By Katie Stobbart (The Cascade) – Email
Print Edition: March 25, 2015
I finally filled out my graduation request form. For the past few weeks — months — I’ve oscillated between relief and terror. There’s a light at the end of this, but it might not be the sun.
Instead of feeling excited by all the amazing opportunities I may encounter or create when I leave with my crisp parchment, I question things like validity and authenticity and proper use of time — sullenly, because I know this wasn’t a waste of time.
Maybe a major in creative writing was not the most lucrative idea, in light of my accrued debt, underestimated interest, and looming expenses. Maybe I should not have dismissed the idea of personal branding (fancy marketing lingo for “reputation”).
This week, I’ve heard two people use the word “rapport” instead of “reputation” and I thought a lot about that accident of meaning.
Coping mechanisms
Occasionally instead of hacking away at the thicket of work on my desk, I say fuckit and go to Yellow Deli with friends.
Sometimes you really just need company and a good sandwich.
The last time I got overwhelmed I was instructed to lay my head down on my desk and focus on the feel of the cool, solid surface. Think about nothing.
Then make a list of what has to get done just tomorrow.
Then again the next day.
And the next.
I imagine this might come in handy after this is over.
The never-ending to-do list
My to-do list includes, but is definitely not limited to:
Get my passport photo taken, then apply for my passport.
File this year’s taxes and last year’s taxes and …
Apply for jobs. Google, Craigslist. Where am I supposed to look for jobs, again?
Spend four hours redesigning my resume until it looks the same as it did when I started.
Spend more time with my cats. Spend more time with my family.
Spend less on everything.
Clean my entire apartment, wishing I was allowed to paint even one wall without asking.
Don’t lose touch.
I probably shouldn’t hate marketing so much, since it means being picky about jobs and I’m not sure I’m in a position to be picky. Am I?
Someone says this world is going to chew you up and spit you out and it sticks with me.
The half-empty glass has something in it
The receptionist at the dentist office asks me what I’m doing in school. I tell her I’m almost finished a degree in creative writing.
Her daughter writes, she says, but doesn’t want to show it to anyone. I don’t know how to reply. You need a thick skin, I say lamely.
She tells me how much my root canal will “only” cost.
“Well, at least you’ll be able to write about it,” she concludes.
Another real conversation that happened:
What are you going to do after?
After graduation?
Yeah.
Probably live under a bridge and write poetry on the concrete.
I don’t think you’ll live under a bridge.
No?
It’ll be a chorus, for sure.
The closer graduation is, the less ready I feel. Is this how it feels to look out and be blinded by the future?
I’d like to think that light might be the sun.
