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Career

Adventures in Freelancing (Pants Optional)

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I never thought I’d miss desk chairs.

I was fortunate enough to be one of those people who started working immediately after college. A yearlong internship panned out—the television company with which I’d been interning took on a $45 million project during my last semester, and rather than train new coordinators, they just started paying me once I graduated. I started at $500 a week, which at the time felt like legit riches, and then got bumped up to $600 a few months later.

Although I was only supposed to contract for about 5 months, I ended up staying as an employee for more than a year, during which time my incredible boss/mentor rallied tirelessly to get me put on salary, but to no avail. I tried to move laterally in the company, toward one of the creative jobs that were more along the lines of my degree, but nepotism reared its fugly head and I was passed over for any new positions.

So, I found myself with no chances to move within the company and no full-time prospects elsewhere. I did cry, once—in the comfort of my own breakfast burrito—and no one noticed except the waiter, who (bless him) wordlessly handed me a mimosa. After a few sips, I pulled myself together, considered my skills and connections, and shifted my mindset to freelancing. Fortunately, thanks to the proactive work of my now-former boss, I spent almost no time searching for jobs. She put me in contact with a few company connections, all of whom I reached out to immediately and pushed to set meetings up with. During these meetings, if there were even an inkling of a suggestion of a task mentioned, I said yes. Always yes. I agreed to everything from working a private school charity function for a producer to managing the marketing for an upcoming indie film. I can’t stress enough how important it is to say yes. If the task is basic enough that they’re asking a relative stranger to do it, and it doesn’t involve a Hazmat suit, it’s probably something you can figure out how to do. I consider myself a lifetime double student at the universities of Google and Your Local Public Library.

So I got a backup laptop battery, switched out my unlimited MetroCard for a pay-per-ride and, before I could put on my comfy slippers, I was juggling five different freelance gigs. And I do mean different. I spent my days alternating between cutting Flavor of Love highlights (yes, the VH-1 masterpiece), to pulling stills and sound bites for a TV show’s digital board game, to frantically researching Photoshop layer-masking for a website’s design after having promised I had the adequate skills to do it.

The Money

Let’s talk about the fun part of freelancing: getting paid!!! Negotiating a pay rate is not as tricky or as terrifying as you’d expect. Before that process begins for you, ask someone in a similar field about the rates they charge, both when they started and now. When you go back to the employer, don’t be afraid to aim higher than you think you should. If you’ve gotten this far in setting up a freelance position, they’re unlikely to slam the (e-)door in your face. They’ll either say yes, or they’ll counter with a lower rate. From there, feel free to negotiate away; I found that agreeing on a rate within a couple of emails saved both of us from any potential resentment.

Here’s another thing about quoting a rate for your work. Come on—lean in for this one—I’m going to type in italics to invoke whispering: If they’re hiring you to do some extra work, eight times out of ten they don’t know how to do it themselves. They probably don’t even know what the typical rate is. Don’t take advantage of people, obviously, but don’t be afraid to upcharge based on your own experience (whatever that may be) and to make it worth your while. Like I said, I promise that an employer won’t turn down your services, then tell all his/her friends not to hire you, and then hack into your OKCupid account to declare you a huge, pompous, money-grubbing asshole if you quote a rate that’s too high.

What’s less fun than negotiating a rate is chasing after employers for money. It’s not necessarily that you didn’t do a great job, or that the employer is a bad person, or that the project is necessarily a total go-nowhere scam running out of the back of a souvenir shop. (I repeatedly stress not taking this stuff personally, because it’s very easy to let happen, especially if you’re working alone most of the time and away from the regular, conversational feedback of office life. A year of freelancing left me more sensitive to criticism than Joffrey Lannister-Baratheon.) It is simply not your clients’ top priority to give you their money, regardless of the job you did. So don’t be afraid to bring it up kindly in an email or make a phone call, regularly, to make sure it happens. No one is going to worry themselves as much about your payment as you are. Be your own #1 get-money-get-paid advocate.

The Routine

Throughout my time freelancing, it was hard to regulate some semblance of a routine. I would work late until I fell asleep with my computer in my lap, and then I would wake up the next morning, grab my computer from my bedside, and start working again. The sheer number of deadlines made self-motivation easy; the trickier task was turning my brain off from “work mode.” Imagine getting to your office at 8 am and leaving after midnight every day. Even if you’re only committed to eight hours, you’ll probably find yourself working ahead just because you’re in that environment. When I was working from home, there was no differentiator, especially when “home” was a teeny tenement apartment with no common spaces.

