An exercise in empathy

Hello World, 

This week I've been thinking a lot about the readings and life in general. I think I'm at a crossroads right now? Where do I begin? 


I turned 27 on March 4th. Days leading up to my birthday, my brother-in-law, Derek, passed away from cancer. My oldest sister, who is almost 40, had her world turned upside down. She met Derek when she was 20 years old and essentially devoted much of her life to being happy with him and working odd jobs here and there. When he was diagnosed with cancer 10 years ago, she spent her time and money on making life easier for Derek while neglecting her own health issues. She is left with debt, years of neglected doctors visits, and is fight the pettiest battle with Derek's family on what he's left behind, all while having to move out of the house they shared together--a house that will go to his mother. She recently started a position as a tech. for a dialysis clinic in San Antonio--which is great on her, but she's moving back in with my parents and is hoping to hit a slight restart button on her life. 

This experience, and the unfolding daily drama, has had me thinking about my own values and life goals. As I approach almost six figures in student loan debt, I ask myself, is it worth it? I am the first generation in my family to go to college, and yes, that is a big deal, but if I will remain indebted to a oppressive system for the rest of my life, what value does that hold? 

When I first began my venture at TC in the fall of 2015, bright eyed and bushy tailed--I had aspirations to eventually become a professor. After hard times in New York city, and a lot of harassment and exploitation, I have reconsidered this goal. While I believe in student-centered education, and consider the arts a profound and illuminating process in learning, meaning-making, and transformation--is that enough to keep me going? I do not want to live hand to mouth. 

Recently I came across a part-time position at the Joan Mitchell Foundation as a Residency Programs Assistant. 15 hours a week or so, $20 an hour. It felt like I had a good shot. I was an early applicant. I have awards, job experience, honors, qualifications, but I didn't even get an interview. I even reached out to the director to follow up and was disappointed to hear that the search for the position was rather far along. 

I've been feeling so lost, alone, inferior, and hopeless here. Seeing my entire family struggle so severely for so many years has been painful and I do not want to perpetuate the pain the permeates my family. 

As part of my position here as studio Fellow at TC, I TA classes and host open studio hours where I can assist and guide students through their artistic endeavors. Friday, was a long day, no one showed up until the end--so I decided to paint for a while, feeling uninspired as I pushed paint around. I decided to try and attempt to paint figuratively for the first time in many years. Students often ask how to paint clouds, so I gave it a shot. It was difficult, but I pulled through after an hour and was proud of myself. 

Last semester for a class I had the opportunity to interview the director of MFA programs at City College of New York. One advice that he gave and mentioned that it was important for instructors to complete every assignment they give out. If you can't do it yourself, what is the point in assigning it? This personal exercise ended the week on a lighter note, I suppose. 

But still. 

I have to submit a draft of my dissertation proposal by Wednesday. And I just don't know what to do anymore. You can be extremely passionate about something, but if it does not support your independence what do you do?