Doubt

Wednesday night I went to see "Doubt" at the Playhouse with Jimmy and Erin. I saw the movie in the theater last month and loved it. My head buzzed for hours afterwards thinking about who was right, who was wrong, how situations are affected by those in power, sexism, racism, etc. I was completely devastated by Viola Davis' performance as the mother. It's those times when you think you understand someone's perspective, and then you find out you have no idea about their lives and ideas that they really have. That scene was one of those moments. I'd never thought about having to chose between two kinds of abuse from two different powers. She knew for certain her husband would kill her son if provoked, and so she chose to allow her son to be with someone who might be sexually abusing him because that person was "there" for the boy--and wouldn't kill him. "It's only 'til June." I always want to know what the boy thinks about this. It's obvious he would chose Father Flynn over his father, but what is he thinking? And Sister Aloysius assumes that the mother will want to join her crusade to get rid of Flynn because the Sister sees this sexual abuse as so awful, but she has no idea about the boy's life outside of school. The sister is fighting for what she thinks is right, and the mother is fighting for the boy's life.
Anyway, the play was pretty good for community theater. The acting wasn't as strong, but the extra dialogue and the scenes that weren't in the play as compared with the movie also gave the play a completely different feel. The play's director allowed the actors to portray the story so that at the end I felt bad for Father Flynn and almost hated Sister Aloysius. In the movie, I'd felt more ambiguously about Father Flynn's guilt and Sister A's poorly shown good intent. Whatever the case, I don't know who's right and who's wrong. All I have are my doubts, which is probably the point.

A Four Year Detour at a Museum...

helped me figure out more about who I am and what I want out of life. It's not all figured out yet. That's supposed to be exciting. I'm not that excited. I have no idea when I'll become excited that I'm still figuring things out. Figuring things out isn't the problem most of the time; the problem is giving people an honest answer that doesn't bewilder them further--or cause serious concern for my mental health and personal responsibility.

I think I want to be a professor. I've thought that since I was in college. I've been working at a museum instead for a while. I like it. I don't want to do it forever. Still, it's safe, and I have amazing friends there. I get to chop things, burn things, dig in the dirt, dress down for work, talk way too much, and learn about obscure things that will be useful if the electricity is ever unavailable or I want to feed sick people the same way Harriet Beecher Stowe or frickin' Laura Ingalls Wilder did. University life is not exactly like that. Plus, it's harder work.

Four years is a big break from pursuing what you think are your goals. I've learned a lot, gotten married, and "grown as a person," but maybe I've just been procrastinating. Going after what you want is scary. What if you aren't good at it? What if you hate it? What if you discover that you were pursuing the wrong thing? I guess, change course. Lots of people expect me to do well, excel, etc. at this. I feel a bit of pressure.

My applications to grad school are nearly done. There's nothing to do but twiddle my thumbs and write a bunch of blither until I find out if any of them like me. Then I'll know what course change I'm making.