kind of a whiny post I wrote a week ago

It's been a little over a week since I finished my final presentation for graduate school. Two days ago, I finished my final paper for John, 17 pages of decent research without any fluff of what was probably supposed to be a 20-25 page paper.

Right after my review, I was so happy. It was a great happiness to have brought my project to a successful conclusion- a happiness of being able to present a project well, of having a project I felt was worth concluding graduate school.

But now, I feel nearly nothing. There's no sense of euphoria, there's no feeling of expectation of the open road which I now face. It's one of the rarest moments of life to have no real commitments in terms of a mortgage or a job. My job prospects are good (I was recently offered a job in a planning office, which I turned town for various reasons).

Was I satisfied with my decision to go to grad school at Washington University in St. Louis? Absolutely. It's a fantastic school, generally filled with incredibly smart, interesting students and (generally) great professors. I'm a much stronger, more versatile designer, and I've learned an incredible amount and discovered a direction to my approach to architecture. It's an incredibly expensive school, so from a financial standpoint, we'll see what happens over time, but they are also incredibly generous with scholarships. Half of my tuition was covered for my time there. I'm satisfied.

I am sad that I am leaving my friends in St. Louis, the first time I've ever really developed a relatively normal social life. I will miss all of them a lot.

I also have mixed feelings about Saori going to Germany for nine months. It's going to a be an incredible experience for her and she's got a great job in Boston lined up after that where I'll be joining her. I'm very happy for her, but I'm also a little jealous- the job, the travel, the security in knowing what is next, the whole package. And I'm also going to miss her. 

What I feel is not quite discontent, more like a dull anxiety. For the past two and a half years, I've had so much direction and purpose. I believed in what I was doing, I was engaged, I was a speedboat with a powerful engine and I knew where I was going. Now, instead of feeling like I have the whole horizon to command, I just feel adrift.

It's great to be in Salt Lake, to be surrounded my family and beauty and where I'm fed and given drinks and entertainment. It's a reminder that that architecture is really just architecture, that there are bigger things, like babies and career trajectory and family.