Minor Differences in College Life versus Post-Graduate Life

I’m currently working on a post that’s actually substantial, but in the meantime….Lately I’ve been noticing that there are certain things that used to be a normal part of my life in college that are almost completely absent from my life after graduation. Conversely, there are things in my post-graduate life that were never part of my life in college. I’m not talking about big things. Obviously, I don’t go to class every day anymore and I didn’t get a paycheck at the end of every month in college. No, I’m talking about little things like:

1.) YouTube. When I was in school, I spent so much time on YouTube. It was a convenient means of wasting time when I should have been working on papers. Now, the time that I spend tethered to a computer is in an office, where my co-workers and boss could see and hear what I was doing if I started watching videos every half hour. So, I’m really not on YouTube very much anymore, and I’m completely clueless about this whole Harlem Shake phenomenon. (It makes me feel old.)

2.) Walking. I’m willing to bet that I still walk more than the average American since I don’t have my own car. However, when I was a student, walking was built into my day. The longest amount of time I’d spend sitting would be in four-hour seminars, but after the seminar was over, I’d have to stand up and walk home or to the library or to my next class. Now, I spend eight hour days sitting at a desk and I don’t have an excuse to get up and walk around regularly. It’s tough to get used to and my back doesn’t like it much. (And we wonder why Americans have so many health problems.)

3.) Conversations about old-people things. Yesterday, I had a chat with my dad about what exactly a 401(3)b–the non-profit version of a 401(k)–is, under what circumstances you can tap into it, why you need alternative savings as well, and what happens to it if you lose or change your job. I’m very grateful that I have parents who are willing to explain this stuff to me and give me financial advice, but retirement was an issue that never, ever crossed my mind when I was in college.

4.) Feeling dumb. Occasionally I’ll see something on a blog or in the news and it will call up vague memories of something I learned in school that I just can’t remember anymore. Just today I was reading a book on politics that briefly referenced the sociologist Marcuse. I can recall a time when I read some of Marcuse’s work and feverishly crammed notes about him for a test, but for the life of me, I can’t tell you anymore who he was or why he’s important. (I can, however, describe in great detail the couch I was sitting on while doing the cramming. It’s odd what the brain remembers and forgets.) When these instances come up, I feel really dumb–like I should know something that I’ve forgotten. (I also wonder why knowing it at the time seemed so incredibly important, and if it really was so important, why don’t I remember it now?)

5.) New priorities. Of course, learning doesn’t stop just because someone is no longer in school. I now know tons of things about grant writing, fundraising, types of nonprofit designations and what they mean, how to create a social media campaign, and the weird and confusing world of government contracts and subcontracts. These are all things no one ever taught me in school, but they’re things I’ve either picked up interning in the nonprofit world or had to go out and learn myself. So, maybe it’s not that I’m dumb, but the topics I’m interested in learning and my priorities about what I’m learning have definitely changed.

Obviously, when I graduated and entered “the real world” I expected a lot of things to change. These are just some of the minor changes that I either hadn’t expected or hadn’t really thought about until now. It’s strange to think that I’ve been out of school for almost a year now, but in many ways, I’m still thinking of myself in relation to college. Being a student has consumed my identity for most of my life, and while I’d say I’m doing fairly well outside of academia, it’s like that identity hasn’t fully updated yet.

Malls on My Mind

There’s something incredibly monstrous and yet incredibly soothing about strip malls.

There’s one Midwestern strip mall in particular that I like. Like many others, it’s quite a large strip mall–large enough to require its own street signs, and it’s located near other shopping plazas, making the entire area around it a sort of shrine to capitalism. In any one direction, looking out at the horizon, all a person can see are shops.

