The fear of failure vs the fear of success...which one do I have?

Have you ever thought about fear? The dictionary defines it as, "a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined."  I like the "imagined" part.  I've heard fear being described as an acronym: False Evidence Appearing Real.

So how does this emotion equate to success or failure?  I can understand the fear of failure.  No one really wants to fail.  But failure itself can be a very positive thing.  If you don't know what doesn't work, how will you know if something improves?  No one person will ever be successful all the time.  Failure is inevitable.

The fear of failure can be a positive thing as well.  If you know that your failure will lead to someone's death or injury, you will more likely be very careful and do everything in your power to not fail.  You become more detailed-oriented and your mindset will become what Gene Kranz stated, "Failure is not an option."

But learning to deal with failure takes time and learning not to fail takes practice and patience.

What about the fear of success?  Now this one has me stymied.  I'm not sure I understand why one would be afraid to succeed.  So I looked it up.  Russell Friedman states that we are familiar with failure and "The real issue is fear of success, and since we are not familiar with it, we are drawn away from it and back to what we know best, failure. It may seem odd since we covet success so much that we would veer from it just when it’s within our grasp."

Okay. That actually makes sense.  Here's more of what he says, "The issue of failure and success correlates to grief and loss in an interesting way, again by using the phrase, “In a crisis we go back to old beliefs and old behaviors.” When we experience a major loss—death,divorce, health, career—we automatically summon whatever information we have stored in our minds on how to deal with the feelings that loss provokes. The stored information we have will either be helpful or not helpful, and as such, will either lead to success or failure in how well we adapt to the loss and whether or not we know what to do to be able to complete what the loss left emotionally incomplete for us.  Success in recovering from grief is the result of small and correct action choices. But you must learn the correct choices and take them or you'll be like a hamster on a wheel going round in circles."

So what does this have to do with being a PhD?  Well...a lot, actually.

When I started my PhD program, I was riding on a high of graduating with my Masters with a really high GPA.  I was actually invited to be part of a honor society.  I had never had that before.  My sister, Lisa, was always in the honor society in high school and on Deans' lists in her undergraduate.  We graduated with our Masters together and this time, I was the one who received the honor society accolades.  I would have loved to have been in it with her, but she missed it by 0.02 grade points.

So I started my courses for my PhD but a year later, Lisa died.  I had trouble focusing and following through with class assignments.  I sought help with a grief counselor and made improvements and finished the coursework.  So what's taking me so long now?

Here's where Mr Friedman makes some sense.  Lisa finished her Masters and a year later passed away.  What happens if I finish my PhD?  No, the fear isn't real.  It's imagined.  I finished my Masters at the same time and I'm still here.  My fear of success comes from missing her in my life.  I wanted to her at my hooding.  Oh, I know she'll "be there"; but it won't be the same.

I'm not saying that there is only fear of success and not a fear of failure in there.  Cause I really don't like to fail or lose.  In fact, I'm pretty much a perfectionist when it comes to writing.  I don't want to hand anything in to my Chair that won't be accepted.

I don't think that's a fear of either success or failure...it's a fear of looking or sounding stupid...but I digress...

Understanding both fears - no matter whether one is really the other - helps me to do the small "correct action choices" that will get me past the fear.  Perhaps it is with this struggle that I will have the humility to be successful and help others be successful to.

...and a PhD means...or will mean...that I've succeeded in overcoming my fears...or at least I've had success in dealing with them...



(Fear of Failure or Fear of Success—a World of Difference
In a crisis we go back to old beliefs and old behaviors.
Published on June 21, 2012 by Russell Friedman in Broken Hearts. Retrieved from, http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/broken-hearts/201206/fear-failure-or-fear-success-world-difference)

Changing of the Guard and Commander-in-Chief: Agreeing to Disagree

First - a bit of history and knowledge:

The Old Guard 

It is considered one of the highest honors to serve as a Sentinel at the Tomb of the Unknowns. Fewer than 20 percent of all volunteers are accepted for training and of those only a fraction pass training to become full-fledged Tomb Guards. This attrition rate has made the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier Identification Badge the second least-awarded decoration of the United States Military (the first being the Army Astronaut Badge).^[19]

The soldier "walking the mat" does not wear rank insignia on his or her uniform so that they do not outrank the Unknowns, whatever their rank may have been. Non-commissioned officers (usually the Relief Commander and Assistant Relief Commanders), do wear insignia of their rank when changing the guard only. They have a separate uniform (without rank) that is worn when they actually guard the Unknowns or are "Posted".

The duties of the sentinels are not purely ceremonial. The sentinels will confront people who cross the barriers at the tomb, or are disrespectful or loud.

Now my thoughts...
I have six months left until what they call my "mandatory retirement date". It is amazing to me that I have survived thirty years serving my country. I have served under five presidents...each one, my Commander-in-Chief. I have not always agreed with what they have done or commanded the military to do, but I love my country more than I disagree with them and will die for the right of "life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" as well as the right to free speech and religion.