But there were numerous advantages! I could work in my pajamas (although to avoid the inevitable self-disgrace, I usually didn’t), I could do my laundry and grocery shopping in the middle of the day when there were no lines. I worked my gym schedule around the TV Guide for the channels I could watch on the treadmill. My conversational skills didn’t exactly flourish, but my work and home lives were the most efficient they’d ever been.

The Location

At one point, I decided to take the phrase “working remotely” to heart. With some extra cash from one particularly lucrative job, I moved to an apartment two blocks from the Mediterranean Sea for a few months while I continued to cut, edit, and write content for various clients. Wake up, work over breakfast, bring lunch and write on the beach before it got too hot, come home, work through dinner, go out with new roommates. And, of course, go on the occasional adventure. I realize that not every freelance job can be done from across the globe, but if the stars align accordingly for you, then get your ass out there.

Hanging Up The Slippers

Before I knew it, a year of freelancing had passed. By then, I was working part-time in the office of a client, a social media/entertainment startup, who now needed me on-hand for a few hours a week. I was also bartending a couple times a week, more for the social interaction than anything else. I felt both exhausted and also, strangely, unaccomplished; unless you’re looking at freelance gigs cumulatively, it’s easy to feel like you didn’t contribute greatly to any one project.

Not long after that, the part-time office job asked me to come onboard full-time. After weighing the decision, I decided to hang up my slippers and come back to office life. I would miss the freedom of scheduling my day, and I would miss indulging the weird idiosyncrasies I had developed from being alone most of the time for 15 months (like talking to myself excessively and eating certain foods with a knife only). Ultimately, the most alluring prospects were the regular, decent salary, a stake of equity in the company, the comfort of a desk chair (so much more ergonomic than the headboard of my bed), and the chance to interact all day with humans who weren’t appearing on a daytime talk show.

Am I glad I made the switch back to a one-job-only, 9-to-5 life? Yes. Do I miss the flexibility? Yes, every time I get a low-airfare alert for some exotic city, or try and elbow my way to the only rust-stain-free dryer at the laundromat at 7:30 in the evening. On the plus side, I have more regular in-person human interaction; I’m finally starting to get out of the habit of what I call ‘speaking in email,’ ending all spoken office conversations with “Best, Alyssa.” And I don’t have to chase anyone for a paycheck—it lands nicely into my checking account twice a month.

Is It For You?

I don’t know that I would recommend freelancing as a full-time job to everyone. I think it’s worth trying, especially if any of the above perks seem attractive to you. And oftentimes, they can lead to a steadier position, as in my case.

If you’re thinking about jumping on the freelance train, it’s worth having some money saved up, in case the jobs dry up or in case an employer is dragging their feet to give you your first paycheck. There’s always going to be some lingering awareness (and there should be, if you’re responsible about your bank account) that there will be periods of low income in addition to times where you’re flush with cash. Retail copywriting, for example, is heavily sought after from October to December, but unsurprisingly, work dries up after the holidays. So as tempting as it is after a well-paid gig to head to Serendipity 3 for a celebratory Frrozen Haute Chocolate, it might be worth saving some of that cheddar for a rainy day. If managing your money with some Scroogery isn’t something you think you’re capable of, then maybe freelancing isn’t for you.

Of course, starting to freelance isn’t always an all-or-nothing decision. You might be working one full-time position when someone asks you to take on a project. Then that may lead to other projects, some concurrently, until you have to consider whether it’s enough money and consistent work to quit your day job for. If so, and if you don’t LOVE your day job, then I say get out of there! Be free! Spread your self-sufficient wings! And when that day comes when you’re called back down to Earth for another permanent position, you have to make the decision for yourself: Just how much do you love eating oatmeal with a knife?

Photo by Meaghan Morrison

Photo by Meaghan Morrison

Career, Relationships

I Put a Ring on It in a City of Single Ladies

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I moved to Los Angeles about four years ago. In all that time, LA has proved to be a lot of things. Yes, there are a million blonde white girls who look exactly like me (and it seems like they snapped up all the agents already). Yes, there are images of fitness perfection everywhere and people really love the word “cleanse.” Yes, there’s no such thing as winter, to my great dismay. But most of all, people here care about their careers more than any other city I’ve lived in.

Granted, I haven’t lived very many places, and I have no reason to be surprised. Working in entertainment in LA takes a great deal of focus and drive. But I had no idea the level of scrutiny my own life choices would be subject to.

