Graduation. Supposedly some life-changing event. Some
recognizable feat. Something to be congratulated. Something to give you that
added significance to your life and your title. Why yes, I am a Bachelor of
Science. At some point within the next decade of my life I’ll be a Master or a
Doctor. Fancy. In truth, nothing will really change in my life except the
titles. I’ll go from single-student-part-time office assistant-researcher-TA to
single-unemployed-college graduate. Excuse me, single-unemployed-Bachelor of
Science.
Graduating should be exciting right? I mean this is the
sitcom period of life: going to clubs, dating tons of people, having a job
that’s rarely portrayed on screen and goofing off the rest of the time, hanging
out with strange but somehow loveable friends in some big city… all conveniently
set at prime time getting the viewership of 20-30 year olds in “similar”
situations… except by similar I mean quite a bit less hilarious, with little to
no satisfying wrap-ups after a half hour conflict, and the added bonus of the
sorrow, loneliness, and pain of real life. I mean I often find my life
hilarious and fun, in an unscripted, sarcastic, exaggerated, audacious, and
reckless sort of way. But it's a lot more than that. Not usually like a sitcom.
Anyway, I’ll still be in Provo , the place I was planning on leaving as
soon as I could. I’ll still be in student housing, which I also planned on
leaving ASAP. I’ll still be car-less, though I’m coming to the realization more
and more that a bike simply won’t cut it for real employment so that will have
to change. (Sorry, William. You are the most wonderful and reliable of my
possessions and I’m still amazed that your non-professional grade frame has taken me
hundreds of miles). People I love are still leaving. I’ll still have the same
problems and worries and misunderstandings and far-off hopes that may never
come to fruition. To me, graduation has been a long, drawn out settling in of
disillusionment.
I meet people who have these plans and have been places,
traveled the world, done things and I wonder, why isn’t that me? Why didn’t I
do that? Why don’t I do that right now? I mean I’m graduating… I can do that
stuff now, right? I’ve scrambled through the memories of the last few years of
my life, desperately looking for something I must have missed. I mean I had
plans and options before… Peace Corps, move to LA, Teach for America , etc etc etc. There was
supposed to be a clear SOMETHING to do after school I thought… I mean what was
the point of all that? To get a piece of paper? To get a job? To what? Did I
not do something right? The only clear place I know I’ve royally screwed up and
missed things is in my relationships, romantic and otherwise. That in itself
has been the biggest and most influential trial I’ve been through my whole life
really. But even in that realization and working hard to mend things that have
been broken, I’ve found little solace. That journey at least I know is bigger
and meant to fill my whole life, unlike the others meant for these few years.
So where am I supposed to go?
No matter how many times I learn or realize that life is
never about the outcome, I somehow always get sucked into that way of thinking.
I mean I’ve been rearing at the reigns this whole time to go do something with
my life and now that I’m free, nothing. I feel no pull or purpose. It's like I need
something to fight or to push me in my life. The beautiful thing about school
for me was working relentlessly towards a goal and loving the challenge and the
things I learned. But now I’m at the end. I’m at the completion of this journey
and I feel utterly lost, burnt out, and strangely stuck. The plans I make and
the things I want are falling through. I’ve been desperately holding on to potential
hopes and reasons for me to be here, when I should be letting go. I’m not good
at letting go. It feels wrong and illogical. And so the process of
disentangling me from my ideals and letting them float away has become what
feels like cutting off life vests and buoys to save myself from drowning. Not seemingly
practical or advisable.
The funny thing is, when really looking at the big picture,
I think I’m trying to save myself from drowning in a 3 foot deep lazy river.
Probably the only reason I’m not moving is because I’ve completely entrapped
myself with the inner tubers and floaties of my ideals so as not to die. In consequence I have created an plastic, air-filled blockage in the vascular theme park ride that is my life. Some hypothetical life guards are probably at this moment telling me that only one inner tube is allowed per guest in the lazy river due to safety reasons. In addition, I also have this wonderful
disposition where everything in life is part of some deep, existential essence
and thus any ephemeral crisis is a meaningful and agonizing death. Though the
richness of success is also fully experienced and profoundly beautiful, the somewhat
ridiculousness of the way I feel things is always at the back of my mind. It’s
not that what I feel is wrong, it’s just not lighthearted by any means. I’m
pretty sure studies have suggested that this kind of feeling leads to increased
risks of heart attacks and other such things that I really have no clue about. Heart
attack from fighting everything has been added to the list of likely ways I
will die (right after skin cancer and before reckless endangerment).
Others have learned the art of living freely, without
fighting, and I guess, really, that’s what I’m probably supposed to get out of
this. That nothing is ever really in my hands, yet it all is. It’s mine to act
WITH but not ON. It’s mine to be with but not mine to control. I think that
might be freedom. Finding the balance of accepting the world for what it is and
relinquishing my ever-futile hold on it, while existing purposefully and
honestly. Because, though there is a potential of really getting hurt and dying and tons of horrible things happening, those things are going to happen whether or not I'm desperately trying to control them. I'm too busy trying to not drown that I forget I can swim.
Now to find a job I suppose. That’s what
single-unemployed-Bachelors of Science adults do, right?
I love you. You better come visit me.
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