I May Be a Failure, But At Least I’m Not Bitter


Evidently, there’s a fine line between “making it” and “utter failure,” and, right now, I’m managing to stand squarely on it.

There’s less than a week before this chapter of my life ends and I move on from graduate school and happily settle back into one of my favorite places doing different and unsettlingly-unspecified-at-this-point things.

Oh, right there! Did you catch the fine line?

It’s between “Yay! You’ve almost achieved your goal of earning a dual-PhD in five years and get to live in a place that you love!” and “Hmmm…well, that’s nice that you get to choose where you live, but if you’re not going on the academic job market, what are you going to do with doctoral degrees in philosophy and women’s studies?” (The bold and italics are not meant to boast, but to emphasize that, according to some people, I managed to reach the terminal point of not one, but two presumably “useless” disciplines. So, yeah. Where DOES one go from there?)

I’m grateful for those who, upon hearing the news that I’m defending my dissertation next week say, “Congrats! What an accomplishment!”

But when it comes to graduate school, there are lots of opportunities to fail along the way, and one of the easiest markers of success or failure depends on how it ends. Many people are quick to assume that if you don’t make it through grad school, or if you persevere through the years but don’t continue on with academia once you’ve graduated (whether by choice or by an unfortunate string of applications, interviews, and rejections for academic positions), then you somehow failed. In other words, if you don’t get a job with that degree then you haven’t done anything worthwhile.

I know this well.

I’ve seen lots of people leave their graduate programs or tirelessly work to the end without ever really having direction about where to go once they’re done. There are also those who finish their programs only to be unable to get that rare tenure-track job.

 Degree or no degree, each of these situations make it all too easy to feel like a failure. And to feel very bitter about your terrible life choice to go to grad school. (For these reasons and more, there are so many articles about why one shouldn’t go to grad school in the humanities. Although I’m not bitter, this post leans toward being a lucky survivor’s story, and I tend to agree that graduate school is a poor choice for many.)

I’m currently living in this awkward space of being a now-late-twenty-something-year-old with no semblance of a career.

Sure, I may get really lucky and that could change sooner rather than later, but let’s be honest: For now, on the surface, it looks like I don’t have much going for me. Or, at the very least, whatever I have going for me is housed in what I’ve already done.

Some might feel better knowing that plenty of other people are in the same graduated-with-advanced-degrees-but-no-direction boat, but for me, the Bitter Boat is too sad and crowded and I don’t want to have any part of it. (I’ll get back to this in a minute.)

For now, let’s address something strange about my current situation.

I feel like I’ve already been here.

Concerning my relocation, I’m literally back where I was five years ago when I graduated with a bachelor’s degree in philosophy. Same clouds, same sounds, same coffee shops. It feels like I just took a very long vacation and awoke from a bizarre Pennsylvanian dream.


With respect to my degree, I’m hearing the same question that I heard a hundred times before: “Oh, what are you going to do with a degree in philosophy?” But at least then I had an answer: “Go to grad school.” Duh. Having that answer at the height of the recession felt pretty fortunate. I thought, “It’s a five-year contract with health insurance, they’re paying my tuition, and I get to keep studying what I love while being able to teach at the same time!” That was a terrific plan for twenty-one-year-old me, so I was happy to do it.

However, over the past year in particular, (especially after I made it explicit that I wasn’t going on the academic job market), it’s been a different experience when people ask, “What are you going to do with a doctorate degree in philosophy?”

For years my inarticulate answers have been relatively vague at best. I’d try to temper my anxiety surrounding the question and dance around a suggestion of continuing to do publicly engaged philosophy, teach, and work within local communities (uhhh….like I always said I wanted to do, mind you). It’s only been a few months now that I could add something more definite: “I’m moving to Colorado!”

But even this is a trap.

People say, “Oh, Colorado is beautiful! Did you get a job?” and my awkward kicks in again since I didn’t move to Colorado because I got a job in Colorado. I moved to Colorado because I wanted to live in Colorado. But, of course, you don’t need a degree to move to a specific place. So the relentless questioning persists: “Yes, but what are you going to do with your DEGREE???”

Fine. Let’s address the nature of my degree and “what I’m going to do with it.”

The strange thing is that, much like how turning twenty-seven doesn’t really feel that different from being twenty-six, I don’t anticipate finally having my PhD to drastically change my life.

