Degree of Freedom

My sister reminded me that five years ago today I defended and received my PhD in neuroscience: Friday, May 13th, 2011. Five years later, I can't say what that means, if anything. Have I failed my degree or has it failed me? Or is it both? Or is it neither? For me, the PhD conjures an amorphous, thick sludge of emotions. I've learned people's usual reaction to such things is one of accomplishment. But I don't know how I feel about it. The degree itself is just a piece of paper. I don't think I even know where mine is. And it's a limiting relic at that -- a piece of paper that relegates one to the expectations of being unapproachable, one-dimensional, awkward, and intimidating. It's unfortunate because I'm none of those things (okay - maybe I'm a little intimidating at times but that's just my high standards for myself showing through), nor are my friends that possess similar pieces of paper. Yet, the social obstacles that result from the degree are enormous. Or at least they have been for me. But the experience required to receive that piece of paper...that's the real accomplishment. That experience provides one of the most powerful toolboxes from which to build something great. But what is that "something"?

At the very least, I feel privileged to have had the opportunity to live such a rich life of experience and knowledge. It's truly fortuitous and remarkable given the sordid conditions so much of the global population endures just to find clean water and nutrition among falling bombs and buried dreams. But I'm frustrated that I haven't yet been able to translate my experience and knowledge in ways the benefit the broader human experience. For this, I feel selfish. I feel failed. I didn't pursue my education to benefit just me with some fancy accredited hall pass. I don't care about that; in fact, I'm repulsed by such grandeur. I thought I was a part of something bigger, something much larger and more important than myself. My education was intended to liberate my ideas and manifest my ambitions of discovery and altruism. But now I just feel imprisoned and selfish. I have these rare, valuable tools in front of me but no materials from which to build, and no blueprint on what to build anyway. And so now what? What was it all for? Should I just keep playing sad songs in my apartment whilst sipping wine and coffee? Somehow that seems even more selfish. But it does makes me happy -- something I can't say my degree has ever done for me.

Or maybe I just need to read my previous post on perfection one more time.
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