Not going to lie… I totally had to google Mr. Marshall McLuhan and as with all things in my life on which I’ve I’ve spent time, I don’t regret it. McLuhan was a Canadian communication theorist. If you didn’t know, I have a Bachelor’s degree in Communication Studies and theory.
So I love theory.
I love the way it sort of explains everything without predicting, without excusing, without generalizing. If it generalized, it would be called a fact, not a theory. A theory leaves room for much, much more creativity, e.g., the theory of evolution or the big bang theory. We’re constantly discovering more and more about our selves as a planet, a (human)race, and as an evolving system. We can look to our past to see what might be in store for our future.
This isn’t always that easy.
For me, this has meant realizing that all of my “big” life journeys came at the last minute.
I was the last person accepted into my high school, where there were only, like, twelve spots. I was easily the least naturally talented person to make the cut for my HS varsity basketball team. I somehow made the “first-chair” spot on the Los Angeles Youth Honors Orchestra that got to play at the Kodak Theatre in Hollywood after having only played for a few years.
I chalked all of these things up to luck. Or mistakes, at best.
I did this with my graduate school opportunity as well.
I was the last person, or so goes the story that I know, that was offered a spot in a program of fifteen graduate students. I was also the person who I saw as being “least qualified.” I thought to myself throughout most of my two years, did they make a mistake? Was I their last resort? Even when comforted by friends in the program who told me that I deserved to be there, I told myself, well, even if I am here by mistake, I’ll make the most of it.
Why? Maybe I can attribute it to the theories I’ve read and identified with: theories of the female psyche, low-confidence, impostor-syndrome, and why we as women typically don’t ask for raises or don’t boast about our attributes. Theoretically.
Theoretically I should have been telling myself during this job-search process that, historically speaking, I haven’t ever gotten things “on-time” or according to (my) plan.
My plan has been to be really organized and have things come easily. (Insert privilege-recognition here).
I HAVE had it relatively easy, but that hasn’t taken the place of some good old fashioned work-ethic, a few thousand dollars worth of loans, and a family that has pushed me to pursue what makes me happy, even if that means a few tears here and there when it doesn’t seem to be working out.
This summer has been an emotional roller coaster of excitement, disappointment, patience, and persistence.
I don’t think it’s been what any one would call easy, but I do remind myself every day that I am so lucky to be surrounded by a family that can and has been supporting my unemployed self. (Again, insert privilege-recognition here).
I have loved helping out with groceries, taking care of/hanging out with my sister, leisurely going on hikes with my parents, and attending all sorts of local entertainments that I didn’t make time to do while I was in college.
It’s a weird feeling to be perfectly happy with all of the above, yet feel discomfort at the fact that this was not my plan. I did not want to be a boomerang child. I did not want to move back home. I did not want to free-load off my parents (although they keep telling me that if I was being paid for my work with my sister, it more than covers the cost of me living here). I simply want my “plan” to work.
But as with all things in my rear view mirror, I should know that these things take time.
I committed to looking for a job in Residential Education IN the Pacific Northwest to be able to be close to my sister, my brother, his wife, and my parents. I committed to that because of my goals for myself, for my career, and for my own mental happiness (for whatever reason, rainy weather totally is my happy place). So here’s to commitments and patience.
Oh, and apologies in advance to my dear boyfriend, Brian. I hope you will grow to love the rain as much as I do. ❤ I’ll buy you a good raincoat when I’ve officially stolen you from the northeast and gotten that full-time job.