Since my last post I have successfully stopped Paxil (no negative withdrawal stuff whatsoever), completed one more MBA class and kept my 4.0 (by a hair's breadth, again), cut my hair super short, and discovered that I am right smack dab in the middle of an apparent mid-life (one-third-life?) crisis.
See, I decided way back in 2007 that I should return to college to further my education, get a nice bachelor degree, and basically increase my chances of some day landing a nice prosh job that I like and that pays me much better than my current paycheck. And it was a damn good idea, too ... at the time.
At the time, all the jobs I was interested in wanted either a bachelor's degree in whatever, or x years experience. Lacking experience, I went for the degree. After slowing down my schedule and several breaks (avoiding burnout, moving, medical scares), I graduated summa cum laude in 2010 with a 3.96 GPA. And it meant diddly squat, because now all those same jobs I'd been interested in before want both the bachelors and the experience. I was still lacking, and no matter what job I applied for — be it some lofty title or glorified secretary — I never even got an interview, just the automated, "Don't call us, we'll call you," and no call.
So I thought a master's degree might make up for the lack of experience (not that many people have a master's degree, it turns out, so it's impressive), and went back to school again. I'm now exactly half way through my MBA, and I really, really, really don't want to continue any further.
This is not due to a lack of ambition. It's due to a lack of prior research on my part concerning MBA graduates' general responsibilities and expectations in the workplace. See, I thought an MBA (in marketing) would simply mean I'd end up smarter about marketing than someone with only a BBA. I didn't know it would be grooming me for, and that potential employers would be hiring for, management positions.
You might ask, "Well, you're going for your master's degree in business administration, dear; what did you expect?"
And you'd be right to ask it. Looking back, all I can fathom is that I figured since the BBA wouldn't be getting me into a management position right away (especially with no experience) bumping it up to a master's wouldn't, either; it would just give me more knowledge. And it has. This degree work, and my professors, have given me the knowledge that although I'll still need some training first, I will be expected to manage others as an MBA grad. Not hoped for. Not encouraged. Expected.
I. Do. Not. Want. To. Manage. Others.
Why? Because I hate people. Because people, in general, are stupid — and no, paychecks and/or threat of losing jobs do not make people attempt to be smarter and/or more responsible. Mostly. So says my experience both in the working world and with group projects in school. I'm a great group leader, apparently, but as tired as the saying is, it's true: You can lead the horse to water, but even in attempting to drown the damned thing, you cannot make it drink.
I do not want to be responsible for, running after, tracking down, encouraging, cajoling, begging, threatening, holding-the-hands-of, and ultimately doing the work for, stupid, irresponsible people who most likely won't pay for their fuck ups in any way that actually means anything to them.
I am not a people person. To be a good leader (not just a manager), you have to be a people person, or at least be damned good at faking it. I'm as good at faking liking stupid people as I am at building rockets. I have almost endless patience with people who don't understand something but are genuinely trying, but those who really don't give a shit make me want to grind their faces off on the nearest patch of rough asphalt ... not talk with them about motivation and encourage them to try harder next time because we're all depending on them.
So, I'm halfway through something that is setting me up for the last thing in the world I want to do, and what keeps haunting me is all the could-have-beens.
I'm only 31, but if I'd stuck with my high school interest in astronomy (in any science, really), I'd be a scientist now. Right now. As I write this, as you read this, I'd be looking forward to my next day of fun, science-y, nerdy awesomeness. I'd be an astronaut, or astrophysicist, or marine biologist, or forestry biologist, or mad scientist in the typical blowing-up-chemistry-labs-while-reanimating-twitching-flesh manner.
I'd be doing something that matters.
Or, if I'd just had the guts to continue my pursuit of making my artwork work for me, I could have been the one designing the dragons of Skyrim. Or the orcs, or the elves, or the different guild styles, or the weapons, or the landscapes, or ... Or, I could be working in movie magic. I could have been the one doing the artistic details and backgrounds in the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit movies. I could have worked on the aliens in Prometheus. Or the frost giants in Thor. Or, or, or.
About a year ago, I typed up the obituary for a man not much older than myself who had worked for Blizzard. He was an artist, like me. One year at Comic Con, he walked up to the Blizzard booth, opened his portfolio, and was hired on the spot. He designed many things for the, but his weapons were his legacy.
That could have been me. How many years of Comic Con have I not walked up to a booth and shown my portfolio in the wild hope that just exactly that would happen, to me? How many years of "Oh, yeah, like that would ever happen,"? How many years could I have been doing something I love? How many years have I lost?
And the thought that keeps coming back to me, sneering, laughing, digging in dagger-deep, is, "Why the hell did I go back to school for business degrees?!? Why didn't I follow my dreams? It worked for that guy. It worked for everyone currently designing video games and movie magic."
And then there's the quieter, unsure, terrifying and exciting though that follows it: "Well. It's not too late, you know. You are only 31."
That thought, combined with my best friend's encouragement (she was an admissions rep at a state university for years) has me doing some serious soul-searching ... and art school researching. Mad as it may be, financially crazy as it might be, I'm becoming more and more serious about dropping out of the MBA pursuit and starting over completely with an art degree in computer animation.
My friend has me sold on the idea of finding an art school with great financial aid and somehow getting enough scholarships and grants to not only pay for school, but pay for me to do only school, and not worry about working, too. That's a lot of money. And it's a really big if.
But, if I could make that happen ... Five years from now, maybe less, I could be living a completely different life, enjoying my work, happy. In debt up to my ears, but in debt and happy.
That happiness thing, it makes all the difference. At this rate, with the BBA and MBA, I'm already looking at lots of debt for a long time. And the MBA may land me a job that would make that debt considerably easier. But I wouldn't be happy. I wouldn't be enjoying life. I'd be stressed out, angry, irritable, joyless, depressed, dead inside. What the fuck is the point of that?
So, I'm withdrawing, again, and I'm going to give artwork another chance. If I'm lucky, if I can find a school and the right financial aid, I won't be returning to finish the MBA. And, despite my heart-wracking attempts to do well so far and the resulting 4.0, I think I can walk away without a hitch. I've still got the BBA, summa cum laude, as backup if the art dream fails.
I think it's time to find a way to make it succeed.
Six-Year-Old-Me agrees, and is dragging out the finger paints.
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