Back, back to school again.

This week, I returned to graduate school. I take two classes a semester, both at night, immediately after my full time job. Needless to say, I'm pretty tired, a state that is not helped by the fact that we are not going home early today (which we do almost every Friday before a 3-day weekend). I was hoping for some nap time, but oh well. I am even going to the gym after work because it has been tough for me to go this week with classes starting.

Speaking of classes, I have found that there are a few different "types" who emerge in every grad class I have been in so far. This might vary across disciplines; I've only taken English grad classes, so I wouldn't know. But in these classes, where the majority of the students are also working full time, some characters emerge:

1. The too-enthusiastic girl: You know the type--she claps her hands when assignments are given out, "whispers" how she's "so excited" about this class, and hits the poor girl sitting next to her when making a particularly dramatic point. Oh, and she seems to forget that the first class is the only class from which you have a good shot of being let go early. Yet she keeps talking, and talking...

2. The cool, quiet guy: He sits in the back, staring into space, pondering deep, brilliant thoughts. He'll occasionally speak, but when he does, he speaks with the expectation of a few seconds of silence following his every utterance, and rolls his eyes if it does not happen.

3. The overprepared, arrogant student: She's read all of the books already. He wants to know if he can hand in the assignments in early. She had already read some of the books, so she read all the books that author ever wrote to "be fair." He really wants to start talking about his research paper ideas--so what if it is the first day of class! And, of course, these students inform all of the other students, and the teacher, of these facts as often as possible.

4. The writer dude: Hemingway and Dreiser tried to write the great American novel, but he's about to blow them out of the water. Just you wait.

5. The overly angry girl: she's a minority. She's a lesbian. Therefore, anything that does not have to do with both of these things is ridiculous, discriminatory, and a waste of time.

Luckily, I have all of these characters, and more, in my classes this year, so you can hear all about them as we discover the joys of 20th century United States literature.

There are two new students, hopefully unique to my Tuesday class, that I recently encountered as well: Big-head girl, who waved her head back and forth the entire 2 and a half hour class, just enough so I could never see the board or the teacher; and Blabbermouth girl, who had to tell the uninterested (to her story--attracted to her body) guy all about how she just knew she was going to get an A in the class. Also, she seemed to think everything the teacher said was outrageously funny. So I could not see or hear during my first class. Bodes well for the semester, doesn't it...

As I only have two semesters left, I suppose I should try to appreciate these unique characters. I plan to try, but I can think of a few jokes that start: so I was in a room with a bunch of English grad students...

Drive Me Crazy

I am a bad driver. I have been hit by a truck that was backing up, slipped off the Belt Parkway and drove up a guardrail, and, to avoid being hit by a crazy driver, drove off the road on the New Jersey Turnpike and blew two tires. Then there are a million almost-moments, like when I almost hit the person in front of me when he slammed on his breaks, or when I lost control of the car in the snow and was barely able to regain it in time to stop. Maybe these all weren’t my fault, but a better driver would have been able to avoid at least one of these incidents.

I am also a reluctant driver. I don’t like driving. I don’t like how you can’t relax for one moment. I don’t like how easy it is to get angry at the other drivers. And I don’t like how driving is so dependent on the fallible human temperament. No wonder it is so unsafe to drive. Personally, I feel much safer in a plane.

Max and I had a fairly terrifying experience a few weeks ago. We were making the long trek to upstate New York to see his parents. When I say long, I mean over 3 and a half hours, easily, with no traffic. And we go every few weeks (another issue for another day). Max usually drives, as I am a bad driver (see above) and I dislike it. So we were driving along what is the longest portion of our journey (50 miles on this one highway). We were chatting; it was a Friday night and we were just catching up on our increasingly busy weeks. We’ve both been given more responsibility at work lately, and it had been an exhausting week.

As one of our headlights was out (the light just stopped working) and one of our brake lights was also out (my fault—maybe I’ll tell you that embarrassing story later) so Max was trying to go close to the speed limit. With the house looming in the near future, we did not need to get a ticket. So Max had the cruise control set. It is one of those roads that changes from a 55 speed limit to a 65 one and back again, seemingly without any reason behind it. So while Max was fairly certain it was a 55 limit, he wasn’t positive. We were in the middle lane, moving with traffic, at about 62 miles an hour.

Anyway, we see headlights approaching us, fast, in the distance. We weren’t worried, but we did keep an eye on it. It was a truck. As it approached us, it flashed its brights at us a few times, and then left them on for 30 seconds or so, indicating that we should move out of the way. Max was very comfortable staying behind the guy in front of us, and the truck had plenty of room to move, so we didn’t. Apparently, this infuriated the truck driver. He screeched into the right lane and hurtled in front of our car, almost hitting the car we had been driving behind and forcing Max to slam his brakes as to not hit the truck. Now in front of us, we could see the truck was transporting large, metal tubes, all strapped onto his flatbed by chains. While this was annoying, things like that happen all the time, and we were not too concerned.

