now I’m pitching articles to an editor who ghosted me three weeks ago.
Here’s the thing. These shows and movies sold us a dream version of our jobs — shiny, fast-paced, and full of witty banter. But even if the reality is a little dustier and a lot more unpaid, maybe the fantasy is what got us started.
Because maybe chasing a version of Harvey, Meredith, or Andie isn’t the goal. Maybe it’s just the nudge. And after that? We write our own scripts.
#suits#suits usa#harvey specter#mike ross#greys anatomy#meredith grey#how to lose a guy in 10 days#medicine#laweducation#journalism#career
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“AI Is Coming for Your Job!” — Yeah, Okay. Relax.
Let’s retire the whole “AI is going to steal your job” narrative and take a breath. It is not here to replace us — it’s here to work with us. Like a very smart, very quiet coworker who doesn’t take coffee breaks but can organise your mess in seconds. And if we play it right, AI might actually be the best work buddy we’ve ever had.
Here's how.
1. AI Handles the Boring Stuff, So We Don’t Have To
Nobody wakes up thrilled to format spreadsheets, dig through emails, or rewrite the same three paragraphs for the fifth time. That’s where AI shines — in the repetitive, brain-draining tasks that eat up hours of human potential.
Let it summarise the Zoom call while you focus on the big idea. Let it schedule your meetings while you work on the actual presentation. AI’s great at admin; we’re great at vision.
2. It’s Not a Rival, It’s a Creative Assistant
Writers, designers, marketers — AI isn’t here to "take your art away." It’s here to give you more room to create. Stuck on a headline? Ask AI for five options. Need colour palette inspo? Let AI show you a mood board. Want a rough draft to react to instead of starting from a blank page? You know it.
You’re still the voice. The editor. The curator. AI just gives you a faster runway.
3. Emotional Intelligence Still Runs the Show
No matter how smart AI gets, it still can’t feel your team’s mood after a bad client call. It won’t notice that someone’s overwhelmed just by their tone of voice, or come up with an idea based on the weird dream you had last night.
That stuff — empathy, ethics, timing, intuition — is human-only territory. And it's not going anywhere.
TL;DR: It’s Not Human vs AI. It’s Human + AI.
This isn’t a robot uprising. It’s an evolution of how we work. The best jobs of the future aren’t about beating AI — they’re about teaming up with it. Think Iron Man and JARVIS. You in the suit, AI in your ear.
So no, AI won’t take your job. But the people who know how to work with it? They might. ;)
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"I want AI to do my laundry and dishes so that I can do art and writing, not for AI to do my art and writing so that I can do my laundry and dishes."
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After Hours – The Weeknd’s Magnum Opus
Let’s not dance around it: After Hours is The Weeknd’s best album.
It’s not just the aesthetic (though the red suit + bleeding face + neon lights combo was high-concept perfection). It’s not just the production (though that synthwave-drenched, cinematic soundscape feels like driving alone at night in a city you don’t know). It’s the way After Hours took everything Abel Tesfaye had ever done — and sharpened it into something timeless.
This is the album where the hedonism has consequences. The party is still going, sure, but the comedown is vicious. The lyrics ache with regret. The melodies stretch into sorrow. And yet, it’s all wrapped in beats that make you want to dance in the dark anyway.
And here’s where Michael Jackson comes in.
The Weeknd has always worn his MJ influence proudly — those falsetto vocals, the melodic phrasing, the list is endless. But After Hours feels like the first time he stepped into those shoes not just as a fan, but as a true heir.
“Blinding Lights” has a beat that could’ve lived on Thriller. “Hardest to Love” echoes the emotional weight of Bad. And “Scared to Live”? That’s Off the Wall energy through a filter of heartbreak and reverb.
So yes, After Hours is The Weeknd’s Thriller. His masterpiece. His moonwalk across modern pop. And even as he evolves with Dawn FM and Hurry Up Tomorrow, this album stands still in time for me; like a flickering neon sign over a city that never sleeps.
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Cigarettes, Cinemas, and Sad Girls: The Aesthetic of Lana Del Rey
Lana Del Rey isn’t just a singer. She’s a whole aesthetic ecosystem. To listen to her music is to step into a dreamy, crumbling world where Hollywood is faded, femininity is melancholic, and every cigarette is smoked in soft focus.
Her aesthetic is part nostalgia, part rebellion, and part longing. It’s vintage Americana filtered through a sepia-toned sadness. Think: old motel signs, VHS grain, Catholic iconography, cherry cola lips, and endless references to Elvis, Sylvia Plath, and guns.
But here’s the thing: Lana’s aesthetic isn’t just about “pretty sad girl” visuals. It’s a deliberate collage of contradictions. Glamour and decay. Femininity and fatalism. Innocence and danger. Her characters are the girls who’ve seen too much but still wear white dresses. They’re vulnerable, agreed. But there’s a certain power in that softness.
And maybe that’s why it resonates so deeply. She makes sadness feel cinematic. She makes yearning look cool. And for anyone who's ever been a little too nostalgic, a little too emotional, or a little too obsessed with doomed love stories — Lana gets it.
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Breaking Bad – When a Midlife Crisis Meets Pure Chaos
What starts as “man cooks meth to provide for family” slowly becomes “man blows up everything because pride.” Walter White is one of the greatest characters in TV history. Not because he’s likable, but because he’s so painfully human.
Watching Breaking Bad is like sitting on a rollercoaster with no seatbelt. You know it’s going downhill, you just don’t know when or how badly. And every time you think it’s hit peak chaos…it goes further.
Then there’s Jesse Pinkman, the lost puppy of the series. He makes bad decisions and worse friends, but somehow he’s the emotional center. You root for him even when he’s falling apart. Especially then.
It’s not a show you “casually” watch. You commit. You spiral. You argue with friends about whether Walt really had a choice. And you probably google “RV disposal methods” at least once.
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“Tuesdays with Morrie” – Lessons in Living, from a Man Who Was Dying
Sometimes, the most profound books don’t shout — they just sit there quietly, like a retired professor in a cozy armchair, waiting for you to listen. Tuesdays with Morrie is that kind of book. It’s simple, honest, and sneakily emotional. You think you’re just reading about an old man with ALS talking to a former student, then suddenly you’re reconsidering your life choices, texting your mom back, and wondering why you haven’t had a proper conversation in weeks.
Morrie Schwartz isn’t trying to be inspiring; he just is. He talks about love, death, family, forgiveness. And it all somehow lands. Maybe because it’s not sugar-coated. Morrie doesn’t pretend life is perfect. He just says: “Pay attention to it anyway.”
It’s a book you’ll finish in a day, but carry with you for a while. Like a moral hangover…but in a good way!
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