I had long ago decided that the LA lifestyle wasn’t something I would subscribe to completely. I moved down there with a grain of salt and an escape plan in mind. I wasn’t planning on scrabbling for infomercials or paying hundreds of dollars for “Agent-Meet Workshops”; really, my personal goals were to gain experience doing projects I was interested in and expanding my acting horizons. Because of this level of detachment, I hadn’t thought that the attitude of Los Angeles toward marriage would be any different than that of the rest of the country, where 20-something-year-old women are subject to the questions of their older counterparts: “Who are you dating? When will you settle down? When will you be married?” So, when I became engaged at 23 and set the wedding date for after I turned 25, I didn’t consider it unusual at all and was excited to wear a beautiful ring that would scream the happy news for me without me even having to open my mouth.

But man, the reactions I got! People acted as if I had decided to become a nun. Or join a cult. The ring on my finger became an instant magnet for attention, and not all of it was good.

Let me clarify: those who have known me for a while, and who know my fiancé, or are at least good enough friends with me that they feel as if they know him, didn’t have any comments to offer except “I’m so happy for you! It was only a matter of time!” Instead, it’s those who met me more recently, and who noticed the ring, who had less positive things to say. Things like, “Wait….you’re getting married? How old are you? Oh my god, you’re a baby! How do you even know what you want when you’re so young? What about your career? Do you want children right away? Wait…you don’t want to have children right away?!? Why get married so soon then? What about your career? Why are you settling down? What about your career? What’s the rush? For the love of GOD, what about your CAREER?!? THINK ABOUT YOUR CAREER, WOMAN!”

I was completely unprepared for this onslaught of questions. I got them from new coworkers, new acquaintances, and even had other comedians ask me these questions while I was working… a completely unsolicited barrage of opinions and judgment. I tried not to fall in the trap of explaining my life choices to a stranger, but the more I was exposed to it, the harder it got to not be defensive.

The fact was, I had never really thought about what a marriage would do to my career because I never felt the need to weigh “career vs. relationship.” I wasn’t planning on having children for at least five years. I wasn’t planning on being a stay-at-home wife. My fiancé is an encouraging and supportive partner. I had been in a relationship with this man for six years and was still able to pursue a career. Our relationship, and my love for him, has in no way been a detriment to that end. I’ll admit that if there was no one in my life, I would have been more engrossed in my job, but the situation I was in was what I had been looking for all along: a balance in my life, with love, passions, art, family, and career.

The thing that drove me over the edge was that other women were having the exact opposite problem that I was having. Women who were single, whether to concentrate on their jobs or simply because they hadn’t found the right person yet, were being examined and questioned for not doing the exact thing that I was about to do. Ladies just couldn’t win! I was also baffled that—given that there are so many different family structures and relationship choices in this modern age—there is anybody left to be surprised or seemingly personally offended by my somewhat conventional life choices.

Later, I discovered that one of my coworkers who questioned me so relentlessly was actually unsatisfied with her own relationship status. It made me realize that there’s usually more under the surface when people present their judgment, but I still don’t excuse those people. To me, if someone tells you about their relationship or family status, whether it’s “married with children,” “single mother/father,” “dating around (or sleeping around),” “gay,” “bi,” “straight,” or “polyamorous,” it is insufferably rude to respond with anything other than: “Oh, that’s cool.”

The plus side of all of this is that I have learned to gain some perspective on the whole concept of judgment. I realized that no matter what your choices, no matter how “normal” they might seem, someone somewhere is going to judge you for it. I’ve learned to not give a shit. I’ve resolved to become less judgmental myself. If someone goes on about something that someone else is doing and how “weird” it is, I just shrug my shoulders and say, “Well, if it works for them and it’s not hurting anybody…” Even if I’m uncomfortable with something, it doesn’t give me a pass to be a judgey little meanie about it.

Finally, this thought: Many people have many opinions and thoughts on marriage. I can’t speak to anyone else’s experience, but for me, marriage doesn’t mean a one-way ticket to Stepford wife-ness, nor is it the equivalent of a grave. It is not an excuse to stop growing and learning and exploring. The reason I cringe at the term “settling down” is because I never plan to, no matter what my relationship status. When my fiancé becomes my husband, we will both continue to be ever-changing and ever-expanding human beings. The beautiful part is that we choose to pursue that growth and learn those lessons with another person. My life and marriage will be, in the words of J.M. Barrie, “an awfully big adventure.”

