There have been articles popping up lately on one year masters degree programs that lure desperate people into debt simply to make money for the institution, not to impart a truly useful set of knowledge or a viable career path. This has always existed in some form, but the internet has allowed universities to enroll vast numbers of students and cheapen those degrees to practically worthless in the real world, even though the tuition prices have only increased. Library science was one of the early adopters of this model, despite so many retiring librarians not being replaced by professional MLS holders that the value of the diploma was dwindling twenty years ago. With competition for the few remaining jobs augmented with virtual graduates, it's literally impossible to guarantee a job in the library field.

In some ways I'm getting the same vibe from the online Python course I attended. The full-time program that costs $15,000 sounded intimidating, with dubious returns since the amount of material covered in three months could in no way stand up to a full degree in comp sci, so I decided it wasn't necessarily worth the investment. Initially I indicated my decision to not continue, and that was that as far as I was concerned. 

Now the full court press is on. I've received five emails and corresponded with admissions about my application being incomplete despite never even formally applying for the program. I left the door open, granted, and planned on reevaluating the part-time program if it started in September or later, but despite the class sizes being 30 or so students they seem to be doing everything in their power to secure participants. If they're this hard up to fill classes, how serious is their admissions process? Is this a diploma mill under another name, plus it's not even a full degree? Another red flag is the almost total lack of scholarships to defray the costs besides promising them a percentage of your salary if you graduate and do end up as a developer.

I've fallen for the trap of assuming education = job potential before and don't want to repeat the past, but also don't want to pass up an opportunity to open a door that might lead to a better career. I can't ask my family for advice as they always advocate for educational opportunities without the healthy dose of skepticism I hold, and it would just start another fight about how I'm being negative, etc, etc. I see warning signs that are making me increasingly uneasy, but the growing fear that I'll never land another decent job is pushing me towards enrolling just to do something to advance myself, even if it doesn't pan out in the end.

I wish my old job hadn't gone back to the office. I wish I had some connections where it counted, and where I could know this would be worth it. Life is just never that easy.

Some people have a way of seeing the world that is unique and lasting, even if in their lifetime it was not fully appreciated. Vincent Van Gogh was one of these individuals, and when I heard that a group had created an interactive exhibit, I knew it was on my immediate list of must-sees.

My sister has always been a Van Gogh fan, and since she's staying at the Allen Hotel this week and the next, we finally got tickets to the exhibit at Pier 36. It was also my first time back in NYC since I moved out in November of last year. The show was amazing and moved over many parts of his oeuvre so that I had more of an appreciation for his earliest paintings as well as the later, well-known ones, and the music was a wonderful set of songs carefully curated to correspond to each period. 

Some of his most famous paintings (Almond Blossom, The Thresher (after Millet)) were done from the psychiatric hospital he was in for a year, gazing out the window for inspiration. I left with a new appreciation for expressing exactly where and when you are and that even static views can have movement, which I'm trying to hold on to.

For me, the visit to the city was more painful than I anticipated, however. I can't walk nearly as far as I used to since I'm so out of shape, but I felt at peace in a way that I can't in the suburbs. The diversity, the ever-changing neighborhoods, the constant activity and noise are things that irritate a lot of suburbanites. To me that is home, somewhere that offers more options in an hour to do...well...anything than in days spent elsewhere. NYC is the place where I knew the rhythms and could retreat to the calm of my apartment, or choose to go somewhere completely new despite having lived there over a decade.

Now I live a life watching through suburban windows with loss and regret. There is movement for me, another application to Costco, stalking the library job lists, considering the programming course, trying to figure out if there's anything else that pays a living wage around here. I have to remember that Van Gogh produced masterpieces even while in the asylum. That even within a static snapshot of my life while I'm somewhere I do not want to be, whorls and brushstrokes of possibility can come from that and lead to something great. Or at least a sketch of something decent.

We thought a perfect fourth of July activity would be to visit the Grounds for Sculpture in Hamilton Township, since cultural activities usually aren't on the menu for most families on this holiday and the weather wasn't unbearably hot. I had never been there before, but would most definitely return again to spend some more time wandering around when (hopefully) all of the buildings reopen despite Covid. They also have an absolutely lovely restaurant that reminds me of a cross between a Middle Eastern cafe on one side and a European castle-like intimate dining room, with French cuisine. It was booked solid but definitely is another place to eat on their terrace or inside and soak in the atmosphere; the gardens are gorgeous and well-tended.

Along with Seward Johnson's incredibly lifelike statues of ordinary people or anachronistic painters and picnickers around the park, I found most of the art very enjoyable, although abstract. However, I was captivated in one of the courtyards. I saw two statues that were incredibly lovely representations of women sunning, and the lines, wrinkles, and yearning for warmth through what seemed ordinary or even hard lives etched themselves in my memory. They are the only two sculptures there by Leonda Finke, who I had never heard of before, and although I'm unsure where the rest of her art is displayed, I would love to see more of it.

In some ways they reminded me of more optimistic versions of Rodin's Fallen Caryatid series, where the woman is trying her best to fulfill her duties but is crumpled by the weight of them. She has given everything and needs someone to take the burden so she can recuperate before she re-shoulders it, but there is no one to help her so she has collapsed. The struggle isn't over, as she is not totally crushed, but if no relief comes that will be the ultimate result. 

Finke's women seem to be in that middle, mourning period of life, young enough to remember a more carefree time, but old enough that the experiences and hardships of living have taken a serious toll. The luxury of tilting their face to the sun is a brief respite that can temporarily lift their burdens in a small but important way before they go inside, close the door, and return to the daily mundanity that is gradually wearing them down.

Of course, what we interpret in art is dependent on our viewpoints and where we are mentally and emotionally when we encounter it, so I very much realize that I'm projecting myself onto these pieces. It is instructive to see where my mind goes, though, and Rodin's Caryatids have haunted me for years for similar reasons. Perhaps I can replace his vision with Finke's, and take the more optimistic view. Instead of bent but not yet broken, I can be weary but not yet defeated, and turn my face to the sun.