My hair is everywhere. Strands intertwined in sweaters, clumps collected on rugs, secret piles waiting in corners, stragglers left on bathroom tiles. What cannot be seen with the naked eye is accumulated and swept up by my Swiffer. At this rate, I'm not exactly sure how I have any hair left. So I’ve done the math, and I've figured out that I’m going to go bald by the time I’m 35.
Telogen Effluvium. The condition where more hairs than normal prepare to fall out; often times caused by stress and anxiety. This is me. What's happening is that my body is telling individual hairs to stop growing, to cease development. What's happening is that I'm stressed.
Sometimes I feel like my Swiffering can't keep up with my rate of hair loss. Sometimes the pressure to succeed, to keep up, to stay afloat, makes me wonder if this is how things are going to be for the rest of forever. Sometimes, I don't understand how everyone isn't suffering from a nationwide baldness epidemic.
If this year is anything like the last ten to fifteen, then the internship and job search season is upon us. It seems like this is all anyone can talk about. Updating LinkedIn profiles. One strand gone. Filling out applications. Another clump fallen. Getting called in for an interview. My hairline recedes at the mere idea of this.
What bothers me is that we’re all losing hair over the prospects of not accepting an internship the summer after our freshman and sophomores years. We’re finding fallen strands because we don’t know what happens if we’re not a part of the WPI 90+ percent job placement rate when we graduate. We’re told every day that we must have a competitive resume, be involved in the right number of clubs and organizations, maintain the appropriate GPA. What bothers me is that people are taking the first job or internship that crosses their path in order to keep pace with the omnipresent stress of acceptance. Please take note of my accomplishments by the state of my shiny scalp.
Of course this is my own opinion, but to me there’s something sad about so many of us entering a line of work in which we’re not, for the most part, engaging in something that we’re explicitly passionate about. Even if it’s just for two or three years. That’s a lot of years! And these aren’t just years. This is 23 and 24 and 25. If it were a smaller percentage of people, perhaps it wouldn’t bother me so much. But it’s not.
Obviously, we need to make money. We have school loans to pay off and families to support. For those of us with an actual need to make money quickly, these industries might make a lot of sense. In fact, I think that working hard to earn a decent amount of money can be quite noble. I’m still struggling with the fact that due to my own (selfish) aspiration to be a writer or journalist or world traveler, that my children probably won’t have the same opportunities I had growing up. For most students, however, I genuinely don’t think it’s about the money. It’s a factor, sure. But it just feels like a factor.
What bothers me is this idea of validation, of rationalization. The notion that some of us, regardless of what we tell ourselves, are doing this because we’re not sure what else to do and it’s easy to apply to and it will pay us decently and it will make us feel like we’re still successful. I just haven’t met that many people who sound genuinely excited about these jobs. And that is super depressing to me. I don’t understand why no one is talking about this.
Often times, I’ll be sitting around studying or hanging out when I’ll hear one of my friends talk about a project they’re working on or an organization they’re a part of or an app they’re designing or an independent study they’re conducting. And I’ll just think, really, honestly, how remarkably privileged we are to hang around with such a talented group of people here. I am constantly reminded of the immense passion and creativity of those whom I get to spend time with every day.
What it boils down to is that we could be doing other things. There’s a lot of cool stuff we could all be doing — and I don’t need to enumerate the clichés.
Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe these industries are a fantastic way to gain valuable, real-world skills. And maybe everyone will quit these jobs in a few years and do something else.
But I’m not so sure.
Maybe I’m ignorant and idealistic but I just feel like that can’t possibly be true. I feel like we know that. I feel like we can do something really amazing to this world. And I fear — at 23, 24, 25 — we may all be bald.