Eventually, the truck moved over to the right lane. Max, keeping the same speed (he was on cruise control) eventually began passing the truck. Well, the truck driver must have seen us starting to pass him, for he once again threw his truck into the middle lane in front of us, again almost hitting another car and forcing us to slam the brakes. He repeated this right lane/middle lane move 4 times in the next 20 minutes. I called information to report him, but the girl was a bit of an idiot and couldn’t help me so I gave up. Nonetheless, I was starting to get really nervous, and I asked Max to get around this lunatic.

So Max (who is an excellent if fast driver) decided to do so. The truck was in front of us in the middle lane again at this point, fresh from almost hitting yet another car. Max waited until a large SUV passed us in the left lane, got over right behind him, and drove fairly close to him, betting that the truck driver would not want to kill this innocent person. He was wrong.

As soon as the truck driver saw we were about to pass him, he threw his truck into the left lane forcing both us and the poor SUV guy to drive on the cement divider to avoid being hit. As we passed him, he honked and yelled at us. Luckily, we were able to get far ahead of him and didn’t see him again.

I have the greatest sympathy for truck drivers. I’m sure they have a hard time of it on the road. I have personally witnessed idiots cut them off, forcing them to brake harder than they should, and I know they have to deal with that kind of thing every day. Still, was it really necessary for this driver to wage a kind of psychological warfare on us? Because we didn’t get out of his way? If Max wasn’t such a good driver, we would have gotten into a very serious accident. He was also endangering other people on the road. It’s terrifying to think that there are people out there with access to such a dangerous weapon who have no problem hurting other people.

Maybe he saw our Darwin fish….

Close Encounters with the (Un)Evolved

Max and I are originally from Long Island (I lived closer to Queens, he lived further out on the Island). Constant trips to NYC, very diverse schools, and an eclectic mix of people helped both of us from an early age be very tolerant of others, and, on the whole, were accepted in return. As anywhere, there were of course quite a few intolerant jerks, but, overall, it was pretty great in that regard (not so great about traffic…) When we went to college, we realized it isn’t like that everywhere. I worried about it a little bit when moving to Pennsylvania, but after a few years here, and over a year of the Darwin fish planted firmly on both of our cars, I just forgot about it.

So imagine my surprise when, a few weeks ago, Max and I were driving home from my parents. We were stuck in bumper to bumper traffic, and we were just chatting about what we would do when we got home from our busy weekend (me: nap and read; him: Guitar Hero and practice tae kwon do). We were just sitting there, and we heard a few repetitive beeps. I looked out the window and saw a gray-bearded man in a large truck gesturing for us to roll down the window. So I did so, thinking that I knew what it was; one of our headlights was out, which we knew about but had scheduled an appointment to get it fixed the next day. So as I smiled uncertainly at this stranger, I was not prepared to hear what he would say.

“You know, evolution isn’t true. Have you read your Bible lately?” he shouted out, in a fairly jovial but firm tone. I looked at Max, looked back at him, waved, and rolled my window back up.

As I did so, he leaned further out his window and said. “He recanted on his deathbed. Google it!”

Luckily, just then the traffic moved and we merged right in front of him, giving him plenty of time to contemplate our Darwin fish in all its glory.

In a way, although it was certainly a strange encounter, the man was fairly polite. He didn’t rant at us or call us names. It actually seemed like he genuinely wanted to inform us of something we might not know about.

On the other hand, can you imagine what would happen if we, as either atheist, secular humanist, a non-religious person, or any such ilk, made a similar statement to a car with a Jesus fish on it? I wouldn’t be surprised if we were sued.

Our would-be teacher might be interested to know that Max and I, unlike many people on both sides, have read The Origin of Species. There is really nothing Darwin needed to recant. He didn’t, by the way. I think some people equate a lack of religious fervor to something like the Goth, or gangster, or whatever trend is currently popular amongst teenagers—which can sometimes be temporary, immature, rebellious, and superficial. It is just a phase that we, as young people, are going through. So although I appreciate the restraint this man showed, it did seem a bit patronizing, like we would “grow out of it.”

So, on the off chance this man is reading a blog written by the wife of an atheist, let me clarify something: The large majority of people my age that I know are either not religious, religious only for convenience, or atheists. Most of us have chosen this direction based on a lack of satisfaction for the “answers” religion provides. Perhaps as we age, we will change our minds; anything is possible. But we have made this decision rationally, not out of rebellion or pique or on a whim. And we are very happy, and we still have the potential to be good.