How many times have I heard someone say something that made my blood boil, I cannot count. I never started counting. It didn't matter because sometimes those people were my Commander-in-Chiefs, my superiors, my peers, my subordinates, even my family members. It is not important that I agree with everyone. We have the RIGHT to disagree. Not everyone can like each other. Not every one is always going to get along even if they DO like each other.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I am in no way advocating violence or hatred. On the contrary...I'm advocating peaceful change. But though I may not like what is said, I will fight to the death for the right for that person to say it. Isn't that one of the most amazing things - our first amendment right? Don't you wish other countries had it?

Just how did the United States get to be the police and clean-up crew of the world? Who knows? Perhaps it's when we had a chance to stand for something back in the 18th Century fighting for our right to be treated as people and not acquisitions of another country. Perhaps it's when we finally realized that we all bleed red blood and die no matter what the color of our skin. Maybe even perhaps it's when we saw the unjust treatment of others by people of their own country or not their own country that bullying isn't the answer. Whatever the reason, we were elected, chosen, destined to help.

I sure hope that the civil war the United States had in the 19th Century was the last one that will divide us with violence.

We have the right as citizens to choose whom we want to be our president. In four years two new people (maybe even three or four) will vie for our votes. We can fight with words...they say that the tongue is sharper than the knife and the pen is mightier than the sword. In over 200 years of our country's history, only 44 men have led; good and bad. Some longer than others. We can only hope that the person who we elect will have the dedication and tenacity to stand guard and be ready for whatever this country comes up against.

The reverence that the Old Guard has to those that fought and died for the rights and freedoms that we have today may be purely symbolic but it has some correlations to our country's presidency:
1) The guards don't wear rank so that they don't out-rank those they don't know that died for them - the president does NOT outrank the citizens of the United States.
2) They confront those who cross the barriers or are disrespectful or loud - the president should confront those countries that cross the boundaries of humanity and are disrespectful to mankind.
3) Though the guards are ceremonial, they don't stand of ceremony when they have to confront people - the president should not just be a figurehead or be politically-correct all the time and step off the pedestal when the time comes.

It does not matter whom I voted for or what policies I agree or disagree with. It only matters that I have the right and freedom to do so. I would rather you come at me with logic and facts to give an alternate way of thinking and allow me to process that and agree or disagree. BUT...I also ask that you allow me to do the same.

I love my country and I really hope that those of other nations really love their country and want to make it better and safer for their citizens as much as I do mine. I hope that you, as a citizen (if applicable) love this country as much as I do.

The guards will change to continue their watch. The presidency will change to continue to make this country the best. We will never agree on who it will be or who was the best or whether that policy was good or bad. As long as we can agree to disagree we'll be okay...cause that's life get over it!

...and a PhD means...that I learn more patience and tolerance for others...and myself...

Time In a Bottle, Calendars, and Lessons Learned

Have you ever had a time when you forgot to change the calendar to the next month? I just realized I hadn't changed this one for a month. I wonder why we do that? Is it to "stop" time? Do we really think that'll work?

Jim Croce sang about keeping time in a bottle to save every day to be able to spend that time with the loved one anytime he wished. Ultimately, he finds that there will never be enough time to spend with that one person or to do what one wants to. For all intents and purposes...that just sucks.

I look at the days now that I'm in my 50s and I want some of them back. I want to change some of the things I've said and done. Though I have done so many things and been so many incredible places, there are moments I wish I could relive and stay right there. I only have a few regrets that I try very hard to not let my thoughts and emotions get the better of me.

So I've probably piqued your curiosity, huh? Okay, I will share with you what those moments are and what I've learned from them.

One thing I would have done differently is to take a picture of my sister, Lisa, and me when she and I had an hour or so together as we walked around the zoo talking. I took pictures of animals instead. Little did I know that in two to three months she would not be with us on this earth. It was a special time for us and I put that memory in my personal "bottle" and visit it often.

I would have found just that little bit more time to spend with the one I love when we could be together; bask in the closeness and the safety of her arms. I don't know that those moments will ever happen again...and I miss it with a deep longing and a yearning to re-encounter it.

One regret is that I would have listened to my instincts and flew up the morning of 24 August. I may have had the one chance to see my sister. I live close enough but yet so far away. 

So what are the lessons that I learned from this?

I learned to not rush certain things. Get someplace early, if possible, and take in all that there is. Stay a bit after and maybe experience something so incredible. Listen to what people have to say; hang on every word. Talk to as many people as possible. Get their story. It may surprise you what you learn from them.

I have a friend that passed away a couple of days ago. I was privileged enough to be able to call her friend and have the opportunity to spend a short amount of time with her. Last year she knew she was dying of cancer. Though she hoped to stave off the inevitable, she wasn't afraid. Her courage and poise was amazing. Her she was fighting for her life and she had the grace to coach me through the understanding of death; that it is not something to fear but to embrace. Her faith in Christ was strong. Even though a few days before her death when given the news it would be soon, I cried for hours, upon the news that she too left this world, I was able to rejoice for her.

Drink in the moments that you know won't last forever. Savor every second. Know every taste, smell, feel, sound. Don't let one small thing interrupt or ruin a moment.

Laugh hard and long. Retell the things that you laugh at and don't worry if someone else doesn't "get it"...who cares? It was funny to you and that is all that matters.

