Facing the Existential Crisis Posed by Life After College

Lately, I have been coming to terms with a lot of feelings I didn’t know I had.

change

Coming into my senior year, I feel an odd mix of excitement–I have spent three years to get where I am–and sadness, a kind of preemptive grief. This is it;  I am going to graduate after this year. The thought of leaving my school, and this job, makes me feel a little lost. What if I’m not done with this experience? I’m afraid that I won’t be able to move on from this time in my life, but the school, campus living, my friends, will. Will I find other things to do that are this meaningful? Will I have the willpower or the ability to spend my life on noble things?

Most of the time, I doubt the value of the things I’m doing. Let’s face it, I am a privileged white kid, getting an education that will give me possibilities other people will never have, and to what end?  While I love many of my classes, I’m not sure if being educated is meaningful in its own right. I have all this debt that will force me to revolve my life around the acquisition of money–I can’t just decide to go travel, or live off of a very small salary. Is it worth it?

Worst of all, part of me does not feel it is meaningful to just to be me; a 20 year old who likes to have philosophical conversations and to partake of all things whimsical or weird. Part of me feels that this 20 year old persona is not really me;  “Tyler the RA” is me. Unlike almost everything I do, I absolutely feel that watching out for the well-being of 30 young adults is meaningful. I never regret time spent as an RA.“Tyler the RA” is the person I have decided I want to be; a public persona, the person who does everything with premeditation, who has trained herself how to react to every social situation so that she can be most helpful to those around her.  That person is valuable to the world.  In a real sense, I feel that I am losing myself when I lose this job.

I have been anticipating a great void entering my life after I graduate, and I have started to resent this job because of it. I have given so much of myself to this job–how could it let me go careening off into the emptiness? …Of course, this is all in my head. If I’m reasonable, I know that I need to keep growing and changing too, and the people around me are not simply throwing me away. They genuinely love me.

As Mary Oliver says, I have to be “determined to save the only life [I] can save.” I need to trust that I will find ways to live a meaningful life. Perhaps I’ll realize that it is meaningful to simply live and enjoy living. Or perhaps, I simply need to decide that when I graduate, I will find a way to serve the world in ways that are just as interesting, just as powerful, as the ways I am helping out now. I have to believe that any love lost out of my life will make space for it to re-enter my life in a new form. Most of all, I need to stop thinking of myself as expendable, and I’ll realize that no one else around me sees me that way.

No one ever said self care was easy. But, at times, it is the most important part of the job

We could all use some therapy play dough

People, I am an adult. In a few short months, I will be 21 and there will be nothing–short of running for office and AARP membership–barred from me based on my age. But here’s a secret.

Lean in close.

(I’M ACTUALLY SIX, AND I’M JUST STUCK IN AN OLDER PERSON BODY)

Whew, glad to get that off my chest. So, here’s what I did today:
Play Dough and dinosaurs 005

RAAAAAAAAAAAAWR! Oh, my, excuse me! I didn’t see you there. My name is Timmy. Play Dough and dinosaurs 007

Timmy the mutherfracking PINK DINOSAUR. Allow me to show you around my play dough world.

Play Dough and dinosaurs 003

This is my mother. Timmolina.

Play Dough and dinosaurs 001A rare fossil of the love monster, kept in our house for generationsPlay Dough and dinosaurs 016

I am KING OF THE MUTHER FRACKING DINOSAURS!

Ummm, ahem, excuse Timmy. What he meant to say is that play dough is easy to make. Combine:

  • 1 cup of flour
  • 1 cup of water
  • 2 teaspoons cream of tartar
  • 1/3 cup of salt
  • 1 tablespoon of oil
  • a few drops of food coloring
  • bonus points: aromatic oils to make it delicious smelling therapy play dough

Cook over medium high heat until it comes off the sides of the pan. Knead for a few minutes. Enjoy the magic of childhood. If you wrap it up when it’s not in use, or store it in a ziplock, it will keep for months and months, maybe a year or longer.

Believe it or not, Timmy is a therapy dinosaur. He and his play dough brethren can help you connect with your residents.

My sophomore year, I remember visiting one of the other AD’s with a couple of RA friends. This particular AD had a very small office, but she had a table with all sorts of little toys and trinkets on it. In the small white little room, the toys immediately drew my attention. I found myself playing with them in spite of myself, and I asked her why they were there. She told me that she likes to have little things for students to play around with while they’re talking to her. Usually people are coming to her to talk about emotionally charged things, or because something is not going well. The toys help to make a serious environment more relaxing, and gives people something to fidget with while they talk. It also makes the conversation feel less contrived–it makes it feel like you’re there to spend time with each other, and not “okay, I’m going to spill my guts because you’re the person I’m supposed to spill my guts to.”

