There will be no reunion. There will be no reminiscence. There will be no regrets. 10 years ago this month, I graduated from the University of New Mexico with Bachelor of Arts degrees in Political Science (magna cum laude) & Psychology with a 3.7 GPA. Aside from a 16mm film class taken on a dare, I've never taken another college course and have no desire to do so.

In my four years of college, I will admit I became more intelligent. I learned how to write better, read quicker & research topics. I studied theories, solved equations & prepared my own thesis. I worked hard as a student, thinking there was wonderful job waiting for me to work until the end of my days. The truth was I was more clueless about what to do with myself at the end of higher education than when I entered college. Higher education isn't that high.

As a fresh college graduate, there was no girlfriend to marry, no job waiting for me, and no prospects on the horizon. When I asked family and friends for advice, they shrugged their shoulders and gave little comfort. With all the knowledge I had acquired, I was a lost & lonely. The only thing that awaited for me was life.

I moved to Florida for a summer & tried starting up a Internet Radio Station with my older brothers. This turned out to be a bust proposition before it started, and I returned to Albuquerque, feeling I wasn't done exploring that town.

Use those degrees, I thought. Justify all that education. I worked at a homeless shelter for a five month winter-month stint. The homeless were discussed in both Political Science & Psychology fields. Being on the front lines washed away all theories and analysis. Seeing people live on the streets was quietly brutal for me. The majority of the roaming tattered masses would take advantage of the system to live a discouraging lifestyle.

Next came the Charter-Heights days. I was a childcare worker at a 24-hour behavioral facility for kids. Our goal, more than anything else, was to keep the kids in the line, give them medication, and enforce the rules. When this did not happen, clinical punishments were enforced. Time outs, privileges taken away, basket holds, blanket wraps, Quiet Room stays, five point tie downs & Thorazine shots. The worse the punishment, the more traumatic for me (and the kids). I began to suffer PTSD symptoms and assumed the worst out of every one. I thought every car was a drive by shooting waiting to happen. After two years, I ended my social work career a complete wreck. There would be no reunion.

The white collar world came calling, and I became a copy editor/gopher at an architecture research company for two years. I was the lowest rung on the totem pole, but it paid better than any job I've had before or since. We worked on reports for the National Park Service about their housing facilities. Over 100 parks were reported on, and when the results came out, most of the parks disputed the results. Millions of dollars were spent on the project, and nothing was accomplished. Gradually, they ran out of work for me to do, and I spent six months becoming an expert Tetris player. I quit the job along with the other copy editor, mainly because screen jobs suck the life out of you. You stare a computer for hours, doing nothing but typing, and you go home feeling wiped out. Very bizarre.

The next few years brought on other brief stints at jobs. I was a shipping & receiving clerk at a violin shop. I was a calendar typist/writer for a weekly newspaper. I was a day laborer for random tasks. I was a college graduate, and I still couldn't figure out which way to go or what to do.

I started driving a cab to pay the bills, assuming it was another quick stint of my working journey. The funny thing was that I actually enjoyed the job. No boss looking over my shoulder, a flexible schedule, briefly meeting a variety of people, and no two days were the same. My Psychology & Political Science degrees actually come in handy when dealing with the public. I can diagnose who is mentally ill quickly. I can accept people with all sorts of issues and opinions. I can drive around my town rather well. Three and a half years after being hired, I'm still cruising.

While in the cab, people occasionally ask me why I moved to Albuquerque, and I reply that I went to college at the university. Some ask if I graduated. Some ask with what degrees. Some even ask why I'm wasting my life driving a cab. I just smile when this happens and reply "I'm using my degrees just talking with you, stranger."

What a long strange trip its been, making ends meat in America. Ten years ago, I graduated college. The memories of those days get sketchier every day, and I don't miss them at all. Now I'm a student of life, and every day, there are tests. I ace some of them and fail others. There are no official grades, no one is keeping score, but I've finally realized how much of life is really up to me. The future is as up in the air as it was when I graduated, and only one thing is for sure: I'm only looking forward these days. There will be no reunion.

Chris Jungle plays as much as he works.