Do things now. They may be chores, projects, whatever. DO them...NOW. Don't look back and think "what if" or say, "I coulda, shoulda, woulda." Television is fun but it should not be a crutch. Take a sick day off of work and just watch movies. But don't sit and watch TV when you know you should be doing something else. All that serves to do is pile guilt on and smother it with a feeling of being overwhelmed and scrambling to find the time to spend with loved ones and friends.

My friend, I trust that you have dreams, desires, and goals. Well, at least I hope you do. If there is one thing you need to let out of the bottle it would be one or all of those. Those are the things you put a mark on the calendar and aim for. Don't stop until you've achieved it. Try...try again.

...and a PhD means...I am learning about life as much as I am learning about the contents of getting my doctorate: get it done, enjoy life, enjoy people, and be in the "now".

Bent Dog-Tag, Silver Lining, and Other Rules

There are times that I feel like I am the one that knows this or that backward and forwards...which differs from the time that I feel like a complete dunce. I'm sure everyone has had both of those moments. The problem is that I seem to have a lot of them lately...sometimes one right after the other.

Take today...I'm at the library in Dennis, Massachusetts (Cape Cod) going through all the articles that I have found thus far. Then I go to the Walden Library online and search for more articles (Why? Because my Chair said that I need a minimum of 10 articles. So I'm looking and looking and looking...you get the idea...and I realize as I compare what the search has found that I have them downloaded already.

Damn I'm good! At first I felt like I was...you know "all that and a bag of chips"...THEN I realized...wait...I had them already...why didn't I use them? Well, hell! Now I just feel dumb.

Now my two friends that are with me said look at the bright side...I don't have to spend my time looking things up...just reading and writing. Now that's what friends are for.

So I sat there thinking about all the times that people have that instant feel good moment taken away. Perhaps they should look at the bright side and realize that there's a silver lining...if they can see it.

I spent my career looking for the silver lining in everything I did. Why? Because my father told me to. When he commissioned me as a Second Lieutenant in the US Army Reserves, he told me three rules:

1. They can't kill you...they can bend your dog-tags but they can't kill you.

It took me a while to figure that out...cause of course my consistent analytical mind said that they could kill me. There's a lot of things soldiers die from literally...but not metaphorically...

2. There are opportunities in life. They may be yours they may not be but you won't know unless you look at them. You can always say no, but if that opportunity passes, you won't have the ability to say yes or no to it.

I looked at a lot of opportunities in my life and I'm really glad I had that piece of advice. I had the pleasure of doing a lot things that I wouldn't have and that other people will never have the chance/opportunity to.

3. Not everything is fun. So make it fun. Find that silver lining and have fun.

Now, I must say, that this one was not hard for me to obtain at all. I knew how to have fun. I see the lighter and funnier side of life in so many things. This is not to say that there hasn't been heartache, tears, sorrow, and times I thought I'd never be happy again. But eventually even through all those times, I can look back and see some fun times.

I've only added one rule...

4. You never know until you ask.

All they can say is "no". You're no worse off then you were before. So if they say "yes" then it's just the gravy on top...another silver lining if you will.

So that's what I did with my Chapter 2 a couple of weeks ago. I handed it in to my Chair. All she can say is that it wasn't right do it again...okay...but she didn't...she said I needed more but it was a great start. Yup I felt that "all-knowing" feeling again...until I looked at all the articles and dissertations I forgot I had and didn't go through...

Oh, well...she bent my dog-tag, but there's an opportunity to do it better, and the silver lining is that it is a great start! I'm still using Dad's rules. He'd be so proud.

...and a PhD means...that rules are guidelines and life needs them for the lessons you learn...

Oh, the Insanity!

It is said that there is a fine line between insanity and genius. I wonder how one can tell which one they are. I guess if one isn't deemed a genius in the first place then perhaps one can consider them self insane. I guess I know I'm not a genius but I don't consider myself insane either. So how fine o9f a line is it?

So is sanity based on what decisions one makes or the paths they choose in life? Wow, that would probably make 90% of us insane...wouldn't you think? I mean come on...whom among us has not ever made a choice or decision or even had a thought that someone must have thought, "What were they thinking?" Oh, hey, my Mom probably thought that every day when I was a kid...and she asked me that on several occasions. I know that's probably hard to imagine...and you don't even know me, right?

Man I digress allot - maybe that makes me insane...or just clever?

I'm gay - if you've read my other posts and haven't picked up on that quite yet, then I'll save you a bit of guess-work. However, feel free to read or reread my other posts. But I digress...  So why am I telling you this? Because sometimes people think this is a choice. WHO in their right mind would choose to be gay? We're scorned, sometimes beaten or spit on, and don't even have the same rights as "straight" people that aren't married, but living together!

It's okay. At least I'm not a politician. I mean really. That is a choice. WHO in their right mind would choose to be a politician? These people have to be insane. Talk about scorned and hated; and they drive us insane as well. I have such a hard time figuring out who's telling the truth. I have not registered for either party. Why? Because, I want part of this guy's philosophy and that guy's abilities...maybe then we can have the perfect candidate.

The bad part is - we have to make a choice between the two. For some that's an easy decision. They are one party or the other - die-hard, true-blue, through-and-through. I wonder how many secretly don't like their candidate but don't want to be scorned by their loved ones or friends. For others, like me, we have to pick the lesser of the two weasels. That in itself is enough to make one go insane or "looney-toons".

