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Published On: Dec 13, 2003 06:52 PM
Total entries in this category:
Published On: Dec 13, 2003 06:52 PM
30,000 feet in the air
I'm currently somewhere over 30,000 feet in the air,
due North of Cleveland and about 475 miles away from New York. They say we
should be arriving at the gate in exactly an hour.
I'm currently somewhere over 30,000 feet in the air,
due North of Cleveland and about 475 miles away from New York. They say we
should be arriving at the gate in exactly an hour. The trip has been uneventful
so far—Living
History.
I'm still not sure how I feel about having finally vanquished that master's degree. It's been an ongoing anxiety of mine since almost the day I started it, almost eleven years ago. Back in 1992, having just graduated from Pomona College with some bitter feelings toward the world (which I may get into someday) I had started out with the ambition to be some sort of artist. At the time I thought I would be a musician. I spent an incredible summer proving myself in the corporate world as I tried to summon up enough money to pay to go to a music school.
The (flawed) logic was that in this desired departure from the math/science world that I had spent so many years preparing for, I should pick a strategically familiar medium. I'd studied piano for ten years before college, plus six years playing Trumpet in Junior High and High School, so I figured it gave me a tactical advantage. As I mentioned, I had an incredible summer in San Diego earning money for the upcoming schooling that would lead to my becoming some rock 'n roll star. Yeah right.
That endeavor had been such a failure (the school turned out to be a dumping ground for high school graduates who weren't going to college, whose parents had decided to accommodate, and who needed help learning how to read music. I had gone because I lacked the social skills and wanted to find a place that would help me hook up with people and join a band. It just wasn't a good idea and it only took a few months to realize my folly.
That left me in the dilemma of being a college graduate, supposedly self-sufficient with college loans that would need attention, and with no idea what to do with my life since the "sudden" desire to pursue the arts had already fallen into catastrophe. I fled home to Colorado, and with no better idea, I decided to pursue graduate school. My grades in college hadn't been all that good, so I took up the strategy of taking two (really hard) beginning courses ST530 and ST640 (Mathematical Statistics and Linear Models) and acing both as a testimony that I had the stuff. A bit of fast-talking and the department chair hesitantly admitted me.
In retrospect, signing up for grad school is the single greatest regret of my life. Not that the professors were nasty or anything like that. To their credit I think the Statistics Department and CSU still stands for rigor and integrity. I just didn't belong there. I tried to make the best of a bad thing, but my heart wasn't in it, and my grades reflected the fact. Coupled with a masters project that originated outside the department and had logistical and political problems, I finally fled after four years.
The five years in New York were the best of my life. I really grew and came to realize my strengths and capabilities. I left in 2002 not because I disliked New York, but I knew I had to go elsewhere to continue growing. All that time, however, my Mom continuously campaigned for me finish the degree. She had a valid point, considering that I'd already finished all the coursework, and it seemed like it would otherwise be a waste of four years. I just felt bitter because the degree was in a field I would never use, and it represented so much flailing around in my twenties while everyone else seemed to know what they were doing.
But I came to realize that I was hamstrung with this albatross still hanging on my neck. I could never truly commit to anything, especially after the move to LA, because I knew I had to finish the degree and that would take at least of month of uninterrupted time to do. I'll admit to several months of procrastination, but as anyone who's read my blog from the beginning would know, I finally went in there and finished it.
So now I finally sit thinking, unencumbered by this specter to which I had grown so accustomed, about the future. With the end of a year, the new SAG membership, the finished degree... there's potential for this to mark a new beginning—a new chapter. I just have to believe in it and light a fire under my butt.
By the way, I'm finishing this in Manhattan. I survived the trip without event. I'm sipping a Sakitini (Martini with Saki instead of Vermouth) and catching up with Bob. So I'm signing off now.
I'm still not sure how I feel about having finally vanquished that master's degree. It's been an ongoing anxiety of mine since almost the day I started it, almost eleven years ago. Back in 1992, having just graduated from Pomona College with some bitter feelings toward the world (which I may get into someday) I had started out with the ambition to be some sort of artist. At the time I thought I would be a musician. I spent an incredible summer proving myself in the corporate world as I tried to summon up enough money to pay to go to a music school.
The (flawed) logic was that in this desired departure from the math/science world that I had spent so many years preparing for, I should pick a strategically familiar medium. I'd studied piano for ten years before college, plus six years playing Trumpet in Junior High and High School, so I figured it gave me a tactical advantage. As I mentioned, I had an incredible summer in San Diego earning money for the upcoming schooling that would lead to my becoming some rock 'n roll star. Yeah right.
That endeavor had been such a failure (the school turned out to be a dumping ground for high school graduates who weren't going to college, whose parents had decided to accommodate, and who needed help learning how to read music. I had gone because I lacked the social skills and wanted to find a place that would help me hook up with people and join a band. It just wasn't a good idea and it only took a few months to realize my folly.
That left me in the dilemma of being a college graduate, supposedly self-sufficient with college loans that would need attention, and with no idea what to do with my life since the "sudden" desire to pursue the arts had already fallen into catastrophe. I fled home to Colorado, and with no better idea, I decided to pursue graduate school. My grades in college hadn't been all that good, so I took up the strategy of taking two (really hard) beginning courses ST530 and ST640 (Mathematical Statistics and Linear Models) and acing both as a testimony that I had the stuff. A bit of fast-talking and the department chair hesitantly admitted me.
In retrospect, signing up for grad school is the single greatest regret of my life. Not that the professors were nasty or anything like that. To their credit I think the Statistics Department and CSU still stands for rigor and integrity. I just didn't belong there. I tried to make the best of a bad thing, but my heart wasn't in it, and my grades reflected the fact. Coupled with a masters project that originated outside the department and had logistical and political problems, I finally fled after four years.
The five years in New York were the best of my life. I really grew and came to realize my strengths and capabilities. I left in 2002 not because I disliked New York, but I knew I had to go elsewhere to continue growing. All that time, however, my Mom continuously campaigned for me finish the degree. She had a valid point, considering that I'd already finished all the coursework, and it seemed like it would otherwise be a waste of four years. I just felt bitter because the degree was in a field I would never use, and it represented so much flailing around in my twenties while everyone else seemed to know what they were doing.
But I came to realize that I was hamstrung with this albatross still hanging on my neck. I could never truly commit to anything, especially after the move to LA, because I knew I had to finish the degree and that would take at least of month of uninterrupted time to do. I'll admit to several months of procrastination, but as anyone who's read my blog from the beginning would know, I finally went in there and finished it.
So now I finally sit thinking, unencumbered by this specter to which I had grown so accustomed, about the future. With the end of a year, the new SAG membership, the finished degree... there's potential for this to mark a new beginning—a new chapter. I just have to believe in it and light a fire under my butt.
By the way, I'm finishing this in Manhattan. I survived the trip without event. I'm sipping a Sakitini (Martini with Saki instead of Vermouth) and catching up with Bob. So I'm signing off now.
Posted: Sat - December 13, 2003 at 01:55 PM