So it’s quite ironic that all of the times that I’ve been to this particular mall, I’ve had no money. The first time I was there was on a weekend during the summer. The mall was packed with people and I was overwhelmed with the size and architecture of the place. I’ve been to lots of strip malls. I’ve even been to strip malls larger than this particular one, but I’d never been to a strip mall built to resemble small-town America. Or, rather, built to resemble someone’s idea of small town America. In my four years as an undergraduate, I lived in small-town America, and it left me with a strong impression of just how poor people can really be and just how difficult getting a job with barely a high school education can be. In fact, I was living in that small town over the summer and making a small amount of money as a tutor at a program for international students. I’d gotten a year-round taste of just how poor small-town America can be. There was none of the opulence of this mall. None of the wealth. I was overcome with the crowds of people rushing in and out of stores and restaurants. All around me there were Things To Buy: Calvin Klein, Michael Kors, Chanel, Gucci, Coach, Prada. I was also captivated by the ambiance. The stores were all designed to resemble old houses, the streets were lined with street lamps, and there was a mural of white people in Victorian dress riding a trolley. Red telephone boxes sat on the street corners between shops. There were speakers hidden in trees that played music! I felt like I was in a grown-up’s Disney World.

The second time I was at this mall, I was again a broke undergraduate. I was there briefly with a couple of friends when we stopped to pick up some dinner at the Cheesecake Factory nearby. We had come from a Renaissance Festival and were dressed in corsets, long skirts, and boots. We were dressing up in a dressed up town, playing pretend in a pretend town. We were a modern day idea of the Renaissance in a modern day idea of some nostalgic past between the Victorian era and the 1950s. At the time we attracted a lot of stares and strange looks, (a group of tourists was even trying to covertly take out picture) but looking back, we fit right in.

On my third and most recent trip to to this mall, I stopped on my way from a job fair in the area. The job fair had an air of desperation about it. I arrived half an hour early and already a crowd of people had formed around the convention center doors. Some people were wearing suits and ties. Others had on khaki and sneakers. Some had on a strange mix of both casual wear and business attire. I saw button-up shirts and vests mixed with jeans and tennis shoes. People clutched their resumes and carefully checked and double-checked their applications for cashier and food service jobs. Some of them couldn’t have been more than sixteen years old. Others could have been my grandparents. No one smiled or chit-chatted. Instead, they scurried from booth to booth with their eyebrows furrowed and their jaws clenched. Everyone was there because they needed a job–any job!

As soon as I set foot in the mall, however, I felt the mixture of grim determination and despair fade away. There were Things to Buy. How bad could the world be? Even though I couldn’t afford any of the beautiful clothes or cookware that beckoned to me from the windows, I felt comforted to see them. Someday, I thought, someday I will be able to afford all of this. I’ll have my own kitchen that I can stock with ceramic pots and I’ll have a walk-in closet that I can fill with designer suits. I’ll have the money to buy a car and drive out to a place like this for lunch and cocktails with friends. Never mind that I’m planning to make a pittance in non-profit communications. Never mind that I don’t even really care about designer brands. Never mind that I have my own perfectly serviceable cookware.

The mall offered up a dream, and it was a dream that I wanted to live in for a while. I walked up and down the streets. I watched a young man wash the hot pink walls of a Victoria Secret store, which featured large posters of busty, skinny, blond models with flawless skin. I marveled at the neo-Classical fountains, featuring cherubs and Greek god figures, and wondered how they looked so at home next to the Tiffany’s store, designed to resemble a 1950’s-era bank. I saw the local police and the mall security circling the center fountain and felt secure, knowing that I was being watched over. At the mall edge, dwarfed by an enormous XXI Forever store, was a small, nondescript building labeled “Community Center Room.” It seemed so bland in comparison to the colorful, bright ads that surrounded it that I hardly noticed it. I enjoyed the perfectly cultivated trees and flowers, especially the exotic palm trees. Everything looked beautiful and bright and pleasant. It’s fake, but it’s lovely, just like the Photoshopped Victoria Secret model’s poster. I almost forgot about the job fair.

Unfortunately, the job fair is far more real than the manicured streets of the mall. It’s been a couple years since I read Baudrillard, but the word hyperreality kept flitting through my mind as I wandered around the mall.Calvin Klein, Michael Kors, Chanel, Gucci, Coach, Prada.  Simulacra. A simulacrum is, if I’m remembering my postmodernism correctly, a sign without a referent. It harkens back to an original that never existed. The rosy glow of an American small town that never was is being invoked in the mall’s nostalgic streets. Hyperreality is a reality that is so mediated by technology–radio, television, the Internet–that people can no longer distinguish between what is real and what is mediated to them. A walk through mall is a tightly controlled, mediated experience. The street signs point to shops. Hints at anything to disrupt the illusion are hidden. (I spied a mess of gas pipes hidden behind a black screen painted to look like a garden wall.)