Photo by Michelle White

Photo by Michelle White

Travel

Our Mixtapes: Soundtracks For a Sane Commute

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When I was in middle school and high school, I was the queen of mix CDs. I made mixes for my friends and family, for car rides, and just for myself. It was, and is, one of my favorite pastimes. Choosing my favorite songs to find what tracks went well together was fun and challenging. Now, after years of practice, I think I’ve gotten pretty good at it (or at least my mom thinks so).

I find the process of creating mixes cathartic and important because, in my humble opinion, music makes everything better. Workouts, walks, studying, traveling, or just lounging about, music can bring you up or bring you down depending on your mood and what kind of day you’ve had. Because of this, I have several go to playlists and songs that I use when I am commuting to and from work or other places to either get me going or calm me down after a rough day.

To honor this, and hopefully give you lovely readers some cool and maybe new music, I have put together some of my favorite songs for a sane commute.

Like a Boss

These songs I feel are for a day when work didn’t crush your soul but instead made you feel like you were actually contributing something to the world. Go figure. They are upbeat but slightly melancholy in their own individual way. (Hey, you had a great day, but you still have to get up tomorrow…)

1) “Don’t You Evah” – Spoon, Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga

2) “Sister” – The Black Keys, El Camino (Ohhhh, this is a fancy live version!)

3) “Lies” – CHVRCHES, The Bones of What You Believe

4) “Jackie, Dressed in Cobras” – The New Pornographers, Twin Cinema

5) “Forever” – HAIM, Days Are Gone

Adventure Awaits

These songs are for a great day that also happens to be a Friday or the start of a vacation. They have great beats, are pretty positive overall and are fantastic for singing along. Who cares if they see you mouthing lyrics? You get to sleep in tomorrow!

1) “Drove Me Wild” – Tegan and Sara, Heartthrob

2) “In Your Light” – Gotye, Making Mirrors

3) “All of the Lights” – Kayne West, My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy

4) “Santa Fe” – Beirut, The Rip Tide

5) “Forever Yours” – Alex Day, Forever Yours

6) “Fearless” – Taylor Swift, Fearless

Down for the Count

These next few songs are for the defeated. That might sound a bit melodramatic, but sometimes that’s the only way I feel after a long and arduous and probably really stupid day. They are sad but beautiful, and hopefully they can serve as a reminder that you just have to keep doing you. So plug in your head phones, and let the world fall away.

1) “Orange Sky” – Alexi Murdoch, Away We Go Soundtrack

2) “No Cars Go” – Arcade Fire, Neon Bible

3) “Bella Donna” – The Avett Brothers, The Second Gleam

4) “Perth” – Bon Iver. Bon Iver

5) “The Story I Heard” – Blind Pilot, 3 Rounds and a Sound

6) “The Gambler” – fun., Aim and Ignite

7) “I Know What I Know” – Paul Simon, Graceland

8) “Right as Rain” – Adele, 19

Photo by Remi Coin

Photo by Remi Coin

Health

A Healthier Alternative to the New Year’s Resolution

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Happy New Year, everyone. Please allow me to state my unpopular opinion: I consider New Year’s resolutions to be the devil. Yes, I realize that resolving to accomplish certain goals every January can really help people have a positive outlook on their futures and motivate themselves, but: 1) People very rarely have the wherewithal to stick with them (which is the most obvious drawback) and 2) New Year’s resolutions cause you to reflect upon the past year and think of all the shit you did not accomplish. As in, “Oh God, there goes another year and I didn’t change careers / put myself out there in the dating world / lose ten pounds…” You fill in the blank. Woe is you. You messed up this year, huh? But that’s okay, because next year you will do all those things! Right? Right! Except there’s a chance you might not. Because point #1.

But what if, instead of making New Year’s resolutions, we did Past Year’s reflections? I think this method is a healthier, glass-half-full approach to prepare for the next 365 days. Sure, there are some things you wish you could have done this past year, things you really hope you’ll do next year. But why not catalog all the really cool, life-changing things that you did do? It can feel like time is speeding up in all sorts of odd ways as we age, and it’s easy to lose track of the milestones as the year flies by. Reflecting upon the past twelve months reminds me how long a year actually is, and I wind up realizing that I have made progress as a human being.

Ready? Awesome, I’ll start, and I’ll start by being perfectly honest. This past year wasn’t one of my favorites. There were a lot of personal hurdles to confront family-wise, work-wise, self-wise, money-wise, pet-ownership-wise… pretty much all of the wises. But every time an obstacle cropped up, the way I ultimately chose to deal with it was with the pat on the back I gifted myself. I might not have compiled all the Facebook-friendly accolades that usually qualify as “milestones.” This year, mine were quieter and more personal but no less valuable.

