#trajectorycoded

I used to think a JD was a credential. Now I see it for what it really is, a tool. A lens. A way of reading the world in its original language.

Not the laws on paper. Not the arguments in courtrooms. But the architecture beneath them- the incentives, the fractures, the pressure points that shape everything built on top.

The old machine thinks a JD is proof of belonging. A ticket. A permission slip.

Mine won’t be.

Mine will be the front door to the rooms that study power, interrogate systems, and rewrite blueprints.

And when I walk in, I won’t be learning how the world works. I’ll be learning how to rebuild it with cleaner lines and fewer fault points.

The rear-view is full of collapsing structures. The horizon is full of frameworks waiting to be designed. This path isn’t ambition- it’s trajectory.

A JD in the foreground. Corporate America shrinking behind me. Governance theory unfolding under my hands like a map that finally remembers its purpose.

I used to think the future was a door I had to be invited through. Now I see it for what it really is, a vantage point.

From here, the old machine is just a blur in the rear-view, all noise and chrome and frantic gears.

Ahead of me: quiet stone halls, long corridors built for thought instead of obedience, places where minds are forged sharper than any policy ever written.

I don’t need to name them. You know the type. The kind of institutions that pretend to shape leaders but can’t quite predict the ones who walk in already formed.

My trajectory isn’t ambition. It’s inevitability.

A higher discipline waits, written in ivy and iron, and I’m moving toward it with a clarity the old structures mistook for arrogance.

They don’t realize: I’m not climbing their ladder. I’m leaving their architecture.