The dream of the mall, is ultimately a lie, I know. The endless luxury, endless leisure, and endless wealth–none of them exist. Its promise is ultimately unrealistic. The merchandise at the mall can only be sold because workers in developing nations are underpaid and overworked, not to mention the underpaid cashiers and sales clerks who work in the mall shops. The location of the mall, accessible only from interstate highways, is also unfeasible. As we approach peak oil and the price of gas rises, driving to such locations, not to mention sending merchandise there by truck, will become increasingly costly. This is not to mention the carbon emissions of these vehicles that increase greenhouse gases in the atmosphere, driving up the temperature of earth’s atmosphere and radically altering the planet’s weather patterns, destroying coastal towns with hurricanes and floods. The visions of endless Things to Buy encourage conspicuous consumption, buying certain products only because they make one seem richer or more sophisticated and not because these products are inherently useful. It also encourages planned obsolescence, creating products only meant to last a few years, only to be thrown away and replaced by new products. The “free market” isn’t free, and the cost will be paid in an unhealthy environment and shrinking middle class by the poorest and those least able to pay those prices.

Logically, I know all of this. I’m critical of the inequalities that capitalism perpetuates. I shun designer brands. I try to use and reuse and recycle. I take public transportation whenever I can. A part of me feels as though I should be disturbed by the mall. It broadcasts cultural messages that I’ve chosen to deconstruct and expose. It upholds outdated ideologies that, I believe, are crushing common people under their teetering weight. But I’m not immune to the messages. I’ve grown up with the ideologies. I’m just as taken in by the simulacra as the next person. Sometimes, I’d like to ignore reality and exist in a space of hyperreality, in which money is endless, resources are endless, and the past was always perfect. So I find the streets of the mall peaceful and calming. I enjoy walking up and down them, staring into the windows, imagining what I would do with new furniture or a stationary set, and for a couple hours, ignoring reality and living in a dream.

Some Thoughts on Job Searching

So, on a personal note, I’ve been job searching this summer. I had a temporary retail position, but I’ve had to quit that since my lease is up soon and unless something pans out, it looks like I’m going to be moving in with my parents at the end of the month. I’m really not happy about that. Don’t get me wrong, my parents are great people, and through their influence I became the inquisitive, thoughtful critical thinker that I am today (even if it didn’t quite turn out the way they expected). I had just hoped that once I graduated and finished school, I’d be able to live on my own, pay for my own things, and generally be independent.

One of the many problems with job searching is that it requires a lot of introspection. I write an individual cover letter for every job I apply for, which means that for each job, I spend a lot of time thinking about what makes me qualified, what experiences I’ve had that I can bring to the job, and why my background makes me a good fit for this organization or that company. I find myself second-guessing my past a lot. Should I have bothered with a Master’s degree? With only a couple exceptions, the jobs that I’m looking at and am qualified for don’t require one. The Master’s seemed like a good idea at the time…(This was when I really thought I wanted to teach English at the college level and stay in school forever. Graduate school quickly cured me of that.) I also second-guess my internships. Yes, they lead me to realizing that I want to go into non-profit communications and, yes, they are better than no job experience on my resume at all. But they were both with very niche organizations that espouse ideological values that, to some, could be controversial. Okay, I interned with feminist and atheist—erherm, “secular humanist”—organizations. In many ways, I don’t regret these internships because I loved working for them, met some amazing people, and had some wonderful (and practical) experiences. But I do wonder if I should’ve done something safe (and maybe paid?) and less controversial. It was a little awkward when I realized I was applying for a communications position at a Catholic university and nearly all of my writing samples are pro-LGBT rights or pro-abortion. (I didn’t get that job. No surprises there.) I’ve always prided myself as someone who stays true to her values, holds out for the best that she can get, and doesn’t take the easy road. But it was a lot easier to be that sort of person when I was in school, which I’m realizing is a very controlled environment that has little bearing on life in the real world, and when I didn’t have health problems to worry about.

