Hubris

It must have been some time in high school English that I first heard the word hubris.  I've always found it to be an interesting concept.  The lame Merriam-Webster online dictionary gives it the oversimplified definition "exaggerated pride or self-confidence," but I've always attached a slightly more nuanced meaning to it-- that hubris is a special kind of pride, pride that is ultimately destructive because the individual who indulges in it overreaches his or her limits.  In fact, Wikipedia backs me up on this: "Hubris often indicates a loss of contact with reality and an overestimation of one's own competence or capabilities."

Hubris intrigued me in part because of the stories and literature associated with it.  As it turns out, a lot of it is Romantic-period stuff; the Romantics either produced it or fixated on earlier literature that exhibited it.  (I myself am fascinated by the whole Romantic creative period.)  The Romantics really thought Milton's Satan was fascinating, Satan being the classic example of exaggerated pride leading to destruction; or in his case, the more apt word would be perdition.  They also liked the Greek myth of Prometheus stealing fire from the Gods to give to humankind.  See, Prometheus just wanted to do us a favor, so he reached beyond the human sphere of capability and gave us a great secret.  But he also paid for it by getting his liver eaten every day by eagle-form Zeus.  Inspired by the story of the classical Prometheus, the Romantics (Mary Shelley) produced their own "modern Prometheus," otherwise known as Dr. Frankenstein.  Try to steal fire from the gods (i.e. overreach your ethical bounds) and you'll get burned.  Or rather, in Frankenstein's case, you'll freeze into an ice block at the north pole.

Cold.

See, the Romantics thought that hubris was such an interesting topic that they kind of made it one of the defining qualities of their own special brand of hero/protagonist.  But it's the type of trait you want to avoid in the end.  Either you end up banned from heaven forever, or you get chained to a rock and have a nasty bird eat your liver forever, or you go to the Arctic and die.  It certainly helps make a story a little more interesting.  But it's one of those things you don't want to emulate.

I got to thinking about hubris again for two reasons.  First off, I got a Kindle for my birthday, and its main utility has been to grant me access to public domain books that are totally free in electronic form.  Thus it has enabled my long put-off reading of Mikhail Lermontov's A Hero of Our Time.  It's a shortish book that purposefully delves into the character of an anti-hero, a Byronic man, a hero, if you will.  You could easily say that hubris brings the main character Pechorin down too, although other Romantic ideas are more fully explored.  Pechorin is basically a jerk who's really smart, is world-weary without ever really doing anything, and gets bored and dissatisfied with life really easily.  He just thinks that he's better than everybody else, kind of exists on a different plane.  His overweening pride keeps him from being happy.  That's how hubris comes back to bite him.

Lermontov's portrait.  What a hero.

The other thing that got me thinking about hubris?  Graduate school.

Yes, sorry to bring things down a few notches from the sublime and otherworldly to the dull and mundane.  But I really have been feeling recently that I'm guilty of hubris to some degree in this regard.  Mostly, in the whole "loss of contact with reality and an overestimation of one's own competence or capabilities" sense.

Graduate school application times started happening last fall.  I had just decided that there was no way I could get myself started with a meaningful career (meaningful=job that I don't hate) that paid me enough to bring financial security to a (future) family without a degree.  To get a real job you either have to have job experience or a master's.  Since the whole experience thing just drags you along in an epic cycle of frustration (to get a job, you need experience... to get experience you need a job... hmmm), I settled on the goal of going back to school to get an advanced degree.  The idea was to keep moving forward... unemployment/temping just didn't seem like progress.

Everything seemed to work out.  I found some great programs that I really liked.  Better yet, they were at cool prestigious schools that are close -- Georgetown, George Washington, and then I threw in UVA as a "cheap option."  I figured UVA would be the budget choice, but I didn't put a ton of thought into what it would mean to move to Charlottesville, VA for two years.  Also, I didn't really think that hard about money. I mean, I would go into debt.  Cool.  Everybody does that.

I got into all three schools, which, for a while, seemed kind of like the only victory needed.  But then the financial aid letters started coming in, and I started doing the math.  A two-year degree at Georgetown costs, including both tuition and indirect costs (living expenses, etc), $120,000.  Now, I actually have yet to hear back from Georgetown about their conditional offer of either a scholarship, a fellowship, or a graduate assistantship -- but they did tell me that I'd been approved for something like $60,000 to cover all anticipated costs for my first year of school with them.  So technically the money's there.  But none of it is mine, none of it is free, and all of it would have to be paid back.  And it's not like I'm looking at a promising career in the medical business to help pay back those loans.  No, I'm actually not 100% sure I would even find employment after I finished my degree, let alone find something lucrative.  The State Department has good benefits, but they don't pay that much.

What was I thinking when I applied to these ridiculously expensive schools???  I can't believe I actually thought that they were a viable option for me.

George Washington University for its part has offered me $20,000 of free money, but that only barely helps to defray the total cost.  And UVA... my "budget option," now that I'm looking into it, would still leave me tens of thousands of dollars in debt.  I'm not going to lie, looking at those numbers gives me a sinking feeling.  You know.  That knot in your stomach that just twists and pulls and makes you stare off into space, brow furrowed and eyes unfocused.  I'm feeling more and more like I've been a well-meaning but prideful idiot, like Prometheus.  Sure, the knowledge and experience and networking that these prestigious schools have to offer may seem as enticing as secret fire from the gods, but is it really worth having my liver ripped out every day for the rest of my life (i.e. paying back up to $120,000 in student loans increasing at an interest rate of seven percent per year)?

Grad school...  so Promethean.

That rude bird would be punishing me by pecking at me and stepping on my face for years to come.  I will be completely honest.  I don't know if I want to go through with it.  I have exactly one month to figure things out and respond.  Beware of hubris, my friends.


p.s. - the soundtrack  to me writing this blog post was this song on repeat.