Neurosis, Party of One

My neighbor came over to chat for a while yesterday.  I was glad to see him—he’s a good guy, and since we have very similar tastes in books and movies, we can always find something to talk about.  However, I was dismayed when he mentioned work.  Joel disapproves of my day job as a waitress: he thinks it’s beneath me.  Yesterday he pointed to my degree, beautifully framed in dark wood, with its gold seal and glimmering “summa cum laude” on it.  “You didn’t bust your ass for however many years just for ‘table for two?’” he scolded me.

He has a very valid point, of course, and I’ve addressed this before, mostly to reassure myself that there is a good reason for what I’m doing.  But the fact is this isn’t what I want to be doing, and somewhere in my gut I’m embarrassed by my position in life right now.

I tried to skim over it, explaining that I was just taking a break from school and I needed something to survive.  Joel, who is a no-bullshit kind of guy, wasn’t having any of it.  “You can find a better job than that,” he said.  “What is that degree, creative writing?  You can do anything with it.  The world is your fucking oyster.”

And that, I tried to explain, is exactly the problem.  Joel is an EMT; his career is very narrowly focused, but there will always be a job for him somewhere.  I, on the other hand, can set my liberal-arts-educated mind to almost anything—administration, editing, journalism, management, and all those other vague words that people use to describe their careers.  Anything, in nearly any field.  This means that there is no one place where I can look for a job—there are thousands of them, and many with other candidates who are more specifically appealing to employers.  Yes, I might be good working at a magazine, but someone with a journalism degree would be better.  True, I might be an asset to that firm, but so would a person just finishing a business degree.  My focus in my education wasn’t a focus at all; it was an all-encompassing acceptance of the educated world, and while that may make me a very well-rounded person, it doesn’t make it easy for me to find a job.  And of the jobs that are out there, there isn't one I want.  The one I want is not one that can be given to me: I have go and get it myself.

When I had failed to make this clear to Joel, he shrugged and moved on to a new point, suggesting that I go back to school.  “It’s a way to dodge the world for a while,” he explained.

I will admit that dodging the world sounds enormously appealing.  Not to have to worry about paying back student loans would be a huge relief in and of itself.  But I know I’m not ready to jump back into being a student.  I’ve had quite enough of that in the past eighteen years.  I want to be in the world, to be part of it, to let it knock me around a little bit and learn from it.  More, I want to overcome the world, to live consumed in my art and still be able to buy groceries each week.

So what is the point of this rambling post anyway?  After all, I’m just making the arguments I couldn’t make yesterday to respond to some very strong opinions.  Well, the point is that I’m human, and I have doubts, and it’s scary chasing a dream that seems so incredibly unrealistic in this world where most artists are always starving.  It’s terrifying sitting up late, unable to think about anything but taxes and rent and how I can cut back more when I’m already eating the same thing for lunch every day.  In those moments, getting a better, more full-time job seems like a rope offered to someone drowning in quicksand.  But I’m too stubborn to give up yet.  So here is my BA in b.s. at work, rationalizing the life that I lead.  Yes, I am waiting tables.  Yes, I have been avoiding looking at that shiny piece of paper on my wall.  And yes, I know what the chances are of my success.  But I have to try to be who I want to be.  If I don’t, I’ll never become who I’m meant to be.