Sure, there were a few big moments: I moved in with a significant other. We adopted a rescue dog and showered her with love. I left my Hollywood assistant job and launched my freelancing career, ignoring how much the prospect terrified me. I finished writing my first book. Then I rewrote it. And rewrote it again. (I’m still rewriting it again.) So, yeah, these are big, important things! But the moments in between these big, important things, when life was definitely not throwing me a Get-it-Girl parade, are the moments in which I feel I grew the most. And they’re the moments I think I’m proudest of.

I learned how to enrich my relationship with my family from afar when someone close to me confronted a health crisis. There was a lot of flying back and forth to New York for a few months, and I had to really weigh the pros and cons of my life on the opposite coast. That was scary. So was the realization that the healthy status-quo of your parents is not permanent by any means: it’s something we all know on a very basic level, but it’s different when you really start to know it. I’m not proud of how much I yo-yoed emotionally during that time. But I’m proud of and happy with my decision to stay on the West Coast. By even suggesting that I’d move back East, I was giving my family the impression that the situation we were in might be worse than it actually was. They wanted me to keep on keeping on so that we could establish a new normal. So I did. And they did, too. That was a huge thing to have learned. Life is full of establishing “New Normals” when something doesn’t go as planned.

Another “New Normal” (and yes, I’m sensing a pattern here) that I had to establish was in regard to my dog Sydney—the peanut butter to my jelly, the Hobbes to my Calvin. Sydney underwent major surgery on both her eyes and went completely blind due to glaucoma. I had to teach her how to “see” her world in a new way, and boy… it was tough. For weeks, I couldn’t even get her to walk to the front gate of our apartment complex. But every day I set a goal for the two of us to accomplish, however small, and every day, she achieved that goal with my help. Eventually, “Today, we’ll take five steps to the water bowl” turned into “Today, we’ll run up the stairs for a treat.” And I also finally paid off that enormous vet bill. We definitely have a new normal in our household, but I don’t think I’ve ever learned so much about patience as it relates to adaptability in all living things.

“Patience and Adaptability” could totally be the theme song for my recent career move as well. After several years of working different assistant jobs throughout the entertainment industry, I decided to strike out on my own and start freelancing as a writer. I prepared for it. I gave myself a financial cushion. I pulled together a portfolio that I was proud of. I forced myself to take on projects that I didn’t really think were up my alley, just to see if I could broaden my range. Yes, I was super nervous and had daily panic attacks for a month or so. And yeah, money is tight when you do this. It’s unpredictable. But like I said, patience, adaptability, and establishing a new normal have been my jam for 2013. And I’m happier. I might not be exactly where I want to be career-wise at the moment, but I’ll be damned if I’m not pleased as punch with my decision to go for it.

And what’s that they say about long-term goals? That they’re long-term, right? Patience and discipline pays off, little by little. Before you know it, a year has gone by, and that “little-by-little” has started to look like pretty awesome progress. I think pursuing long-term career goals is a lot like climbing a tree (which 8-year-old Liz was definitely the authority on). You don’t realize how high you’ve climbed ‘till you look down, and by then, it’s usually a lot easier to keep climbing than to try to make your way back to the ground. The only difference is that once you reach the top of your career-goals tree, you won’t be yelling for your dad to come out with the ladder and help you get back down before it gets dark out.

To those of you who are suffocating yourselves with New Year’s resolutions in light of all the things you think you didn’t accomplish in 2013—cut yourself some slack. Reflect upon this past year and take stock of how you changed personally. I feel great after writing this, much better than I would have in February 2014 after realizing that I hadn’t even scratched the surface of whatever my New Year’s resolution was. Even if you had a tough year and you don’t think your milestones actually look like milestones… look closer. Not all progress is heralded by 100 “likes” and a tornado of congratulatory texts.

Move ahead with each passing year, but don’t beat yourself up over goals you were unable to accomplish when life got in the way. If you did your best with the circumstances you were dealt this past year and you know it, then guess what? You just won New Year’s.

Career

The Job I Love & the Job I Lust

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I love my 8-to-5. Seriously! I work at one of the coolest companies in California, and my coworkers are hilarious, genuine, brilliant people. I’ve been nothing short than excited and thrilled to be going steady with my job (even though it didn’t get me flowers or chocolate on our recent anniversary). I can’t believe how lucky I am to be 23 and recently graduated with such a great place to work every weekday.