Everybody makes choices in their lifetime. I hold to the thought that the majority of the people try to make good decisions for themselves and their families. I am sure that there are times that "It seemed a good idea at the time" gets spoken. Perhaps research should be done on how often each age group says that.

And here's example of a choice in some one's life that did seem like a good idea at the time: getting a PhD. No really. I obviously know this first hand. I can't tell you how many times I've questioned why I'm doing this to myself. I think this was all in a period of the past three months and I've been enrolled in this program for four years now. It's the dissertation. I'm sure of that. It's a "project" that I wouldn't sic on my worst enemy...wait...maybe we should ask the Taliban to write a thesis or dissertation about why they are motivated to do what they do and perhaps by the time they finish, they'll be just a bit less motivated. It could happen! Okay, not likely, but one can dream can't they?

So am I insane or genius? I don't know either. Don't ask those that I work for or with. I already know what they'll say. But perhaps when I'm done with my studies and the powers-to-be at Walden University say "Yea verily, you art thou a Doctor of Philosophy" I'll look back and say, "That wasn't so bad". Yeah...that's not gonna happen. So let's you and I make a pact that we try to make the best choices we can with the information we have and never use the phrase, "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

We can't be convicted for living our lives the best we can and making the best choices we can. We can only plead innocent by reason of insanity or genius.

...and a PhD means...I'm on my way to being an insane genius...?

A Pessimistically Optimistic Cynic Using "Dis"functional Words...

Everyone knows that a pessimist is so because if it turns out the way they think, they're not disappointed. Or if it turns out better than they think, then, YAY!, they are pleasantly surprised and delighted. I know a lot of people that way...and it bugs me. I want people to optimistic. Why not? It's good for you.

Me? I'm an optimist...for the most part. Really. I really always hope for the best. I know, I know...if it doesn't turn out right, then I'm disappointed. Maybe...maybe I really know what it's going to be but really hope it turns out better. 

Now, I'm not an eternal optimist. Those people are crazy. They never think that anything will turn out bad...they just never foresee that. So, yes...they get disappointed...A LOT...just saying.

I don't know that I could ever do that continually get disappointed...oh, wait...that's life! Silly me. But I don't think I'm a pessimist...I'm just...becoming cynical. What? I can't be all three? Okay, let's look at another word for cynical: skeptical, doubtful, distrustful, suspicious, disbelieving, negative, world-weary, disillusioned, pessimistic (the thesaurus said so), disenchanted, jaundiced, sardonic...you pick. I could explain why I could be any one of these. But just for argument's sake, I will only use the four "dis"-functional words.

I'll start with "dis"trustful. I don't trust any more. I want to...and sometimes do...then get "dis"appointed...a-ga-in (sorry, I keep hearing Forest Gump saying that). Besides my family (which, by the way is my "dis"claimer for this post) and some very close friends, I don't trust what people say. I don't trust I know what is real.

Next we have "dis"believing. I am a Christian. I believe that God loves me. I have a hard time believing that there is real love (please remember the "dis"claimer) beyond that. I know that there are many people who have found their true love, soulmate, partner. I believe they have and I couldn't be happier. As time goes on, I just don't believe there is that one person for me.

This is a good segue to "dis"illusioned. It is "dis"believe's friend. I think the reason I "dis"trust and "dis"believe is because I am so "dis"illusioned in what it means to be loved. And "dis"illusioned's twin is "dis"enchanted. I am so "dis"enchanted with this "falling in love" and "love at first sight" thing. I wish I could believe in it. Maybe this is Cinderella in an alternate universe.

Why am I bringing this up? Well, because a friend of mine...same friend that wrote that email I mentioned in another post told me to stop settling. Okay...that's a great idea! Wait! How will I know when the right person appears and I won't go into a "dis"functional spin? Does my heart have it in itself to even test the waters? My heart will be safe if I don't break down these walls.

Come to think about it...these are the same emotions that one goes through while writing their "dis"sertation...will you look at that? Another "dis"functional word. Well, isn't that special? I guess I'm "dis"functional in two ways. So just like love, getting a PhD is a roller coaster ride. At least with the "dis"sertation, I will know when I get it right.

So I guess I'll keep on living, writing...and yes, even loving and trusting...and who knows...maybe there really is a Santa Claus who will gift-wrap the right person for me...it could happen!

...and a PhD means...I'm learning that though the "dis"functional words are "dis"criptive...they're not necessarily truth...

The bag of chips..."off the ol' block"...

I remember the carefree times as a kid. The only worry in the world was either homework or if some girl or guy liked you. For some of us that grew up in the Vietnam War era, the added worry was whether your Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister, Uncle, etc. was going to come home. For me, it was my Dad.

I remember the reel-to-reel tapes that brought his voice home to us. His letters (which I still have) that mostly told us to be good girls (there were only 3 of the 5 of us then) for Mom. I don't remember some of the details. Like when he came home for one or two weeks on an "R&R" (rest and recuperation). But I remember one time in particular when he was leaving. I have a photo, but it's so clear in my head. I look at that photo now and I see things I didn't see as a kid; worry, tiredness...strength. That was my Mom too. Had I taken a photo of her at that same moment, I probably would see the same things.