This introspection has also made me realize that as I applied for and worked in these internship positions, and pretty much every job I’ve ever had, I kind of fell into them without really understanding what I was getting into. When I applied to intern with a feminist non-profit in Washington, D.C., I didn’t think, “This is an experience that will build a foundation for my future career goals!” I thought, “Everyone else is doing summer internships. I should do a summer internship. Ooo! Feminism and writing! I like those! I’ll apply for that!” The internship with the secular humanist organization was a bit more calculated. It was a a resume builder and fall-back in the event that I didn’t get a paid summer job. But I still didn’t really see it as something that would affect my future. I think I had this attitude because, at the time, I saw myself as a student. In the end, I figured, the internships would be over in August and I would go back to school. School was what I focused on most. Now I’m realizing that, in terms of jobs experience, the portfolio that I built with these organizations matters much, much more than my degrees.

Ultimately, because of that portfolio, I really don’t regret my internships. I also don’t regret them because they were experiences in which I grew not only intellectually but also personally and emotionally. Sure, I wasn’t getting paid, but the intrinsic value that comes from working on projects that I felt excited about, from not just feeling but knowing that I was making the world a better place, and from meeting people that shared my interests and passion more than made up for the dent in my back account. (And, yes, I realize that I was privileged to be able to spend my summers working for free. I’m not denying that I got where I am today at least in part because of that privilege. And one of the reasons why I want to work with non-profits is so that I can extend that privilege to the many, many people who deserve but don’t have access to opportunities that people like me have.) At the time, even though I didn’t fully understand how those internships would play out, I’m ultimately glad that I did them.

And now I have two upcoming interviews, and in my over-thinking fashion, I’m wondering how they’re going to pan out and what that will mean for my future, because at this point, I don’t have school waiting for me at the end of the summer. Both of the interviews are with non-profits whose missions I care about. One is in a city about six hours away from where I currently live, doesn’t pay well even for non-profits, but does offer full benefits. Though I’ve spent the past year whining about how much I can’t stand my current location, as I’m starting to think seriously about moving, I’m kind of bulking at the prospect. I wouldn’t know anyone and I’m not sure what I’d do if my carpal tunnel flares up before my health benefits kick in. On the other hand, this is the best job I’ve had a shot at so far. The second interview is for a paid, part-time internship position. Even if I got a second job, I’d still probably have to live with my parents, a prospect I’m not thrilled with. However, it would only be until the end of the year, by which point, I’d hopefully have had a chance to network with other non-profits and maybe, maybe land a full time job. Also, hopefully, by then I’d have this damned carpal tunnel sorted out and in the meantime, I’d still be close to my doctor and physical therapist. I’m realizing that, however this situation plays out, I’m probably going to just fall into something again without fully realizing the consequences until it’s too late to back out.

I’m trying to convince myself that it’s okay not to know what the future holds. All I can ask of myself is that I make the best decision I can with the information that I have right now. (And to calm down, because I haven’t even been offered either of these positions yet! I’m just being interviewed!) I’ve fallen into things in the past—undergrad, jobs, internships, grad school—and overall I’m happy with the way they turned out and how I dealt with them. The same thing will happen in my current job situation. I don’t believe that everything happens for a reason or that there is some cosmic greater plan. I do, however, believe that we ourselves give a reason and a meaning to everything that happens. I’ve managed to give meaning to many of my past experiences, like my internships. However, I have other past experiences, like going to graduate school, that I regret. (Maybe in a few years, when I have more perspective on it, I won’t regret it. Who knows?) Right now, I’m hoping that however my job search turns out, I end up with more meaning than regrets.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that life is unpredictable, and while I know that, sometimes it’s hard to come to terms with, especially when I’m used to being in school, where everything has a nice, easy rubric to follow and results are guaranteed. On a more theory-related note, I watched my first Quentin Tarantino film this weekend and I have some thoughts on it. I’ve also read a serious, academic book related to current political and social issues. So, stay tuned for more serious posts coming later this week!