Photo by Andy Sutterfield

Photo by Andy Sutterfield

But I’m having an affair on the side.

It started with wandering eyes; a dangling participle would catch my gaze and pique my interest, a misplaced comma could so easily distract and entice me. Editing has always been my passion and, without my fix, I start to go into withdrawal. My obsession with grammar was born from my love of organization, mathematics, and rules—the sheer act of breaking down something as complex and nebulous as language and literature practically makes my mouth water. It’s like math with words!

When I started my day job, however, I was not tasked with meticulously grooming the text in a document but rather shaping its look and feel instead. This focus on document design has taught me so much in the areas of layout and graphic design (an area I’d previously only dabbled in, buried somewhere in an elective I took for my degree). But while my design skills flourished, my editing chops lagged, and I found myself missing semicolons and subordinate clauses.

And then I found the UNDERenlightened.

Our editor-in-chief, Anastasia, recently published an article chronicling our pitfalls and successes since we started operating UE a year ago. She was a complete stranger to me back then: a friend-of-a-friend who was cashing in enough favors to get an idea off the ground. I emailed her and set up a phone interview, eventually signing away my evenings and weekends in order to get a hit of that sweet, sweet grammar.

My original commitment of editing one article a week instantly exploded when I stepped up to managing editor at the beginning of this year. Our editing team dwindled to two: I edited every article twice, with Anastasia doing a final read before posting. Thankfully, our staff is expanding once again (though we always love more help).

It’s a lot of work and even more time, but teaching myself the professional skills that I want is a priceless opportunity. I’ve maintained and improved my concrete skills: I haven’t forgotten the important bits from my grammar courses though I still have my textbooks handy (I wish the same could be said for my French minor), I’m developing my ability to edit for tone and content, and Anastasia has guilted me into writing more articles than I ever would have volunteered. I’ve also discovered some invaluable resources: for example, the Chicago Manual of Style allows a free trial, which is quote/unquote unlimited (as long as you don’t mind making tons of fake email addresses—I’ll pay for a real subscription eventually, I swear!).

When my friends complain about their struggle to find fulfillment at work, I ask them why they don’t just make opportunity for themselves. However, I realize how tough that can be. I have to remind myself that my schedule is not for everyone: it is literally a job on top of a job. But if you’re committed to learning a new craft, I believe that you will make the time, even if you’re not a self-admitted workaholic like I am.

I’m incredibly lucky to have this outlet for my passions. I have the benefit of a day job that supports me enough to devote my evenings and weekends to editing. I even have family, friends, and strangers on the Internet who help this blog run, allowing me to fulfill my personal interests.

For now, I get to keep both the job I lust and the job I love. It’s exasperating sometimes, but it leaves me energized and optimistic for the future. I am confident that I can sow the seeds of personal development now, and reap the rewards of a grammar-filled 8-to-5 at a great company later.

Career

Defending a Liberal Arts Degree

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A few years ago, I was at a party for my mom’s work. I was chatting with one of her coworkers when my recent graduation came up.

Photo by Michael Cox

“Well, what did you major in?” her coworker asked.

“Linguistics!” I said, perky as can be, proud of my hard work.

“What will you be doing with that? Waitressing?”

What a jerk, right? Apparently not. I soon learned this soul-crushing kind of snark is pretty widespread: a classmate of mine once had someone turn to him shortly after graduation and say, “Know how to get an English major off your doorstep? Pay him for your pizza.” Ugh, makes my heart sink.

There exists a fairly common belief, for some reason, that a humanities or liberal arts degree can’t get you anywhere. People often struggle to defend the degree. Many say that it’s worth it because the humanities are “mostly about finding yourself.” However, in my opinion, “finding yourself” is a tough justification for that insanely expensive college tuition. If you really want to find yourself, you can travel, join WWOOF (Willing Workers on Organic Farms), volunteer, or really do anything that allows you to interact with a wide range of different people. You’ll still be faced with situations that force you to grow emotionally and cognitively. However, if you want the added bonus of concrete skills and the college education to attract top-tier employers, a humanities or liberal arts degree could be a better fit: the advantages are worth the expense and time commitment of college. I currently work at a large, urban public institution, encouraging students to consider Linguistics, English and Philosophy as beneficial, lucrative areas of study, and these are the reasons I give them when they ask if it’s really worth it.