As I grew older, there seemed to be more to worry about. And the way I saw my parents changed too. I remember the day I realized just how smart my Dad was. He had retired from the Army after 23 years and was teaching Basic and Cobol computer languages at New Hampshire College (now it's Southern New Hampshire University). I was attending Plymouth State College (now a university - PSU) and was going to be taking a computer class that next spring semester. My Dad suggested that I sit in on his classes and learn a bit before I do to get me ahead of the game. But this isn't where I realized his intelligence...it is, however, where I realized that the Dad that was so strict actually had a sense of humor...wow...

After the class one day, we went to his office to before going to get some lunch and a young student came to his door and asked for help. She said she needed to a program for something (I don't remember what) but didn't know how or where to start it. So in about five minutes, my Dad had written a basic start of a program simple enough for her to understand but complex enough to what she needed. She left happy and I sat there dumbfounded. Who was this man, and where was my Dad?

A few years earlier, Grandpop (Dad's Dad) passed away. I didn't really know him. What I remember of him was that he was always cleaning the pool, smoking cigars, down at the bar he owned, or at the Masonic lodge. It was after he died that I learned the impact he had in others' lives. He was a Merchant Marine and designed a valve that would stop the back flow of oil from spilling when the hose from the USNS tanker to the USS ships was disconnected. Wow...pretty cool. He would bring people into his home, give them food, shelter, clothing, money, whatever they needed. There was standing room only at his funeral. I wish I knew him and was able to capture more stories from him before he died.

I've wished that with my one of my four sisters too. I can remember the times, though, when I realized how smart each of my sisters were in their own right. All of them are mothers and they are wonderful at that. It was the moment when I realized they were "Rock Stars" at what they did.

Karen, three years my senior, was a great business mind. She was managing a women's clothing store that was really three stores side-by-side. I watched her interact with her employees and her customers. She had been recognized for having the best sales time-after-time. Even now as she's built her insurance business up. Rock Star!

Gretchen is nine years my junior. I remember when she was born. I was there when her oldest child, Jake, was born. For her, it was when she got her new job after being laid off for seven or nine months. It was something about her - confidence maybe - that just said, "this woman knows what she's doing and knows that she knows."Definitely a Rock Star.

Ginger is the youngest of us (11 years younger than me). She has been working for and/or managing the bookstores at Salem State College for years and now is a Regional Manager for the University of Massachusetts. Her moment for me was when she gave our nephew (Karen's son, Steve) a job for the second time. Her influence on him and her belief in him showed me how she was with her other employees. I've never been to her bookstores. I don't need to. Rock Star all the way.

I left my "twin" for last. She's not really my twin, but we looked so much alike that many thought we were. Lisa, is a year and a half older than I. She passed away almost three years ago. There's actually two times that I saw the Rock Star in her. The first was when she came to DC for a conference with some of her office people. We met up and had dinner. How she interacted with them - they hung on her every word. She loved and respected them and they her. The second time was at her wake and her funeral. She had over 1000 people at her wake to pay their respects. The great percentage were because of who she was to them. For thirteen years she worked in the financial aid office of SNHU and was the Director of Financial Aid at Granite State College for a year before she passed away. At her passing was when people seemed to come out of the woodwork to tell of what she did for them. I was stunned. I had not known all she had done.

Karen talked about "the dash". It's the hyphen between the year of birth and the year of death. It's so small on a tombstone...but for my Grandfather and my sister, that little line was magnanimous. They were Rock Stars. How could I not know this about them?

I don't want to be remiss and not mention my Mom cause she's been a Rock Star herself...and a "rock" for all of us. Not to say that my sister's passing didn't shake that rock but it didn't come loose from the foundation.

So looking at it, my Dad was a chip off my grandfather's block and we're all chips off our Dad's block. Well, at least I hope I am. It took me many years before I knew what I wanted to do when I grew up...which is probably why I didn't grow up for many years...but I digress...But it wasn't until Lisa's death that I knew what I was going to do with my PhD. I wanted it originally so I could teach at the university level. Know it's more than that. Lisa gave of herself and would not stop until she had an answer for someone or a way to help them. In that light, I am going to find out why we are still in the dark ages in diagnosing and treating blood clots. There's more to it, but that's for another blog.

I want to be a Rock Star too. I'll retire from the Army Reserves after 30 years at the same rank as my Dad and about the same time period I will be getting my PhD. Not to be a Rock Star but to make a difference in someone's life. I wonder if I pick up all the chips from off the blocks how full the bag will be.

...and a PhD means...that I'm going be that "Rock Star" someday cause I'm already a "chip off the ol' block"...

I AM - I said...

I sit here staring at my paper...Chapter 2 of my dissertation. I feel like it's not quite there. All these thoughts are running through my head but I can't seems to write that fast. I've written an outline and literally revamped it 10-15 times yet I still can't seem to shake the feeling that it's not right. But I do know that it's close. Why can't it go from head to hand?

We are taught at an early age to improve our "hand-eye-coordination". We are told to "think". We are told to be observant. We are told to go for our dreams.

Where then, does the fear of failure come from? Why are we so afraid to go for it and so what if we fail?

