Post Traumatic Graduation Disorder

I hope to God no one reads this...

MICA is over. I finally finished my terminal degree in that big enigmatic subject area of ART. My final show was pretty quiet. I had some nice feedback and accolades from visiting critics, an overall stamp of approval from the faculty and an un-eventful thesis talk that ended with a lot of congratulatory handshakes. My Mom was too sick to make it. My sister did breeze through for a few days to catch the soft open. And...my best friend called me on the phone. (Albeit to tell me she was pregnant...but, at least she called.) Other than that, it went out with a very soft thud. I took Stephen to tapas after and we lamented how the seemingly most important moments of your life, do, often just pass by in a flicker.

The following few weeks after my thesis work was completed, I spent a lot of time with some of my dear MICA friends that I've grown pretty close to. It's amazing how bonded you become while rifling through Deleuzian research trying to figure out why you do this thing called art making.

I still don't know why, by the way.

I left a pretty easy job of being an art director, making about 55k+ a year with benefits to spend about that much plus four years of super-hard work to achieve this illustrious piece of paper that really can't get me a better job. Most people (almost all people) don't even know the first thing about what I studied or what my work is really about. The rest reserve their judgement for why I don't do things more like they do...You know....get a real job....have babies!....pursue incredibly boring hobbies...exchange recipes...talk about dogs...etc, etc.

A friend of Stephen's basically shut me down this week with some comments that really hurt about how I should do commercial photography and not be so picky when trying to find work. Stephen defended my choices and told me in private that if I ever gave up making art again to pursue a full-time job that will take me away from my studio practice, that he would stop me. He, too, understands what it's like to have a calling, albeit a thankless and underpaid one, as a teacher.

My father-in-law took my hand and told me that he saw my website and that he was so proud and the work moved him a lot. My sister-in-law has been a source of positive comments and always seems to have the confidence that I'll find something.

But, it's the negative voices that stay with me.

I still feel SO INCREDIBLY LONELY in this life choice. I feel like I'm letting people down and I can't do anything right. I feel so counter to the culture at times. I am also so fearful that I may have made a mistake with my life.

I feel this way about my religion, too. I've outgrown it...

This is not to be confused with my faith. I still wholeheartedly believe in God. I really do...It's the bullsh*t on Earth I can't reconcile to His goodness. Politicking and Cultural Wars in His name. It sickens me and I'm afraid I was guilty of being a part of a system that oppressed people —just like my former capitalist job.

I just don't fit in with my old life anymore and don't know where I fit now. I can't go back and don't want to, but I'm incredibly fearful of the future. If I didn't have student loans, I'd live off the grid.