In the vast majority of classes one can take as a liberal arts major, there are several key questions that are constantly asked:

  • “Why does this matter?”
  • “Is this truth?”
  • “How does this actually work?”
  • “What are the layers of meaning?”
  • “What is this consciously trying to tell us, and what does it tell us unintentionally?”

Getting into the habit of asking those questions can make you a really valuable asset in any job because you have the ability to suss out how to prioritize, how you fit into an organization, and ways you can use your role to improve processes and relationships. Following through with the answers will make you a more efficient and impressive worker. Asking these questions before you’re asked to do so is super valuable. You then make intentional choices about how you want to interact with the world, and you understand how your choices affect not only yourself, but also the people around you.

In order to succeed in the humanities, the papers I wrote—and I wrote a lot of papers—were not about reporting the facts but about convincing the reader that my point of view held water. This means I had to learn to carefully gather my information, and present it in a coherent and digestible way. You will need to do this in every job you have: being able to do it well will impress your supervisors, but more importantly, it will make it easier for you to articulate what you want to do. As a result, you can achieve your goals more easily.

Because a liberal arts degree requires you to learn about a wide range of topics, you will likely end up being well-versed in a lot of different areas. This makes you an asset because you can connect with a wide range of people, you can speak articulately about a lot of different things, and (most of all) you can easily learn about things that you don’t already know about. If you need to build a new skill for work, the tools to do so are already in place! Learning how to learn is an oft-used catchphrase for liberal arts, but it’s the real deal.

College is about your ability to make more money and do more challenging or interesting things over the course of your life, not in the first job you get. Yes, it may be harder to find your first job if you major in the humanities (unless you use your career center at school, which alumni are also able to use for free and network like hell), but over the course of your life, you are in a better position to make interesting career choices and are more likely to continue on to graduate education.  You have the training to think critically about what you want and the contribution you are making to the world. Many of the critics who say that humanities majors can’t find jobs are flawed because they only look at data from students’ first jobs, not at the arc of their career. When longitudinal studies are done, it’s clear that liberal arts and humanities majors have more varied career paths, and make the same amount of money as or more than business and STEM majors 15 years out from their degree. In fact, a huge amount of the talk in the media about the struggling humanities is due to the fact that it is incredibly difficult to measure the success of anyone, let alone people who studied a particular field. There are too many variables, and not enough data, to even do things like measure the change in enrollments of a field. So, then, take the hysteria around how “no one can make it” with a pretty serious grain of salt.

Most likely, if you studied something in the humanities or liberal arts, you did it because you loved it. Goodness knows, it wasn’t because you wanted to come up with snide and snappy answers to “Why would you care about that?” When you have a genuine desire to learn, you pore through more books, ask more questions, are more likely to be BFFs with your profs, and ultimately, get more out of your studies. All the skills you acquired are magnified because you were honing them in an environment that brought you joy.

It’s important to think about your humanities degree as a springboard for the rest of your life. So boo to all the naysayers. If you love the humanities, they are worthwhile to study. Whether you dug deep in your early modern literary studies, investigating gender portrayals in botanical novels or, like me, you spent your undergrad career looking at miniscule acoustic differences in vowel systems and their development, flaunt it. It was, is and always will be worth it.

Career

That Time I Killed my Childhood Dream for the Sake of my Sanity

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As a kid, I was blessed with a hyperactive imagination and a dramatic sense of destiny.  These are both helpful once you’re older and trying to be assertive in your creativity… but if you’re at a stage in your life when you’re obligated to take an afternoon nap, it makes you a tiny lunatic.  I believed in Santa until I was prepubescent (who cares what other people said, I had the logic worked out), and nobody could prove that dragons didn’t actually exist so I inverse-propertied that shit and stubbornly held out (we just haven’t been looking in the right places).  This was just the more fantastical stuff—you can only imagine how I was about anything over which I actually thought I had control.

Photo Submitted by Emmy Yu

I started acting in films when I was 5.   Ask me some other time, and I can go into the details of how bittersweetly intoxicating it was—the intricacies of how quickly and willingly any child ruled by wild, hungry imagination would slip under that wave of magical make-believe.  For now though, let’s just suffice to say that set life was pretty sweet.  There was free food always, someone announced my presence over walkie-talkie whenever I was anywhere, and working meant having my face on all the monitors.  I fucking loooved it.  (I’m a Capricorn.  You know who else was a Capricorn?  Stalin.)  Point being, when I realized that this was something that I was getting paid to do and technically could get paid to do for the rest of my life and, therefore, not need to do anything else but this all the freaking time… well, I was in.