I have been through so much in my life. I was told by counselors, therapists, etc., to journal. I've always been a writer. I've always loved to write. Sometimes cryptically. Sometimes straight forward (hence this blog, duh). But I love words. I do what is known as free-writing. Musicians do it. They just play music. Not a song that has a beginning and an end...just what comes out of them. I do that sometimes on my guitar or my drums. I don't play for people. I play for myself. I do write songs with lyrics. Not many people have heard them. I'm afraid they won't like them. I do the same with my writing. I do have a website that I put some on (which I shamelessly put here: http://leesongs.net)...just in case someone stumbles across it. Then anonymously if they like it, nice. If not, then I'm not hurt by rejection.

Oh...wait! There's that word!

But that's it!! "Rejection"! That's the fear's name!

WHY DO WE CARE what other people think? Why do we care if we wear the "right" clothes? Does it really matter? Who we are inside is all that matters. How we act - how we treat others is what's important. Do you really care what I wear as you read this? Do you really care how I treat others? You'd better! I've been rejected by worse. Yet I fall into that trap of worrying how people see me.

I have a friend that retired from the Army a couple of years ago. In the service he was a Chaplain's Assistant. He was good at his job. He is also gay. This was before the repeal of DADT (Don't Ask Don't Tell). After he retired he slowly became himself. He always dresses like a gentleman but he's relaxed and different somehow. And it's so great to see him BE himself. He doesn't care what others think and he still works with a lot of the same people that knew him when he was in uniform.

My boss is a woman. In her life, she's had to be aggressive to be able to be where she is today. She doesn't care if she's not liked. She treats people nicely and manages with fairness. Not many people (like maybe two) I talk to don't sing her praises. But that's not what she's after. It's the mission. I know in my life I haven't haven't been so aggressive until know. I, like my Army friend, am becoming more comfortable with who I am and that includes what I wear.

So I'm taking a lesson from life, my boss, and my friend...screw rejection! Get it done. I know I can write. I need to just focus on the mission. I need to be that person that I know I am.

...and a PhD means...that there's a purpose in my life that I have to better define, do my best, and don't sweat the small stuff...

No logic in senselessness...stop trying...

I will never understand people. I will never understand killing another person because one is mad at them or disagrees with them or whatever. I am in the military. The Army Reserves to be exact. I have carried a weapon. I have pointed a loaded weapon at someone. I made a choice not to shoot though I had full right and, by regulation and oath, I should have. I was commended and reprimanded at the same time. I'd like to think that the young Italian helicopter pilot was happy that I was behind the trigger and at the helm of the Italian and American security guards.


That was 27 years ago when I was 26 years old and a Butterbar (aka 2nd Lieutenant). I have one year left in the military. I will miss it. Not because I can't carry a weapon anymore...because I can. I have a concealed license permit in two states. But I don't carry it unless I go hiking, camping, or somewhere I've never been and alone. I didn't get the permit because I'm psychotic. I'm a female and I was living alone. Yes, I am aware of my surroundings but I'm not stupid. But I digress...


There have been a lot of morons, idiots, deranged psychotics, that have been military or former military.  They are far and few between. The media doesn't make it seem so. The sensationalizing of anybody doing anything wrong makes one think that there are only a handful of people in America that are good and the rest are not to be trusted. But really...can we think about this for a minute?


If you look at the people that were in the theater in Colorado, there were quite a few military members that did heroic things (e.g. pushing their friends down to protect them, jumping in front of them to take the full impact of the bullets). There were other non-military members that did the same (e.g. giving medical care while they were wounded as well). There were a group of people that were standing at the front of theater after the shooting occurred waiting to pounce on the suspect if he came running through.


We don't need to make laws that stifle those that do right. We need to make laws and policies that make sense and allow those that do right to do it better. We have tried to outlaw guns - or rather certain types. What about knives? People are killed with knives too. What about students? Three of the most notorious massacres of late either were at a school and/or were performed by a student. Are we going to outlaw going to school to learn?


Oh, my GOD!! I'm a PhD student! I'm in the military!! I own a gun!! Oh, get a grip!!!


It's not the movies. It's not the video games. It's not learning to drive. It's not reading books. It's not owning a gun. It's not being in the military. It's not alcohol. It's not gambling. It's not being in the Boy Scouts or Girl Scouts. It's not being a student. It's just not anything but the person...just that.


I believe in people. I don't understand them. But I believe in them. There are GOOD people in this world. There are bad people in this world too. But I am an eternal optimist. Good overcomes bad and there's more good than bad.


HEY!! I have an idea!!!! Let's learn courtesy!! You know...a "please" - a "thank you" - an "excuse me" - a "no, you first" - a smile - a warm handshake - a hug - an "I'm sorry" or an "I apologize" - or something like that - goes a long way. 


Lucy van Pelt (yes...the Peanuts character...what, you didn't know she had a last name?) once said, "I love mankind. It's people I can't stand". There's some truth in that. We are mankind; made, created, evolved (if you believe the last one) in God's image. To quote the song, "God is great; beer is good; and people are crazy". That about sums it up.


...and a PhD means...that I'm like everyone else...I too ask "Why?"...

The risk of pulling the bandaid off a heart...

"Life is full of risks, that is why they make band aides - without skinned knees we would never have learned to run, or ride a bike. But we did, and we have scars to prove it but we did it.....same with our hearts. Scars just prove that we know how to love and we know how to heal and get ready for the next one."

