Here Goes Nothing (Part 2)
Friday, March 07, 2008
Aaaand we’re back.
Having graduated from Makiling as a Creative Writing major, the following sentiments may apply more to my fellow major-mates, though I’m sure those from the other fields have similar nits to pick.
So what happens next? You’ve graduated. You are told to continue with your field (or any art-related field, like my own Communication degree in Ateneo) upon entering college. And then suddenly, the second you step off that incline, it hits you that pursuing what you love is far more difficult than you had ever imagined.
Yes, this is how it has always been for anyone who wants to follow their passion. It is all up to you and nobody else. You have to get off your ass, find the right avenues, assert yourself not only by having concrete output, but by getting this output published and read, and all on your lonesome. You have to have gumption, a shitload of self-confidence, and a sense of independence. If you love what you do, you have to actually go out there and continue to do it, no matter how many times you get dissuaded or rejected. It will take great effort, maybe even great pain, but it is beyond worth it. Common. Fucking. Sense. There are enough Disney movies and creepy self-help books about this.
The thing is, Makiling can warp your judgment. On the obvious end, there is that culture shock in retrograde. Life after Makiling, especially the first year or two, can seem horrendously dull and constricting in comparison. God knows how many times I’ve spaced out in class wondering what the hell had happened to me. After four years of Crazy in high school, college—which to others might seem so fantastically fresh and freeing—appears bland. Makiling is a purposefully strange and over-overromanticized alternate dimension, where tourists in buses come to gawk at you like you were some three-headed woodland creature, where long exams in Math require dancing or filmmaking or acting instead of sitting in front of a piece of paper, where your dorm-mate plays a mean violin solo while you’re busy by the washing machine, and where you’ve seen more guy classmates in bahag walking around casually than most people would their whole lives (hahaha, sorry, I just had to add that). Thus, in college, you can end up feeling very lost. But this reverse culture shock is actually just a teensy backlash.
There are more harrowing issues here. First of all, you’ve gotten so used to having opportunities handed to you all the time. That’s where post-Makiling life really gets tricky. When before contests, trips, festivals, and many other great opportunities were things you were practically required to experience, this proverbial spoon-feeding vanishes after grad. And while it is certainly your responsibility to try for these things from that point forward, the sense of urgency needed for this has yet to truly develop in you. You can’t help but feel intimidated all of a sudden. All this freedom to assert yourself purely on your own terms can be very, very daunting. Like you’ve been derailed, and all that baggage you’ve accumulated from high school has made it a bitch to get back on track.
Secondly, there is something I will now call the Where Are They Now? syndrome. Makiling expects you to be very active in your field after grad. Having had such a unique time growing up, you can’t help but feel immense, and at times soul-crushing, pressure because of this. True, you didn’t spend four precious years of adolescence concentrating on your craft only to get lazy after. If you love what you do, then that shouldn’t be a problem. Nonetheless, a paranoia can surface. You start to stress over what you have or haven’t accomplished, start to wonder if who you’re becoming is someone your snot-nosed art school teen self would’ve been proud of. This is ridiculously unhealthy. You shouldn’t judge yourself in that way; it is the wrong way to take yourself seriously. Being good in what you do not only takes maturity and experience (especially with creative writers), but takes a self-respect that should’ve been there from the start, that isn’t something you have yet to earn. But while you shouldn’t be beating yourself up over so many little things, you can’t help but do so due to your stint on the mountain. Makiling can loom over you that way. Menacingly so.
And this, whoever was bored enough to read this humongous load o’tripe, is why I have qualms about my alma mater. Bow.
There is certainly much, much more to be said about this. I think this entry has taken enough out of me, though, and the topics that can branch off from my argument deserve their own grueling discussion. But finally, to end what is the longest entry I’ve ever done in my seven years of blogging, I will say this:
I know I’m doing the best that I can. I have loved to write for as long as I can remember, and this has kept me from letting my high school anxiety swallow me whole. It is workshop season now, for instance, and I have been happily busying myself because of it. Makiling has taught me to work hard. But not working to the point of getting mad at myself, that I had to learn on my lonesome. And I will stop typing now because, gademmet woman, this is too much schmaltz than even I can take.
posted by marguerite @ 10:07 PM
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