Transitions

For the past 9 years I have been going to school and working full-time. After the first year of working and going to school I got into a rhythm, sometimes with much effort, where my life was dictated, not by my choices, but rather by the due dates of papers, exams, work responsibilities along with mom responsibilities. Sometimes I felt I had no 'me' time; no time to do those things I wanted to do like write more, read more 'fun' books (not textbooks), take an art class, really get into a television series, spend more time with family and friends.

During the last year of graduate school my thoughts often strayed to the transition from full-time work and school to just full-time work. What would I do with the 'extra' time? What were my weekends going to be like since I wouldn't be speed reading hundreds of pages, writing a 2o-page paper or interning at an academic library? My mind traveled through an encyclopedia of choices, which at times felt very foreign to me. All of a sudden, in August of this year, I would be done with graduate school. Done with school. Forever. I think. Really? Instead of feeling elated and relieved, feelings of sadness and grief and even a bit of anxiety started creeping into my psyche.

Some people are ecstatic when they finish their academic career - be it high school, trade school or college. Me...I love school. I love to learn, to be educated, and all things connected - yes, that even means researching and writing papers, reading textbooks that at times make you want to take a long nap, and preparing for exams that cause you to lose sleep wondering if you passed. I've always liked school. So am I REALLY done with school? Perhaps in the 'formal' sense, yes. I've had to finance every credit, book, and pencil of my college education and unfortunately simply cannot afford to pursue a PhD. Maybe one day I can start again, but I'm on a break and it may be a permanent break from college.

While contemplating what I would do after graduating this summer, my thoughts went to creative pursuits. I've always wanted to write more. After taking a couple of writing workshops on memoir I desire to take a deep dive into this writing genre but feel I wasn't ready in the fall after completing a heavy year of coursework writing. Woodworking? No - I have a fear of power tools. Beer making? Interesting, but I'm not a big beer drinker. Salsa Dancing? Though I admit I need to exercise, stumbling over my feet and flying on the floor doesn't sound very fun - especially in front of a group of people. Painting? Mmmmm. My aunt S. is an oil painter and does beautiful work. Maybe genetically some talent would pass down to me. I registered at the Hopkins Community Center for 'Acrylic Painting' in September. Cost: $80. Experience needed: None. Supplies: small list; low cost. Done.

Little did I know that a 2-1/2 hour weekly class (with a net cost of $10/week) is worth 4 sessions with a therapist (at $120/hr). Not only have I learned painting and color techniques (who knew you could make a myriad of colors with only 4 tubes of paint?), but I've also learned to let myself go artistically, let myself make mistakes, let my feelings and emotions flow on canvas, let myself relax. With one week left, I am already missing my Monday evening painting class. Lucky for me, registration for winter quarter starts soon.

This week I finished my first painting - an impressionistic landscape titled "Prairie Horizon". My painting instructor wants me to put the painting in the Potpourri show starting in December. I think I will. I started my second painting and am already thinking of future ideas. I have learned much during the 8-week class and tonight purchased a couple of books on painting techniques and tricks. I can't wait to read them.

I may be done with college; but I am never done learning.