I have calmed down from the final push of school. By the end of June, I had completed my
internship and then rushed off to see Annie and the rest of my small family in
Minneapolis.
Now I have spent two months at my remote home in Point Reyes
Station. Because it’s off the
information grid, casual phone calls, texts, or emails are infrequent, and my
loneliness is a constant. Yet, I have
had a lot of time to recover from school and to let thoughts for the “next
stage” of my life bubble to the surface.
But the truth is, even after two months, I am lost, and
maybe getting “loster”. I’ve been
thinking a lot about age and how our age – both our own perception of age and
that of others – influences us, for better or worse.
I am now 66. I have
spent the past six years of my life as a student: three at College of Marin and
three more at California College of the Arts.
Was it worth it? Sure, I think
so. I’ve learned a ton, stimulated my
intellect and imagination, and made some new friends.
But to what avail?
How will this help me moving forward?
Do I have the energy, drive, and focus to really start a new career as
an architect? And even if I do, could I
expect someone to hire someone of my age? This age issue is real. Forty-five years ago, I was 1 of 10 women in
a sea of 10,000 engineering undergraduates.
Yet I have never felt more “otherness” and incipient futility than I do
now.
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