Throughout grad school I didn’t (and still don’t, really) know what one does with a doctorate degree in philosophy outside of academia because hardly anyone in academia actually supports you in finding other options outside of academia so you feel totally alone and hopeless like you’re looking into an empty-abyss-of-a-future so stop asking me, okay!?! (Although I’ve also come to accept the possibility that many academics don’t help find alternative routes for grad students because they honestly, sincerely, don’t know about them. They are academics, after all.)

In my experience, the majority of my worry has been spent desperately wondering what could possibly happen next.

But the very real and painful risk of realizing that I DID just waste five (but likely more for most people) years of my life is always there, ready to nag at the first moment of pessimistic cynicism, insecurity, or self-doubt, to which, just like feeling like a failure, is pretty easy to fall victim.

Facebook tells me that many people with whom I graduated high school and college have their own homes, cars, and even their own businesses. While others got busy raising babies, I spent all that time reading, writing, studying, and teaching so that I could eventually put some letters after my name.

And what am I doing with that dual-doctorate degree? I already told you, I’m moving to Colorado! But when others don’t see “moving because you want to” as a decently admirable response, working so hard in grad school for all of those years does start to sound pretty useless.

Here’s why.

About that Bitter Boat.

If I thought that this degree is just something with which you are to do one particular thing (i.e., get a tenure-track job at a university) and I’m not, at least not now, doing that one particular thing, then I would be totally bitter. With such an undefined future and no pending applications for tenure-track jobs, my degree obviously isn’t doing that one thing for me so the only reasonable conclusion would be this: It WAS a waste of time, an incredible amount of difficulty and sustained stress for no good reason, and yadda yadda this is why so many grad students are miserable jerks.

Fortunately for me, my sanity, and those who have to deal with me on a daily basis, I don’t look at my time in grad school like that.

Sure, there were plenty of things about graduate school that really sucked, and it broke my heart when one professor told me, “You’re in your second year! Enjoy the rest of your time in grad school. It’s the best time of your life.” My thought was, “I have THREE more years of this…and it only gets worse!?!?” But for me, a young person with no dependents, there were aspects of grad school that were pretty sweet.

Once I accepted the fact that for five years I would have to get by on a very meager salary (a major downfall of going to graduate school), I made certain decisions for myself about how I was going to spend the next several years living. Especially once I decided to not kill myself doing all of the things one is supposed to do in preparation for the job market, I managed to create time to do lots of other valuable and worthwhile things, like hang out with friends a lot more than I did in college, go dancing on a very regular basis, cook, and work on “side projects” like my blog and YouTube channel (coincidentally enough, the very projects that have supported things that I might actually have going for me at present).

Most importantly, in grad school, I got to do what I wanted to do. I got to continue studying the things that interested me and teaching philosophy how I think it is best taught.

So how did I manage to stay balanced and motivated for those five years? And how do I leave a graduate program now, without a job nailed down, and still feel good about what I’ve done?

By being bull-headed (as some faculty were keen to note), and by doing what I love. (As a side note, I want to suggest that this has something to do with the value of integrity – even for one’s own well-being – but I’ll let those connections hang for now.)

I made sure that throughout grad school I remained true to the reasons why I started studying philosophy in the first place. And because of all that, my years of study have and will continue to shape and inform what I do from here.

That’s the cool thing about philosophy, or about doing philosophy in a way that respects the idea of “doing philosophy” as cultivating a specific way of life (a philifesophy, if you will!). It can’t help but shape you and inform your every action, whether you continue to exist within or outside of the ivory tower of academia.

In other words, if you take a good look at me, who I am, and how I live my life, you’ll see what I’m doing with my degree! Five years ago I didn’t fully appreciate the weight that would be put on the degree upon finishing, but whatever peace of mind I have now exists because I can see that I wasn’t just getting a philosophy degree. I was doing philosophy in a way that, for five whole years, was cultivating a different sort of philosophical me.

Five years ago I didn’t fully appreciate the weight that would be put on the degree upon finishing, but whatever peace of mind I have now exists because I can see that I wasn’t just getting a philosophy degree. I was doing philosophy in a way that, for five whole years, was cultivating a different sort of philosophical me.

Now that I’m in a new place, I’m happy about my geographical location. And in terms of my philosophical activity, I’m still up to the many of the same things. I still want and plan to teach. I still want and plan to write. I still want and plan to read. And I still want to live and breathe and enact and practice philosophy as I have been over the past five years – with passion, with pleasure, and with practical applications that help people live better. At some point all of this might actually lead back to an academic position. But right now, I also have the freedom to find new ways to do all of that which otherwise might be too restricted, overdetermined, or secondary to other demands if I were going directly into a conventional academic position at this point in my life.

