A Good Bowl of Mac ‘n’ Cheese and a Master’s Degree
By Kaitlin
Unwashed dishes had sat in the sink since the dinner before last. An unpaid electricity bill had been slapped on the table the previous morning. As for the human life in the household, coiled in a fetal position beneath an overpriced and over-compensated percale duvet cover (yes, only the cover, because who actually needs a duvet?), I remained—eyes shut and breathing steadily, hoping my clock was wrong and it wasn’t actually 1:40 PM. It would be the first time in 20 years that I loathed what I was formally known as “summer vacation.” Now, the passing heated moments of summer were heavy reminders that this was merely an indefinite time. Questions were pressed that I had no answer to. How’s the job hunt coming along? Have you had any interviews yet? What’s next, now that graduate school’s finished up?
What’s next? How dare you.
A month prior was still anxiety ridden, but at least there was jubilee in the air. What a relieving and cathartic experience graduation is. All your hard work and academic strife are coming to a close. It’s finished. Whatever “it” was during your time as a student is all done. You’ve done it!
While the happiness in the air gave me motivation to begin the journey of pursuit, unease quickly followed. I couldn’t help but think, no—believe, that perhaps I had wasted my time in graduate school. Why didn’t a job just automatically follow? Why had I not been served a future on a silver platter. It occurred to me, then, that my work is never finished, and maybe it shouldn’t ever be.
Work is about continually pushing yourself to be the best—the best by no one else’s standards, but your own. Work is about knowing how far you’ve come in your journey. Work is also about perpetuating the spirit of pursuit; after one accomplishment, seek the next. Work is about being proud of where you’re coming from, and knowing that it’s okay to not know what the next step is.
There was a moment in that very specific time of uncertainty, as I was persistent in remaining in bed for likely the rest of the day, that I realized the only dishes in my sink were cereal bowls. I hadn’t actually cooked in what seemed like another, separate lifetime. But if ever there were times in my life where I felt the best blend of agency and creativity, it was cooking (and writing, obviously, but for the sake of my point, I’m going to speak on cooking).
In college, and a habit a took into grad school, cooking for me was more than escapism—though it may have begun that way. A long and arduous description of my terrifying workload in my life as a student said plainly, I worked too much. I held three jobs and overloaded in credits to cover my double majoring and minoring. One of those jobs was co-running a wedding photography company with a good friend of mine.
Life, at times, seemed relatively impossible to succeed in. That said, I took to stress-cooking. Eventually, what began as an attempt to distract myself from my schoolwork became an outlet of infinite creativity. I used flavors as an avenue to give myself new eyes; and with those new eyes, I (somehow) was able to return to my assignments and produce good work. The results were honestly astonishing.
My dish of choice: a good ole bowl of macaroni and cheese. I had always given in to a solid box of Kraft, but when I started to experiment with various flavors, *weird* cheeses, and distinctive pastas (at times even making my own), I came to the conclusion that the simplest of dishes can provide the rarest forms of inspiration. A dash of buffalo sauce would transform the cheese into a daring adventure. Sprigs of dill would instantly create a bowl of warm, holiday comfort. It was different every time. I wanted it to be different every time. After one accomplishment, I sought the next.
Largely emblematic of my academic life, I recognized that cooking, and then enjoying, a bowl of mac ‘n’ cheese was still work. But, like having come to pinnacle of my academic career and earning a master’s degree, this was work that perpetuated the spirit of pursuit.
The empowerment I felt on either side of the creative/academic spectrum were both feelings I was proud of. The poise needed to complete the tasks that are continually forming the woman I am now is something I am proud of. Where I am today, regardless of the times I felt only adequate enough to roll into a ball under my duvet cover, is something I am proud of. I am proud of where I came from, and I am learning to accept that it is okay to be uncertain of where life leads me next.
