From a former student, let’s call him Joe McDuff, who’s deciding what to do next:

“I’m still really worried about my future in academics.

Not the least of my worries is the financial hit I’m going to take if I continue on to do Ph.D. work. I’ve spent the past few days searching the Internet for scholarships and funding, but since I’m super-inexperienced in the academic world, I’m finding it really hard to track anything down. If I don’t find some sort of funding I definitely won’t be able to continue on (which may not be such a bad thing, actually, considering the second-guessing I’ve been doing of late…).

The writing is going pretty well. I’m at the point where I think I know enough to know that I don’t know anything at all. I’m finally at the beginning, which is always a good place to start (wish I could remember who I just paraphrased, but oh, well). I’m reading a lot of interesting things at the moment: Michael Chabon’s newest, William Gay’s short stories, and the memoir The Tender Bar (fitting for me, I suppose); next on the list: Cormac McCarthy’s The Road, Richard Ford’s The Ultimate Good Luck, re-reading Down and Out in Paris and London and A Confederacy of Dunces, and finally tackling Crime and Punishment. I have four months off from academics (if I get accepted to the Ph.D. program) so I want to make the best of it, to read the work that makes me love stories so much.

And to think. I want to think about the future and figure some stuff out. Will an academic life allow me enough time to write, which is after all, the one thing I want to do above all else? Will I ever feel comfortable in a setting I’ve found to be so exclusive (both the academic and literary worlds)? Do I have it in me to rock the boat forward, instead of falling back on traditional standards? How do I make my mark? Am I really happy as a poor student? And how long can I put on the starving-artist hat before women stop finding it endearing and start thinking it’s sad and pathetic? What kind of husband will I eventually be? What kind of ex-husband might I have to be? Do I give up the idea of the relatively safe academic life to chase the writing carrot? Pretty typical stuff for a 26-year-old postgraduate liberal-arts student, I suppose, but daunting questions nonetheless.

I saw an ex-girlfriend just before I left town after the holidays. As soon as she sat down, she immediately told me I looked like I as going bald. Then she ordered an espresso and asked me what I was running away from; why I did I choose to live my mid-20s in Europe, so far from home? It’s a peculiar sort of blessing that seemingly innocuous comments, when spoken by a certain type of person, can cut so deep. I suppose the lesson of that story should be that I need to stop meeting up with ex-girlfriends. But, instead I’m left wondering if maybe she had a point.

I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll leave it at that. I’m sorry I got so long-winded, but the holidays are a time for reflection, and I’ve been looking in the mirror a lot lately. I look much older.”