A few months later, I found myself in her office, dealing with my own emotionally painful situation. I felt wretched, embarrassed to be breaking down in front of someone I respected, and I was trying hard to keep it together. I remember being extremely grateful for having those little toys to play around with in between talking. Those little toys reminded me that it is okay not to be professional and impressive all the time. I felt that I was in a place where I would be taken care of.

Because Timmy the dinosaur eats bad feelings for lunch.

Play Dough and dinosaurs 015

Too cool for fossil fuel

How to Make Awesome Posters and Why You Would Want to Do Such a Thing

Happy 4th of July! Let’s celebrate. If I may I direct you to gallery number 1:

I WANT YOU

America wants you to use *hot* waterDishes poster

Shamelessly ploying my residents to do dishes by using slogans with vaguely sexual undertones

SOAP-

Another very compelling argument

VIGOROUSLY

Inspirational!

He's watching youProbably the most terrifying of the bunch

These are my World War II propaganda kitchen posters. I like to think they are so charming, my residents won’t even mind the fact that they are being reminded of…gasp…THE RULES! I printed a couple of these babies out (I couldn’t quite bring myself to put the last one up), covered them with clear packing tape, and put them on the walls. The packing tape functioned like a laminated coat, protecting my beautiful works of art from the perils of water and kitchen grime monsters. Ah, the vintage charm, the sweet je-ne-sais-quoi, that they lent the room!

Putting up some sweet posters might not convince my residents to start taking care of the kitchen, but I do think that they will remind residents of conversations I’ve had with them about the importance of the kitchen, and how to take care of it. Failing an education reminder, perhaps these posters will scare them into doing their dishes. Either way.

I made these priceless masterpieces using google documents. It was simple. Instead of making a ‘document,’ I made a ‘drawing.’ All I had to do was find pictures on google, upload them, and play around a little bit–add text, insert shapes, make borders. You can see in the first photo that I covered up the text below “we want you” so I could reappropriate the message for my own selfish means. I might have had a little *too* much fun.

A huge bonus with google documents is that you can share these documents very easily. Therefore, if you make a great poster for the kitchen, or a quiet hours poster, or a poster advertising a hall event, you can easily share them with your staff members so that they can print them too as needed. You can even have a staff folder of shared posters and documents.

If I may direct you to gallery number 2:

Kitchen poster 1 Kitchen Poster 2 Kitchen poster 3 Kitchen poster 4 Kitchen poster 5

I stole these images from Mr. Ron Fehling. You can see the originals here. http://rf_photography.imagekind.com/store/Images.aspx/a917b3ce-2810-4f9b-bc73-86dfd295b965/Stilllifekitchenblackandwhitephotography

You might say I did these out of sheer sadism. I just enjoy the tortured groans and existential crises they leave in their wake. In all honesty, I made these because they reflect my personality (I make lots of terrible puns), and therefore add unique flavor to my hall. These posters are affectionate, dorky, and beautiful, and they made my kitchen feel less like a laboratory and more like a home where I live.

Finally, and here is where I will stop for the time being–gallery number 3:

Kitchen wear care

Another Kitchen poster

The first poster has photography by smitten kitchen, my favorite food blogger. As you can see, it is an attempt to enlighten my residents–some of whom may have never cooked before in their lives–some of the finer points of kitchen wear care. Again, it would be most useful if you also tell them this information face to face, so that this poster only serves to remind and cement in the information.

The last photo, I apologize sincerely for how rude this is, but I can’t find where it comes from. It is just so beautiful and so simple, and I thought it might light up the overly plain white kitchen with its quiet charm.

In conclusion, freedom. Liberty. Posters.

We talk a good game about self-care: but what does it really mean? And why is it so hard?


It has been 2 years since I became an RA. It has enriched my life, and sometimes, quite wonderfully, consumed it.  I have begun to own the role as part of who I am. I love this job.

But in spite of the fact that I feel confident I can handle any situation involving other people, I still struggle all the time with maintaining balance and self-care. When I say I struggle all the time with self-care, I mean it literally. I am struggling now, today, all the time, with this balance. 

selfcarebare

Self care bear, why is this so hard?

At some point fairly early on, I started to need my job. Instead of being a lonely college student depressed from a lack of purpose, I can be the RA, a person who is always looking out for others, a person who does incredible things, a person with confidence and purpose to spare. But as time went on, sometimes I forgot to be a person outside of my job. It became revolutionary to think of scenarios in which I do not have to be that person, the person who always feels responsible to look after others and facilitate community. It became revolutionary to think, “sometimes, I am just me, just a being existing and feeling, and it is not always my responsibility to make things right.”