So not getting an academic job right after graduation may look like a failure to some, it may make going to graduate school look like a waste of time to others, and it may even feel like it to many of those who share my position.

But I’m not bitter because I never backed out on what I was doing and why I was doing it from the moment I chose to go to grad school.

Without those years of grad school, I would still be undergraduate-philosophical-me. I had a lot of the same philosophical ideas when I was twenty-one, but I didn’t have the years I’ve spent exploring them. My relationship with philosophy then was like a summer fling. Now it’s like a committed marriage that has sustained through the ups and downs and plans to push on.

Follow me on Twitter @Cori_Wong, subscribe to my YouTube channel, and see pictures of my cat on Instagram.

15 thoughts on “I May Be a Failure, But At Least I’m Not Bitter

  1. Pingback: Let’s Talk About TEDx, Baby | Cori Wong, Ph.D.

  2. Pingback: Never Too Late « The Modern Renaissance

  3. Looking forward to the children’s book, “The Value of Wasted Years”.

    Time is the universal currency. It cannot be wasted. It is nice to see you don’t live your life looking for external justification. Which can be exhausting. Unlike talking to you. I have always been under the impression that a career is something you earn, but a job is something you accept. Feel free to drop by the brewery to humor my philosophy.


  4. Pingback: Random thoughts, daily diary style. Lock it up, stuff it under the mattress, and get pissed off when one of my sisters finds it, bobby pins the lock, and uses the info to make fun of me later. – slimegreen

  5. I really enjoyed this post. Initially I thought it was going to be yet another diatribe about the pitfalls of grad school, but you–at least in my eyes–redeemed yourself at the end. I’m in a similar position as you, however, I’m still in grad school for at least a couple more years.

    In any event, it heartens me to hear that other folks take share a similar view to my own: namely that grad school was never about earning money, but about the exploration of ideas and, for me, learning about myself. Certainly we all have pragmatic concerns about money, but I cannot stand folks who suggest that they “wasted time” in grad school. From my perspective, the only folks who have “wasted time” are the ones that neglected to embrace the opportunity to learn in the first place.

    • Thanks for your comment. I agree that grad school can be a great place of learning, and I really think that keeping that in perspective (namely, that the skills you gain in grad school should be valuable for anything that you do next) is a solid way to make the best of one’s experience. It’s a lot like this article I saw recently about approaching the tenure-track life as a seven-year post-doc:


      However, I am also really sensitive to the fact that being able to go to school for the joy of learning is a very privileged way to assess one’s experiences. Not everyone can afford to do that (in terms of money and time, but also in terms of opportunity cost, etc.). I didn’t come through as strongly in my post as it does in my overall thinking about grad school, but this is problem for me that I think is really important to address. At least in so far as this: if education for self-edification is valuable (I think it is, among serving other purposes) then it should be equally available to everyone. It’s not; that much is obvious. But it should be. (Again, though, I don’t want to glamorize grad school either…I don’t think that grad school is good for everyone given that it’s not all books, epiphanies, and self-actualization.)

      Anyway, good luck getting through the next few years! I hope you manage to keep a healthy perspective about your journey!

  6. In my world view (I have a couple of decades on you) you are in a good place and the things that you have learned will come in quite handy. We have turned our backs on thinking which is not a good thing. We have made learning about acquisition of money, but humanities type learning is vastly more important than we currently give it credit in our everything must be immediately measurable world.
    Stick to your quest, you will be successful as you define it.

  7. Thank you for writing this, Cori. It is very rare to find such sincerity in people these days. You are a diamond in the rough.

    I’d like to share something with you that I’ve learned in the last year as an anthropologist, writer, and human being.

    I haven’t had the privilege of meeting you face-to-face, rather, I can only send this message to you via the internet. While I don’t know who has been so critical of your life decisions, I would guess that it probably wasn’t those closest to you like your family and dearest of friends. My guess is that it was your classmates and colleagues who, themselves facing the grim prospects of academic tenure in America, are feeling scared. It’s natural. As we’re coming to realize, the American model of capitalism is taking over the world full force and none of us are safe from the fiercely competitive global labor market, not even those firmly entrenched in the Ivory Tower. I would also guess that a lot of those people wouldn’t dare say such critical things to your face, but said such things when you weren’t around, and maybe you felt the vibe through social media tools such as Facebook/Instagram/whatever else people use these days online. Again, I think it’s natural because of the pressure the American model forces upon us. More and more people are acting out of fear and misguided speculation.