A friend of mine told me that the other day in an email. He's a sweet guy. But as much sense that it makes, I ask you - why would someone intentionally put themselves out there to get hurt? I mean...hurting sucks! Then it scabs up and you pick it off...oh, come on...I know you've done that. But seriously, whether it's a physical injury, mental injury, or emotional injury hurting is not a pleasant feeling.

Do you even remember the scrapes and scraps you got into as a kid? I don't. I know got them...but the pain subsides. It isn't until we get older, it seems, that we can't dispell the memory of pain. It could be the intensity of the pain that makes us remember. I had so many bumps, bruises, scrapes, and scratches as a kid that I can't really remember all of them...but I remember the doozies! Grant it, some of them I remember with better clarity than others. Like when I fell and cut the gum above my front tooth. I wore my cowboy boots even though Mom told me not to. I did have fun grossing out the boys. Man they were wimps in the fifth grade! And of course I remember the pain when I broke my femur in the car accident in Italy. Funny...I grossed out the guys in my unit when I showed them the "K-Nail" that they had put in my leg...of course it was after the doctors removed it a year later. Seems guys aren't always as tough as they make themselves out to be. But are any of us?


I think as I grow older and know that things aren't what I want it to be, I become less able - or maybe it's willing - to take the bumps and bruises of life. I already have a bunch of bandaids on my heart. I really don't want any more. Is it really too much to ask to have someone: want to stand by me; stand up for me; fight for me; not yell at me; ask me if I'm ok if I fall/trip/stumble instead of giving me a disgusted look? Is this really too much to ask?


I've put a bandaid on my heart with duct tape. You know - that 100-mile-an-hour stuff. I don't want to pull it off until I know it's the right person...okay...no more "pronouns"...the right woman. But trust is an elusive emotion. How do I trust when that trust has been broken? How do they trust me if I don't let myself trust them?


I have two friends that are working on their PhDs as well. We met at our last residency for our Public Policy and Administration Program through Walden University. We've been Skyping every Wednesday since. They have helped me through my personal problems and getting my prospectus and now my chapters written. I trust them. I know I could give either or both of them my entire life savings and get it back when I ask. Is it possible to trust in one way and not another? Cause I trust a couple of other people with things and even my life, but not my heart. Is it logical to love and trust someone that may never be able to reciprocate? Cause there is only one person that I know of that I will rip the duct taped bandaid off my heart for.


Skinned knees - scraped elbows - jammed fingers and thumbs...all of these will heal. The heart may not be so resilient. I wonder if it's a learned behavior...can I make myself part of my own research question?


...and a PhD means...to learn...at a scarred arm's distance...

Back to the Basics of Delayed Gratification

One of the most interesting epiphanies in life is to realize you've got too much stuff (I was going to say "shit" but I didn't want to offend anyone). Or you bought something really cool and thought "THIS is going to save me time and heartache" to find out you're better off with the more simple approach or the basic tool. Now don't get your hopes up in thinking I'm going to stop posting blogs. That's not quite where I was going with this.


About 15 or so years ago, my then partner, taught me how to talk myself out of things I didn't "need" right then. I was living paycheck to paycheck anyhow so it wasn't like it was a difficult lesson. But some of those "needs" were really "wants". I "needed" that electric guitar. REALLY! What I REALLY wanted was to stop the little bit of extra cash from burning a hole in my pocket. It's not like I've never played my electric guitar but I keep going back to my oldie-but-goodie guitar that my Mom and Dad gave me when I graduated from high school. So now I have five guitars that I "play" and two guitars that hang on the wall...cause they're special. And still I gravitate to the "one".


So I started looking at things that I've acquired and have not really used - or have used and not really gotten the hang of. Some have just down-right lost their usefulness. Yet with some, I can't quite bring myself to give them away or somehow dispose of them. I've been thinking about gifting some. Some things I'm going to wait until I finish my PhD and see if I pick them back up. Hence, the "delayed gratification".


But there is one thing I bought a few years ago, a Livescribe Pen, that was useful for a time but when I got stuck, mentally, I went back to the basics. It's a funny thing that when you feel comfortable with your environment you excel. Part of that comfort was picking up a pencil and plain paper and just writing.


In the move The Abyss, Ed Harris' character had to go into, well, the abyss. But he had to "breath" this fluid that was like embryonic fluid. He was told that his body would "remember" and he would be able to "breathe" easier in the deep waters and his body wouldn't explode...or something like that. Now he went a bit further back - birthing canal back - than I'm willing to go.


But how simple and free is the basic needs that we have now? We need to work, play, eat, use the litter box, laugh, and love. Do we need all the contraptions in life to do those things? Don't get me wrong - I LUV my iPhone, my iPad, my iPod...I just realized those are very "me" centric...but it's the extraneous stuff. I'm not feeling gratified with them. Do I really need to by that sweatshirt? Do I really need to buy something because it's on sale or I have a coupon? Heck, electronics are out of date when you walk out of the store.