Defining Your Own Attraction

It is rare to find any person who is 100% satisfied with how they look. In our own eyes, we can always be thinner, have nicer/longer/richer hair, have better skin, and a myriad of other problems that only we are aware of. Unfortunately, I am included in this number.

Since my wedding, I have relaxed a bit. Last semester was a particularly difficult one for me, and I skipped the gym to keep up and ordered Dominos and the like to save time. Once summer came, I was so burned out that I didn’t step it up at the gym, as I usually do, which didn’t help. And I lived on soda—for some reason, I was craving it all summer. So the natural result of all this (I suppose), is that I’ve gained some weight. I don’t know how much in pounds (I don’t weigh myself; I find it depressing) but there is a definite girth to my stomach that wasn’t there before. I am still considered “thin;” I still fit into all my clothes (although they are slightly tighter) and you can’t notice it if I’m wearing clothes, but it still really bothers me. So last week, I went to the gym every day except for the day we had to meet with our mortgage guy, and this week I plan to do the same. I haven’t felt any thinner because of last week, but hopefully with this week I will start to lose some weight.

The husband, Max, is quite supportive and complimentary, and it helps so much. He is always encouraging me to go to the gym, but he never, ever comments on what I’m eating (I usually manage to talk myself out of my midnight Wawa ice cream runs). That support is invaluable.

He does have this theory, however, that I’m not sure that I believe in. Actually, it’s more of a belief (for a man without a faith, Max has lots of beliefs). He believes that if you believe something, it will happen. Now, he does not mean that if I believe that the skies will open and shower me with gold, it will actually happen. He thinks instead that by believing something, you kind of set your mind on that course, and it will eventually happen. So, if I believe I am on my way to looking good, other people will notice that and agree with me. I will appreciate this feedback, which will in turn inspire me to stay with the exercise and diet plan.

The aspect that I both appreciate and dislike of this idea is one and the same: it puts the responsibility on me, which is where it should be. I am ultimately responsible for my weight (barring a medical condition, of course). I do have control, but I have to put in the effort. Therein lays the tradeoff.

Well, I am off to my lunch of pizza bagels (only a little over 200 calories!) and grapes (barely a 100 calories!).

Atheist=Hell?

My husband, Max, who is quite a proud atheist, always says that he likes the Native American tradition, where the earth itself was worshipped, along with all things natural, including the sun and the animals used for nourishment. In some tribes, they would give thanks to the animal they had just slaughtered for giving up its life so that they may live. This deceptively simple form of worship worked because the Native Americans were respectful and even a bit in awe of the things that allowed them to live: water, animals, the sun, and many more. This makes sense to my very practical Max, because they directly thanked the things that gave them life, rather than some questionable omniscent presence.

I am not an atheist, although my husband is. I, personally, do believe that there is something out there. It is not necessarily a god, or even a presence, but it is something. I don't know what, if anything, is out there, and I'm okay not knowing. I don't think a lack of knowledge equates to a lack of faith or morality; it just means that I accept that there are things that I will not know for certain, and that's okay.

Can you be a moral person without being a religious one? Many people say no, you cannot. Without religion, how will you know what is right and wrong? I disagree, as a non-religious person myself, and one who always makes the effort to do the right thing, although not always successfully, I admit.

People come down to two things: nurture and nature. If you are raised by good people, or at least have good people in your life as an example, then it is much easier to be a moral person. Not having this presence does not mean that you have no chance for moral rectitude, however; it just makes it a bit harder. There is something in our very core, perhaps the soul, that is some unchangeable material that makes up who we are. This does not set your fate, but rather tilts your inclinations one way or another. This, I feel, is partly why some people who are victims of abuse are able to rise above it, while others succumb to the vicuous cycle. It is certainly possible to use religion as your moral guide; however, it is not the only way to live a life as a moral person.

In the end, I guess I feel as long as I try to be a good person, and succeed for the most part, it is unlikely that any deity will not allow me entrance to the good afterlife because I did not worship the right way. I just don't believe any one religion is right, so why choose one and force myself to stand with something I do not completely believe? That seems dishonest. So I continue my solitary quest to be a good person, relying on what I was taught by my parents, and what I believe in myself to be right.

A member of our bridal party was unhappy that we married in the church, because he felt as we are not believers, it wasn't right. Max really didn't want to marry in the church, but I did as it was a place where my grandparents (who both died before our wedding) worshipped at, and it made me feel like they were a part of my day. Max, great husband that he is, reluctantly agreed because I felt so strongly about it.

I know some people who would not have married an atheist, either because Max's beliefs are so opposite to their own it would have been a constant source of contention, or because they truly feared marrying an atheist would be wrong, or against their religion. Obviously, with my own lax beliefs, this was not an issue for me. Sometimes I worry about Max, that maybe he shouldn't talk so openly about his beliefs (or lack thereof); maybe I, as his wife, should try to make him a bit more religous on the chance that something bad will happen to him after he dies. But I don't, because I feel, deep in the place where reason disappears and you just know, that he is a good person, and that we will both be okay.

