Mari and Scott in college

An excerpt:

The Pet Shop Boys blast through my earphones as I walk across campus toward my morning class, Philosophy of Religion. As I near the crowded green space, I put on my sun glasses and blast the music even louder, drowning out the multitude of Hellos and invitations to play hackey sack. Usually I’m my chipper self. Today, I’m not.

I’ve got the brains

You’ve got the looks.

Let’s make lots of money.

I pull a cigarette out of my bag, and look around nervously, still not used to this bad girl persona I’m trying on for size. Its pathetic, I think, just a little. I’m still a virgin. And I’ve yet to ever get into trouble. But between my sunglasses, my cigarette, and a song about embezzlement, I feel powerful, bad, raw. Like a spy, or an evil anthropologist. I pretend to pretend to be a straight A college student, who is really stealing ideas from top researchers and selling them back to Russia or China or New York City.

I dart around the corner and head toward Baker Hall, feeling strong and sexy and mysterious and dangerous. The music slips into me and I feel transported to another world.

Scott.

All power comes crashing into a screeching halt and a flood of nervous embarrassment takes over. He hasn’t seen me yet. His long body is turned away from me, moving excitedly as he speaks to a professor I don’t recognize. The professor is clearly taken by him, engrossed in his passionate brilliance. As if sensing my presence from afar, he turns his head, meets my eyes, and turns up his lips like a perfect capital U, teeth hidden, eyes squinted, cheeks suddenly flush. He dismisses the professor as if he were simply air and begins to walk my way.

“Hey! Where you off to?” he asked, almost rocking back and forth on his feet.

“Umm, Philosophy of Religion? Hello?” I turn my head, unsure whether to roll my eyes or smile.

His cheeks flush crimson. I find this endearing. “I’m just kidding,” he answers, and I can’t tell if he’s lying. “What did you think of the reading?”

I love and hate when he asks me this question. Inevitably, this will become one of the most fascinating conversations I’ve had. But also the most infuriating. He throws out ideas like wrecking balls, destroying whatever I’ve just stated, regardless of its points, or whether it aligns or contradicts his last argument. But I can keep up with him, a challenge that, it seems, few can do. I know he loves me for this. In fact, I know he stalks me for this. I just can’t tell yet if he scares me, or thrills me, or both.

“Well, to tell you the truth, the author’s description of the Tao reminds me a lot of the fundamentalist idea of surrendering to Jesus and the New Age idea of releasing control to the Universe that guides you. Its like, you let go of the ego, let the Spirit take over one’s judgments, decisions, giving up control for a full trust that leads to peace and happiness.”

His smile widened and opened as if I had just given him a Christmas gift. “You are SO fucking cute when you are wrong!” he joked, pushing me a bit on the shoulder until I lost my balanced, forcing him to grab me by my side, toward him.

“No I’m not!” I push off of him, dust off my clothing, smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt.

“The Tao has nothing to do with letting a spirit guide you. There isn’t even a real concept of spirit or God. It is abso-fucking-lutely NOTHING like you said,”

“But it is about the idea of surrendering control, letting go, simply being. I think that is the same state that the fundamentalist Christian or the New Ager gets to, even if the Taoist conceptualizes it as a sort of nothingness, and the Christian conceptualizes is as the personal Jesus entering and controlling their consciousness, and the New Ager conceptualizes it as a conscious love-energy that can sorta see the bigger picture better than the individual person’s mind can.” I can tell by the way he raises his left eyebrow that he agrees with me, but he’d never admit it or the game would be over and defeat would be mine.

He strokes the sides of his mouth, pretending to be fake pondering while he actually thought about his next retort. “Except that the Christian and the New Ager, which is really just based on Christianity at its deepest level anyway, are letting go of control with the assumption that this will make them a better, more moral, more prosperous, more MORE person. The Taoist doesn’t give a shit. There is no particular morality, no good or bad. No God judging, or Universe made up of love. Its totally morally agnostic.”

“Well, I guess then it depends on how you see human nature, Scott.” I answer forcefully. “In my view, it’s the same thing. There might not be a particular moral code like the Christians, or all love like the New Agers, but the Tao leads to inner peace, harmony with oneself. I don’t believe that its possible for a person to truly be at peace and be a genuine asshole at the same time. They might be counter-cultural, they might even be antisocial, but they would be unable to hurt others. I think the person at peace is still the better, more moral person. There is no such thing as a Taoist serial killer.”

“Oh sure there is. A serial killer can be a perfect Taoist. He would find his own moral code that would allow him to be in harmony with who he really is.”

I stop, frozen in his words. I turn my head and look over, his capital U beaming at me. “Dude, we past our classroom like 5 minutes ago!” I turn and start walking quickly in the other direction, already suffering the humilation of walking into the classroom in session, eyes stating, professor annoyed, discussion suspended because of my lack of courtesy. “I blame you, Scott!’ I tease, yelling over my shoulder as I quicken my pace. “Every time I’m with you, I completely lose touch with reality!”