I feel as if I am on the verge of tears; the kind of tears that form as physical concentration of frustration. The same tears one cries in the midst of their teenage years when everything remains uncertain and one’s body is at war with itself.

I opened an e-mail today that was unexpected. It was not one that I foresaw, and, to be honest, I don't think it was welcome. The e-mail was notification that I have received a 50% tuition scholarship as well as £1,000, meaning my cost at Nottingham would be about $6,000. This is unwelcome because I had become very acclimated to the idea that Hayley and I were going to move to New York, I'd attend New School and she would work in the public space as a social worker before attending an MSW program. Now, we have to think seriously about Nottingham again, meaning we have to think seriously about relocating to England and starting over.

If I were single, that is there was no "we" but merely an "I", and in such a situation I'd probably attend Nottingham next year, in September, and then head to New School in the fall of '06. If I were merely an "I" such catastrophic debt wouldn't bother me much, and I'd have the 'freedom' to do such things that being a "we" doesn't afford. It's complicated even more by the fact that the "we" isn't just Hayley and I, but our cats, ferrets, and guinea pig (my little animal others). Of course, thinking about such things, that is speculating on what it would be like to be an "I", isn't helpful here. I don't regret getting married, though I sometimes think Hayley should regret being married to me. If she had found a better man, one who is more mentally sound than I and who has more concrete plans for a "we" future, she wouldn't have to be sharing in this angst over a decision: New York or Nottingham. So in addition to the normal problems with choosing a school, there is a feeling of guilt hanging over my head at having to drag someone along with me, someone who is far less interested in academia than I am. But, I am a we, in a very real sense. We are an assemblage, maybe an unproductive one, but an assemblage. So we are like two prostheses, connected to one another. Forced to carry the other and produce whatever it is that relationships produce.

I hope this doesn’t sound dramatic but as I see it this decision is a decision about our ontology. In a comment below Dave explains that much of his Christianity is a response to a decision his mother made. I read this, and I hope Dave will forgive me if it is insulting [Update: This isn't what Dave meant at all. I was just using this as a springboard as I rather like the fact that we have to respond to what is given to us. I apologize again to Dave as I countinue to annoy him with my poor readings.], to mean that his statement "I am a Christian theologian" is the result of a given name. Our given names, from our proper name (Dave Belcher or Anthony Paul Smith) to our common names (Christian or atheist or plumber), are ontological statements. They decide our “throwness”, thereby limiting our decisions, and they decide the past that goes into the future. Of course no ontological decision, including my own, is permanent. If I end up at Nottingham this doesn't mean that I will forever be forced to be a religious thinker and if I end up at New School I am not forever separated from the Christian tradition. However, it does decide a great deal of our future, for what we have the possibility of thinking is largely contingent on our geography. This makes me wonder, if I am at Nottingham will I be forced to decide, once and for all, if I am a Christian? Will I have to accept a transcendental reality? If I attend New School, will that mean that Hayley will be unable to have the house she wants for the family she hopes for? Or that I am further down a careerist path? Like an iceberg, I cannot see a whole host of other ontological effects that are hidden under the surface of this decision.

This conflict has been with me for a long time; it is the conflict over my given name. My name, Anthony Paul Smith, carries with it both a part of my fathers name (Craig Anthony) and my grandfather (Paul Craig): two atheists, who gave me the name of two saints and connected me, through our family name, to a tradition of producers. My mother gave me the name of Christian and also separated me, by way of relocation, from my father's name. The interplay of these given names is schizophrenic, always deferring a solid identity. I know that after we make a decision this angst will pass and the ontological possibilities that I passed over will forever be unknown as the actualities become near enough that I can’t perceive them. Still, there is and remains a certain feeling of dread hanging over the decision. It's the same feeling I have at night, when I am most anxious, listening to my heartbeat and hoping that I'll wake in the morning. Anxious because I have left so much undone and because I feel my life will not have been lived as well as it deserved to be, that I have not responded adequately to any given name.