Jealousy vs Envy: Two Different Things?

I consider myself to be a pretty good person. I consciously and consistently try to be a good friend, wife, daughter, sister, in-law, etc. I really do. And when people I love do well, or if something good happens to them, I am always, genuinely, happy for them. However, there is in me a streak of envy, which I have in the past deplored and tried to ignore. This happened very strongly to me a few months ago, when two of our very good friends as well as a family member looked like they were going to buy a house, whereas Max and I were still searching. We were especially upset because we tried so hard to do all the right things (pay down debt, save for a down payment, see a financial counselor, and so on). I was quite envious of these people whom I love, and I was ashamed of myself for being so. However, I have come to think that there is a difference between jealousy and envy.

After doing a quick search, I found these definitions:

jealousy: jealous resentment against a rival, a person enjoying success or advantage, etc., or against another's success or advantage itself.

envy: a feeling of discontent or covetousness with regard to another's advantages, success, possessions, etc.

Note the word "resentment" in the jealousy definition, which immediately makes the feeling more active and agressive. Also, jealousy is directed at an external person; the emotion is directed outward. Envy, on the other hand, seems to be more directed toward yourself; it is not so much wishing for someone else to fail, but wishing to achieve comporable success yourself. The discontent mentioned is from a lack in yourself, and, therefore, can be fixed by you.

Besides from semantics, there is just an essential difference in feelings, I think. Jealousy can cause you to act differently, to even resent a friend or family member for their perceived successes. Envy does not allow you to change your behavior toward others.

I still feel badly about feeling even a little envious of my friends and family, but, at the same time, I am truly happy for them, and they do know that. There are people who let envy and/or jealously stop them from being happy for others, but I will never allow myself to get to that point.

Do you ever find yourself struggling with these feelings? Or is it just me?

What I'm Reading Now: The Reluctant Queen

On Deck: The Lion of Justice

Dr. Horrible Strikes Again

"The world is a mess, and I just need to rule it."

Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog at once embodies the idea of a sing-along blog and then, occasionally throughout, and especially in the third act, transcends it. All of the actors, most from former Joss Whedon productions, do a wonderful job, but none flawlessly embraces the character the way Neil Patrick Harris, who plays Dr. Horrible, does. He manages to make an aspiring supervillian understandable and even sympathetic. It helps that the hero, played by the great Nathan Fillian, is, as Dr. Horrible claims, "a tool." Harris, most recently seen as the suave and consistently awesome Barney in How I Met Your Mother, nails Dr. Horrible (also known as Billy). His mannerisms, especially the rapid eye blinks while nervous, manage to shape the character in the too-short 40 minute show. However, when the plot calls for it, Harris convincingly morphs to a member of the Evil League of Evil. His way with dialogue elevates the entire production to a higher level that, even with Whedon's stellar dialogue and lyrics, it might otherwise not have reached. Fillian, the hero of the piece, is clearly having a ball with his over-the-top portrayal of a hero who is also sort of a jerk. Felicia Day does very well as the female lead, but is portrayed as rather one-dimensional, as almost too saintly to exist in the real world. Her voice, however, is lovely, and when it is contrasted with Harris' beautiful voice, it is stunning. Fillian's slightly rougher voice is perfect for the character, and his vocals are also quite impressive.

The songs, on the whole succeed very well. In the first act, Laundry Day/Freeze ray is probably the standout song, although when the three leads all sing at the end during the What a Man's Gotta Do song, it is amazing. In the second act, it is bookended by two amazing songs. I Can't Believe My Eyes is arguably the best song in the show, especially when Harris and Day sing across from each other. The lyrics deftly wind around each other, sometimes connecting, sometimes opposing. Brand New Day, although not my favorite song, really showcases Harris' vocal talents, as well as a transformation in his character that is shown almost entirely through his song. In the third Act, So They Say, which kicks off the final act, delivers a strong performance from all the actors, and even introduces some peripheral characters who add quite a lot vocally. It is the perfect build-up for the rest of the more serious third act.

Dr. Horrible ends on a fairly shocking conclusion, although any Whedon aficionado will not be surprised that it ends on a sad, and even tragic note. On first viewing the third act, I was upset and even mad. Upon further viewings, I reluctantly concluded that it was the ending that packed the most punch, that made the most sense with all of the characters.

Dr. Horrible will be taken down tonight. We can only hope that there will be a sequel, and that Day, Fillion, and especially Harris and Whedon, will get the accolades they deserve, and we, the viewers, will get the pleasure to see them in many more productions.