I turned 6. And chose what I (thought I) would do for the rest of my life.

It’s fascinating how attached you can become to even the most trivial choice.  You embrace it because it gives definition to that messy, inscrutable concept of “self” you have in your mind.  You lock it down in front of you so you can trace the shape of it with your eyes and claim that this is you.  It’s incredibly satisfying… until, of course, it’s not.  Heavy-hitters like Fight Club and Mad Men explore the “not” in a way that I can’t even attempt, but from my basic understanding of it, you either 1) start hating the shape you’re seeing or 2) someone (maybe everyone) starts telling you “Hey, you’re wrong.  That’s not you at all.”  And you’re expected to just let go.

The second was what happened to me and, honestly, it became clear pretty early on that I would not have a future in acting.  But this was the choice I had made—not a trivial one in the slightest—and I was so very deeply attached.  I closed my eyes to the (mostly well-intentioned, for the record) Dead End Ahead messages I was getting.

I turned 10, I turned 11, I turned 12.

It’s difficult for me to step into this next part.  Even with the time I’ve had to soften the light and mute the volume, I try not to dwell on the memories of this time because it’s so easy to linger and ask unheard, unanswerable questions.  To keep it brief, the auditions were torture.  The stifling hush of cattle-call waiting rooms, where I spent at least 45 minutes for every 5 I actually auditioned.  The canned “thank you” responses that I carefully memorized, word for word, so later I could pick them apart, turn them over in my fingers and see if they meant something else. The dwindling callbacks.  The incredible silence from the phone—undeniably the most judgmental silence I have ever experienced.

I turned 17.

I don’t believe that I was an unusually intense child; it was just an atypical context for someone of that age to find herself in.  So, with the logic of my years, I decided that this whole experience couldn’t simply be something that was just happening to me—it had to be as melodramatic as “destiny.”  How on earth could anyone expect me to let go?  It had been molded into my identity for as long as I could remember and, no, it wasn’t even a significant time investment out of my year anymore—much less my day to day—but it was part of me.  You may as well have asked me to hack my arms off.

I can make jokes about it now (armless kids are funny, guys) but really, I struggled with it.  So I gave myself a cheat and went off to film school that fall to study writing and directing.  I packed your usuals—you know: clothes, new laptop, headshots, kitchenware.  I gave myself a little hope.  I wasn’t letting go of acting entirely—I would just come back to it later, and everything I had ever known about myself would still be true.  Everything I had ever insisted to be true would be true.

Photo Submitted by Emmy Yu

Photo Submitted by Emmy Yu

There’s no dramatic, climactic ending to this story.  There was no eureka! moment when I suddenly said, “Hey, get over it,” and then I did.  College and post-grad life led to a natural diminishment in the time and energy I put into keeping acting on my mind.  Admittedly, at the time, this was a transition I ignored because it was too painful to accept.  Better to cover it up with dismissive jokes about “my acting days of yore.”  Even now, I find myself fighting my panicked instinct to minimize the significance—to look it in the eye, this darling, childish fantasy of mine, and say that acting was just a phase I went through.  But I’ve also wised up to the fact that this is a kind of denial—the emotional equivalent of smiling after you’ve knocked your own teeth out.

Somewhere between ages 5 and 18, I missed the memo that there is always a gap between who you are and who you want to be, and sometimes that gap is unbridgeable.  Acknowledging reality—that this thing I once thought was an everlasting part of my life would actually end up as a montage in my head—was a terribly painful but necessary step in growing up.  And I’m not even sure how it happened but I can say that it did.  I stopped paying my SAG/AFTRA dues.  I don’t even remember where my headshots are stored.

The concept of “letting go” is a horrible, shrieking abomination—one of life’s unfortunate staples that will hold you down beneath the surface of all your expectations, breathless, drowning in your impotence.  What’s worse is that your instinct to fight it will cause you just as much pain—the lengths to which you will go so you can trick and manipulate yourself into thinking that it’s done or that it didn’t matter.  If you find yourself there, be honest with yourself but be gentle, too.  Be okay with the fact that you had hoped for something you couldn’t control and it ultimately disappointed you.  Paolo Coelho said “Everything will be okay in the end.  If it’s not okay, then it’s not the end.”  The end comes when you least expect it and will be much easier than you ever imagined.  You won’t even feel relief because you will have already floated on.

And if that’s too flowery to digest, just think of it as forcing yourself to throw up after a night of hard drinking.