Thirty-Eighth Post
My dear friend Marie mentioned something interesting in the comments of my thirty-sixth-and-a-half post, in reference to an informal poll I’d created: I can see the scientist growing in you! It probably comes as no surprise to anyone who’s been reading my blog that I am quite the nostalgic…so although it appeared at face value as simply a very nice compliment, Marie’s statement actually also brought to mind a very specific childhood desire. I’ve been trying to refrain from overarching statements of circumspection, but…oh well. Here goes:
Little Chris very much wanted to become a scientist — not that he knew exactly what that meant. Coupled under lamination with this photo from the fourth grade is the following text that he wrote (with great effort to keep within the lines) describing himself:
This was a kind of secret: Little Chris into Little Christian into Christian really just kept it to himself. When high school came around, and he grew to accept the story of Math & Science as an overwhelming and frustrating bore, he turned to art, towards which he was naturally inclined, quietly snuffing out his feelings for that other, more difficult path.
But this was not done without guilt, even though no one else had known or cared about Christian’s change in decision. He would always remember the vow he’d made as a kid: I will make life easier. How would he do that as an artist? He might make life more pleasant for others, but the only person’s life he was aiming to make easier was his own. To him, the words he had scribed all those years ago still stood as a contract — and a promise — unfulfilled.
So art school happened. Or it didn’t, really…three years after high school, Christian was done with the art world. He’d hoped for a different academic paradigm, but didn’t find it. He’d hoped for like-minds, but had been too closed-off to allow it. He wanted to live a real adult life, with a job and a girlfriend and his own apartment, and the time that art school demanded gave him no reward that was worth sacrificing those things. And that was that.
Christian got that job that he wanted, and spent time with that girlfriend he had, and moved into that apartment that represented his independence. Then he just sort of…floated. He’d allowed himself to release two dreams — both his initial one and his backup — and as such, an aimless quality had developed within him.
But on the advice of his brilliant mother, Christian decided that he’d at least set himself towards finishing his degree. He finagled his way into a job at Harvard University, and resumed classes at its Extension School as soon as his union would allow. Aside from the commandment, thou shalt get thine degree, he had no idea what he was doing…until one of many pleasant conversations with his lovely friend, Laura, who offhandedly mentioned, as a result of their interactions, that he should become a therapist.
And that, for so many reasons, made prefect sense to Christian. He’d always done well with one-on-one interactions. He had plenty of experience dealing with the less-than-sane. He liked helping people find solutions to their problems. It seemed so clear that he’d wondered how he’d the notion had previously eluded him.
This of course meant that he was in for significantly more schooling than previously planned, however. But the purpose and drive of a real plan — something that surely hadn’t existed when he wanted to be a professional artist — gave Christian motivation that he didn’t know was in him. It was ridiculously simple in comparison to his previous efforts: get an ALB; get a PhD; get licensed; get to work.
None of this was what Little Chris had envisioned, naturally — how could he have? But Psychology is a science, however soft; psychologists do invent things, however ethereal; and therapists make life easier for those that they treat. Christian couldn’t help but think that life was pretty amusing.
I am so glad you started this blog and have been using it. Though you coat this with humour, which of course is well placed, this was quite an exercise in opening up and that is appreciated and i am glad you are doing it. Also this is a wonderful way to organize your thoughts and/on your life. It’s very interesting learning about different paradigms of your character, the comparisons and contrasts of knowing you as your friend, reading your work/thoughts, and the time-space eye of living with you.
The photo! The writing! Awe! More of that please.
Isn’t it interesting how every step of life is so different yet it comes together while still maintaining that multifacetedness?
A few other things:
- just because you left art school doesn’t mean you left the whole art world. you are still an artist. heck, even i’m an artist, and i suck. it’s in you, not in your training.
- hey man, therapy does not discriminate: less sane, very sane, it’s for everyone.
- nice mastering of the five paragraph essay with that brilliantly organization with the stunner of a concluding ΒΆ!
And kudos to the motivation!
Aw…thanks, honey! I really appreciate your thoughtful response. Also, I do agree with you on the artist part, for sure…I thought about putting that into the story, but I think it would’ve broken down the simplicity of the narrative, so I left it out. And good point on therapy, of course! Certainly dealing with the worst can help one be better able at dealing the best, though. :)
Oh this ancient document is adorable! I love that you wanted to “make life easier” for others. That’s just brilliant. I probably had much more selfish ambitions when I was eight! I am going to be looking for a similar document when I go home this summer; it’s probably going to say My name is Marie and I want to win an oscar when I grow old (or make pastries).
Also, I’ve thought about this for a long time now, and I think there are many similarities between therapy and art. They both require a lot of creativity; they both make you see the world in new ways… Let me throw out a cliche here: therapy is art, and art is therapy. So I totally agree with Raya that you remain an artist both in the traditional and philosophical meaning of the word.
Alright, back to my scientific activities: crunching numbers, looking at brains, crunching more numbers, sending emails… and looking up your blog of course (…).
Haha–don’t worry, Marie…you can still take the Al Gore route to the Academy Awards–just make a kickass documentary about the human condition in a decade or two! I am now very interested to see what you’re able to turn up in search through your old documents. It really is awesome to find that stuff, and figure out what kind of person you were at the various stages in your life–especially the ones during which cognition was really just sorta…so-so. I was probably JUST getting out of the pre-operational stage at the time I wrote that note…
And I agree with you on art and therapy! I’ve semi-secretly maintained that they are very similar, if only in that they both take an understanding of the human condition that is at least a bit below the surface in order to be successful. But psychology does seem to intersect with so many disciplines, doesn’t it!
Also, seriously…you gotta get back to blogging!
Clearly the answer here is Art Therapy!
also, it would have been awesome to have been friends when we were eight (if we were eight at the same time). We could of crafted the capes we were going to save the world with together.
So I feel like I start every response on your blog wth an excuse about why I’m brain dead and how it will affect the quality of my post. And… this one is no exception. BUT I did finish my finals three hours and forty minutes ago (!!!) so my excuses are over and you’ll have to write more aweome entries so I can respond wth the thoughtfulness they deserve.
Anyhoo, the reasons I’m responding at all is to say that all your beautiful reflection on formulation of, and journey toward, life goals, and the graduation dust in the air has made me…. REALLY EXCITED THAT WE’RE GOING TO GRADUATE TOGETHER NEXT YEAR!! It’s gonna be great and we will have to throw the scholarly bash of a lifetime! Woo!
Hehehehe…AND we’ll be graduating with Richard. Spring ’09 is gonna be awwwwwwesome!!
Yup… talking about yourself in 3rd person makes everything clearer….
i love that “When I Grow Up.” is its own separate sentence.
Aw this post just makes me want to go hug all my 4th graders and tell them to stay good.