    Please don’t invest too much thought in what people say about you, whether its criticism or praise, unless it’s well thought out and articulated, especially on the internet. We are living in a time of the Instagram selfie when false representation of real life is prevailing, and sincerity is miserably failing. Very few people are pulling themselves out of that buzz and calling b.s. on it. We’re buried so deep in phoniness, whether talking about mainstream culture, Washington or Wall Street, that for many people, the only way out is through irony.

    I like that you’re not taking that way out. Keep doing what you do, meaningfully engaging with community, and surrounding yourself with kind and sincere individuals who empower you to flourish.

    I’ll keep reading because of your truthfulness and compassion. And I’m sure more kindred spirits will gravitate towards you because of those qualities. Best wishes to you.

    • Thanks for leaving your comment, Stephanie. I appreciate your perspectives, and I agree with many of them. It sounds like you a have a sense of how important it is to do what you love to do and surround yourself with people who enhance your well-being as part of a larger community. I’m all about that, and I appreciate hearing it in another person’s words. 🙂

      Thank you, too, for continuing to read along!

  8. Cori,

    Loved reading this… Philosophy is indeed a love of wisdom. And, tragically, wisdom doesn’t pay. In fact, some of the wisest (Jesus, Socrates, Buddha, Lao Tzu, Nietzsche to name a prominent few) advocated living a life of poverty so that one could stay focused on the reality of our living, breathing moments. Yes–had you focused explicitly on building your career/house/business, you would have more socially and culturally reinforced stuff to show for your efforts. But that is not what drives us to study philosophy. We love something more ephemeral, something mysterious, unknown, expansive, illuminative. And yes, ideally, philosophy is a love-affair (or marriage, as you say) with a way of life that allows for the continual unfolding of learning more about ourselves. (remember the Oracle at Delphi?)

    And what do I see from here? You have a gift of communication, exposition, reflection, humor, and insight. Your blog is great to read. Have you heard of Penelope Trunk? http://blog.penelopetrunk.com/about-penelope-trunk/ she has a great piece on why not to go to grad school from a career perspective. And she appears to be a successful person.
    She reminds me of you, because now you still have a ton of time to investigate entrepreneurial possibilities: there is so much to do with an advanced degree in philosophy — but, like the liberal arts in general, you’ve got to be creative — artistic — with how you’re going to make a career. A PhD (or MA in my case) is a foundation, a yet-to-be-possibility. So you’re right. You aren’t a failure, and you shouldn’t be bitter. The world is your oyster… take some free classes, start your own business (then sell it) and start another business, and build a career–if that is what the investigation into the wisdom of knowing yourself is dictating to you at the moment.

    A hearty “cheers” from this corner of the circle.

    • Thanks for you post, Sean! I think you have captured the essence of a philosophical life quite well. 🙂

      It’s wonderful to be back, and I hope to reconnect with you in person again soon!

  9. Cory, this is so well written, thanks for sharing.

    I’m glad you know who you are and stay true to yourself. You’re an incredibly passionate person; passionate people don’t even agree with society on the meaning of the word “failure.” Continue to be bull-headed and do what you love. Following your heart without hesitation is, truly, a fantastic way to go through life. So congrats on living life the way many others wish they could (while choosing not to). Breaking conventions is never easy, but often rewarding in unforeseen ways.

    It’s funny how uncertainty makes us uncomfortable. Funny because it’s the most common human condition. Should we gain comfort from the familiarity?

    Colorado is a fine place to live. I’ve been there a couple times and even went on a quick trip out there not long ago to scout out potential future destinations for living. Maybe someday we will cross paths again. I’d enjoy that

    I look forward to reading your stories from what lies ahead

    • Hi Jason,
      Thanks for your note! It’s good to hear from you, as always. I’m really happy about where I’ve been, where I’m heading, and most importantly, where I am. I know that you’ve been on a bit of a journey yourself with trying to figure out “what you’re going to do” with you life. And I agree with you that such uncertainty is one of the most basic constants that we face in life.

      I hope that we do manage to cross paths again someday. Be in touch if you happen across Colorado again!! Cheers!

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