I had this conversation with a good friend of mine.  My friend is an excellent listener. He had started to have all of these break-through conversations with people, conversations that had that satisfying ‘ahah!’ moment, where everything about that person–why they are the way they are–falls into place. You know you have hit this moment by the face of the person you’re listening to; you can see and feel their overwhelming relief. “If you reflect back to someone just so,” I think, “if you use just the right word, magic happens.” Suddenly, neither you nor the other person is trying to think of things to say, or trying to secure each other’s approval. Suddenly you are saying what you truly believe and feel, often quite to your own surprise. It is pure electricity.

After you have a conversation like that with someone, it’s hard to let go. You want to spend all your time thinking about their lives, the puzzle pieces they are struggling to put together, the pain that has shaped who they are. You want to do is to see into the secret lives of people, and once you see, to connect on a deeper and deeper level. It is a beautiful experience, but sometimes, somewhere in the passion of connection, we lose the patience to worry about our own lives, to do the little tasks pushing our own lives forward. The more entrenched we get in other peoples’ lives, the more we develop an inability to invest in our own. Slowly the world gets smaller and smaller.

I have a very rewarding identity as an RA, an identity which I am proud of. But increasingly, as I become a senior thinking about graduation and as I am getting back in touch with myself, I’m realizing I need certain times where I need to be MORE than just an RA. Maybe there are times when I need not to be an RA at all. This is obvious to some people, some people realize this need right away. For me, it is a need I am having for the first time.

Self care for me at this point means developing a new sense of self to strive towards. Not only do I want to be that community figure, I want to be a writer, a mentor and a student of mentors, a person who isn’t afraid to focus on her own life, a person who is invested in herself. I can be obsessed with being an RA, but I have to force myself to see the power and importance of my larger identity as well. Balance will only come naturally when I have regained that sense of perspective.

For now, my homework is to enjoy the sense of passion and purpose this job gives me, while always asking myself; what gives me passion and purpose outside of this job? Why ELSE am I living? Because ultimately, I am more than any one identity, no matter how important it is.

 

I have performed the miracle of turning wine bottles into water glasses

photo

This is a creation of–almost–biblical proportions.

In all sincerity, I can’t even tell you how excited I am about this project. I have been fantasizing about trying it for months.

These glasses are beautiful. They are sturdy, strong, well made, safe. They are everything I want them to be and more. They are quirky, charming, they have character, they are ecological. They are magic. And I hope, I just hope, that if someone walked into a warm, spice laden kitchen with a set of these beautiful glasses on display, they just might want that place to be their home.

Your ass is glass

Maybe I’m taking it too far. But maybe not. These glasses have good vibes.

It’s kind of stupid, please don’t laugh, but I spend time dreaming that these glasses will change my college campus. There is an inexhaustibly supply of wine bottles on a college campus, sitting quietly in the bottle of recycling boxes. The only supplies required are a wine bottle cutter ($20 to $30 on amazon), sandpaper or an emery cloth ($5).  I don’t know how many bottles you could cut with those, but I think the answer is a lot.

They don’t take much time–each step takes a minute or a few, depending on how slowly you go (though it requires a bit of practice). It’s educational, it is an empowering community builder, they could be souvenirs. With glass etching liquid and a stencil, you could either decorate these, or, as I plan to do, mark them with the name of my hall so that they announce their own place and cannot be mixed up or lost. Although, with such distinctive glasses, it is harder for them to get misplaced anyways. In my ideal world, every single kitchen would have glasses like these, made by residents. Each hall would have their own symbol–maybe an embellished letter, a short word–made into a stencil, which they would use to mark every glass. Eventually, people could make glasses just for fun, just for gifts, just for hall souvenirs.

I am getting away from myself. But isn’t that the point? Isn’t the whole point that sometimes, we are able to do incredible things with stupid little objects and a sense of transfixion? Isn’t that where a bit of magic enters the picture–when we care about things more than we should? And it’s dumb, and you might feel dumb when you go to your supervisor and the only thing you want to talk to them about is some project you read about on the internet, and your residents might not understand your enthusiasm at first, but something odd will linger and people will remember years later that there was something special about those odd green glasses.

It takes a little bit of practice to figure out how to cut a perfect straight line. Expect to experiment on a few. Out of the first 7 bottles, I had 2 successes (I think my success rate will be much higher now though). Apparently the glasses will break more evenly the shallower the cut you make (you only want to score it lightly once), but I found that my cutter sometimes didn’t leave a mark at all if I didn’t press pretty hard, and then the glass didn’t break evenly at all.

Here is an excellent video on the process. 

Practically goes without saying, but be careful around the bottle cutter and the bottles. I forgot to watch myself around a severed bottle and accidentally brushed my finger against a raw edge and cut my finger.

I hardly noticed the cut though. I was too busy performing miracles.