We Used to Wait

We still do, but we used to, too.

* * *

Patience rewarded: I finished my PhD in August 2018. You can tell from my lack of blog posts between now and then that my "Story So Far" post set it all up to be much more exciting than it actually was. Let's revisit: 

My peers in the PhD program have achieved the same things I have; while our individual stories have differences in detail, our baseline experiences, accomplishments and sensibilities are much the same.

I underestimated how different everyone in the program was and is. Our backgrounds were not really that similar, our goals in the PhD program certainly weren't, and our paths to completion varied considerably.

Had I taken a job in Houston, I suppose I would be in a similar situation ... But I feel like moving 1300 miles northeast is more of a reboot than taking Highway 6 over to Houston, buying a 2014 Chevy truck, and renting a shitty apartment.

I took M-14 over to Detroit, bought a 2013 GMC truck, and bought a shitty house.

I may have been things down south but they have been left behind; today I am just another grad student from a far away land. The novelty is exciting. My concern is that I have devalued what I used to consider important in order to chase notoriety, money and power.

There is no notoriety, money, or power associated with a mechanical engineering doctoral program. Next. (Also, not using the Oxford comma? Come on homes.)

So I’m missing face-to-face interaction with my closest friends and family… and my car. That doesn’t seem too bad when I put it that way, especially considering I am not required to be here forever.

Narrator: You're here forever. But you can afford a shitty house with a shitty garage to put your shitty car in that you towed 1300 shitty miles northeast with your shitty pickup truck.

What am I getting in return?

I think my original answer holds up well:

An education. Or more accurately, an escalation of my education. I’m already highly educated relative to the other seven billion people on the planet. So I’m getting more, just to rub it in their faces. Apparently.

To be honest, I have no regrets about my schooling and how it has set my life up. But I wouldn't claim my path is right for everyone. That's something I'm more sure of now than ever.

 

The Story So Far

The problem with escalation is that it makes you take previous accomplishments for granted. My peers in the PhD program have achieved the same things I have; while our individual stories have differences in detail, our baseline experiences, accomplishments and sensibilities are much the same. This tends to make one less appreciate their own achievements, because it appears everyone else has done the same shit.

Had I taken a job in Houston, I suppose I would be in a similar situation: one where the entry requirements are high enough to make me nothing special. But I feel like moving 1300 miles northeast is more of a reboot than taking Highway 6 over to Houston, buying a 2014 Chevy truck, and renting a shitty apartment.

I may have been things down south but they have been left behind; today I am just another grad student from a far away land. The novelty is exciting. My concern is that I have devalued what I used to consider important in order to chase notoriety, money and power.

The question is, what do I consider important? What exactly have I devalued, at least for the time being?

• Family
• Friends
• Hobbies

I still talk to my family and friends, thanks to technology. What I can’t do is talk to them in person. My hobbies are mostly intact, with the exception of my absent, once-perennial companion, a 1989 Nissan. Now it’ll sit and rot until I have the space for it up here. So I’m missing face-to-face interaction with my closest friends and family… and my car. That doesn’t seem too bad when I put it that way, especially considering I am not required to be here forever.

What am I getting in return?

An education. Or more accurately, an escalation of my education. I’m already highly educated relative to the other seven billion people on the planet. So I’m getting more, just to rub it in their faces. Apparently.

But I’m not pursuing an advanced degree for money, power or notoriety. I’m pursuing it because it’s the next step of my development. I didn’t agonize over the implications of learning to read when I did so in kindergarten; I now don’t agonize over the implications of staying in school.

I hate feeling this way. How is what I currently am not good enough? At what point did I decide I wasn’t in charge of my own future and that I must continue on, checking perceived requirements off of my to-do list?

I don’t know. But I’m here now, and fuck it, let’s see what happens next.

Short Story: Two Doors

Overdrawn. Laid off. Looking for anything for the time being. Hourly. Streaks of street lights, halogen, as money leaves the tail pipe and eyelids droop down. Back home.

The alarm clock doesn’t need to be alarming. It can display the time. It doesn’t need to remind anyone of anything.

Phone ringing. Maybe he should have gotten up earlier. Stumbling over cans on the way to the bathroom, phone pinched to his shoulder.


Can I come in today? Yeah, yeah, I can make it.

Fucking ties. The fabric things. Ones you wear on necks.

Driving surface streets now: traffic lights. Water temperature a little hot.

Didn’t know where to park.

Finally inside. Two sets of doors. Air curtain. Nice place. Leased.

Too much experience---why are you here?

Didn’t matter. They’d call.

Back outside, through the two doors. Looking for his car, has two doors.

Found it. Couldn’t chirp the horn. Not keyless.

Driving back, surface streets, the loop, outside the perimeter.

Shitty rented place.

Squalor.

DAY'S NEW END

My mind is getting weaker; I'm aware of its limitations.
I'd compromise so much if she'd let me alter her abbreviation.

TRY MY LUCK

Check out my SoundCloud for more shit. <3

A WALK IN THE PARK

Made with pencil, paper, digital camera, GIMP and iMovie.

Some more music:



Really like how this one came out:

DEAD PRESIDENTS