Classes have been good so far. Not quite as scary as I feared, although I started reading ahead yesterday and realized the brick wall of ignorance is fast-approaching.

But on the whole I feel really good about my choice to go back to school. I love being back on a campus again. Everyone seems so full of promise and so blissfully ignorant of the soul-crushing 9-to-5 grind. I did have one panicky what-am-I-doing moment. Tuesday night I made dinner for Drew at my apartment and we watched Terms of Endearment. Drew had never seen it before. I'm a sucker for weepy movies. And, for that matter, weepy Dolly Parton songs. And weepy local news stories.

When her doctor gives Emma the bad news, I honestly (swear to God) thought to myself "I can't be a doctor." I can't spend my days in dreary cinderblock buildings with bad lighting and I look godawful terrible dressed in white. I'm just too pale. And what do you say to Debra Winger when she says "I understand what you're tellin' me. I need to think about what to do with my kids."

Clearly James L. Brooks wasn't crafting those scenes to pump up med school enrollment. I got over it pretty fast, though. Just because modern medicine failed Emma Horton doesn't mean I can't do some good as a doctor, right? Ugh. They really should have killed off Aurora and given Emma the sequel. But Debra Winger dies so well and Shirley MacLaine's stroke scene in Evenings Star is high fucking comedy. So maybe it all worked out for the best.