I wrote these words on my kitchen calender followed by an arrow jetting off from the day after portfolio review into
the foreseeable future. (Or at least, to the end of March and a few days of April, because that’s all the page showed.) I wrote them in a combination of jest and trepidation, a nod to my new freedom and a slight exorcism of the fear brought on by that lack of known purpose.
Today those words caught my eye. Now what indeed?
Today marks a week from my portfolio review, and I find myself despondent. A week since three and a half years paid off in a day of bustle and stress and hearing AiP students say the words to me that I had spoken to countless previous graduates at the portfolio reviews I had attended as an undergraduate. I’m done. That’s lovely. I’m the proud owner of a ‘Best of Show’ trophy made of plastic and a heaping pile of student loans, and now spend my days sitting around the house, hoping to hear back from potential employers…a task that was rather enjoyable for a few days, but has certainly lost it’s glamor.
Of the employers that expressed interest in my work at portfolio review, I have heard back from one. I will admit, the job she is offering seems interesting, but I would begin as a benefit-free contractor and she referred to the rather mid-range compensation I proposed as ‘the big bucks’ (that I would not be making yet)…and my employment is in no way guaranteed — my next step is to come in and do some ‘test’ illustration to see if I can work in the styles they want. Which makes me sure I will choke.
The other emails I sent out have gone, as yet, unanswered. To say nothing of the graphic design want ads I have been answering for upwards of a month.
During one of my early quarters, a teacher spoke of a former student who, to her frustration, hovered in the ‘C’ range. Determined, she buckled down and re-worked previous projects, made multiple variations and did many times the work required of her. At her portfolio review, an employer was so impressed with her work that he asked her to come to the city in which his company was located immediately, the following day. When she waffled, he insisted, offering to pay moving expenses if she only were to come join his company right away.
During my time at The Art Institute, I worked hard (most of the time, at least.). Partially due to inspiration from that story, partially due to my over-achiever nature, I regularly did two or three times the work required. My teachers liked me, held me up as an example to my peers, kept my projects to show later classes ‘how it was done’, as they say. I was in an honors class, I won scholarships, I was student of the quarter.
I admit, I there was a little part of me, in the back of my mind that kind of thought, maybe I would have a company so desperate to have my work that they would pay for me to move to their fair city. Or that perhaps, I would have employers fighting over me, wooing me with bonuses and perks.
That I would get more than three solid expressions of interest, at least.
That more than one of those employers would get back to me.
Despite the fact that my scholastic performance was excellent, only one of the employers I spoke to was interested in my graphic design skills…and yes, I did focus on my illustration abilities, but that certainly isn’t all that I am capable of and I have been told that my graphic design skills are very good as well. And it is exciting to have people interested in 
my illustration abilities, but I would have thought that at least a few people might have liked my graphic design work, my advertising work, my web design. But despite teachers telling me that I’ll “do fine”, “have no problems getting a job”…I seem to be off to a lackluster start.
And perhaps it’s just the weather…the snow and cold that is hanging on at the very bitter end of March and killing my freshly bloomed daffodils that is making the future seem gloomy. Maybe it is the hormones I accidentally threw out of whack, or the personal art project that I started today that isn’t going as well as I want it to — a dependable source of bad-moodiness. Or being broke or being cooped up in the middle of nowhere all day or the weight gain a couple months of being couch-bound with homework resulted in that is bringing me down. Maybe my long afternoon nap messed up my head.
I don’t know how to end this journal. I feel sad today.