I have realized too that as I spend time working on my dissertation, I don't spend money...as much. Reigning in my wants to really be "I don't needs" is going back to the basics of talking myself out of something I know I can do without. Spending time with others will do the same thing. Turning off the TV and not being bombarded with the ads - "GET THIS!" - "BUY THAT!" I miss playing my guitar - I miss doing cross-stitch (oh, don't be so surprised) - but I really do NEED to focus on my degree  and writing my dissertation. Once I finish that - I'm free to revisit all those things I've had to set aside. I can't wait! In the meantime, I'm going back to the basics.


...and a PhD means...I'll tell you THAT in about a year!

It's Monday...and It starts...

Wow...today was really a Monday - as Mondays go. I planned to be in the office early. I had a eye appointment this afternoon but it's also the staff meeting day. I was up. I was ready. I was at the Metro early...and that's where it went a wee bit awry.


As I was walking to the train, I called into the local radio station, WMZQ to talk to the DJ. I was a bit irritated - miffed - okay pissed that they were taking a pot-shot at someone who happens to be a friend of mine. They had me on hold but there was train to catch. So I hung up. (The full story is for another time.) To make a long story short. I emailed the DJ, Boxer, and both my friend and I will be on a call with him tomorrow (Tuesday, 7/10/2012) morning at 0742. Now I've never been on a radio show before. I've never even called in to win tickets...okay, I tried once. Now how cool is that?


Then comes the actual train ride. Now you have to understand that the Washington Metro Transit Authority a few years back made all their personnel take customer service training and for the most part, it has helped. We actually know what the situations are, why we stopped in the tunnel, or, as it happened this morning, why we didn't go anywhere. I have to say though, that it was quite humorous that every three to five minutes the engineer came over the speaker and said that there was a train at the Pentagon Station that was being recovered and we would be moving momentarily. See, momentarily means a time frame shorter than 30 minutes; but somehow they thought that telling us every three to five minutes fills that criteria. So what would have taken a half hour to get from point A to point B...took 1 h o u r - 3 5 minutes...so much for being there early. I did make the staff meeting which is really good since I'm the Executive Officer of the Principle Staff Member that is holding the meeting...just saying...


From there, the day goes somewhat swimmingly. I leave early for my eye appointment to find out that they put it down for 1430 (2:30 pm for the muggles) and not 1700 (5:00 pm) that we had conversed about two weeks prior. They squeezed me in. Good thing. My eyesight is worse. I'm testing out some very different contacts. A bit odd...must...keep...both eyes...open...(sorry, had Captain Kirk's voice in my head when I decided to type that).


But now I realize...there's a lesson here. I'm writing my Chapter 1 and I have to describe the limitations (things I can't control) and delimitations (things I can control)...So the day's limitations are what other people say, metro trains that don't go anywhere, and my eyesight. The day's delimitations are talking to Boxer and my friend, and showing up to my eye appointment anyhow.


Hmmmm...Monday wasn't so bad after all...


...and a PhD means...I can be taught?...

Creative Avoidance Logic

You must be thinking...what does she have to say now? I always think that. Well, whatever it is - it's interesting to some and significant to one...me.


Back in 1983-84 I attended the Defense Language Institute (DLI) to learn Italian, but I learned another skill as well. I was to be stationed at an US Army and Italian Air Force Nike Hercules missile site (which is another story). Learning a language wasn't easy for me.


The story actually starts back in 1974-75 in my 9th grade year at Tutt Junior High School in Augusta, Georgia. I had my choice of taking French, Spanish, or Latin. I chose French...and I have no recollection why. I made due. Not the best grades. In fact - okay, if you heard this story before skip down to where you don't know the punch line - my Dad asked me one evening at dinner, "How can you remember all these jokes but you can't remember your French words?" I told him, "Talent". Now kids, I don't recommend that if you don't want to be scolded. But it's true I'm a natural comedian...at least I think so.


Of course you can't just take one year of a language so in 10th grade at Teheran America School, in Teheran, Iran (yes, you read that right), I took my second year under the tutelage of Ms Mallard. Now if you hold your nose and say the name it'll sound French. Or, if you're like me, you just pronounce it like the duck. I really did feel sorry for this teacher. She did her best. At the end of the year, she gave me an offer I couldn't refuse - she would pass me, all be it with a "D", if I agreed not to return to her class the next year. Now, who can refuse something like that?


So you see, it isn't in my make-up to learn a new language. But God having a real good sense of humor, directs my life and I end up at DLI. I am now getting paid by the Army to sit in a classroom for six months, five days a week, eight hours a day to learn Italian. Can you say excruciating? This is where I learned a new skill...or maybe I just perfected it. It's called "creative avoidance". Now that I think about it, I learned it back in Junior High and wrote a paper on it: How to Clean Your Room Without Really Doing It. I got an "A" but my Mom no longer allowed me to close my door when I "cleaned" my room...go figure...


So, you ask, what is this "creative avoidance"? Well, it's this...my posting on my blog...going out to get a haircut...just finding something else to do than what really needs to be done. Why? Because I'm at an impasse in my writing my Chapters 1 and 2 of my dissertation. Chapter 1 is 95% done and Chapter 2 is 75% done and I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. Ever feel that? You know you're doing a great job but afraid if you hand it in you'll fail. With all my learning and being soooo close to getting the first three chapters done (which is the dissertation proposal)...I'm afraid of failing.


I didn't say it makes senses or it's logical...it just is. Failing is the one fear that many can empathize with. I really do need my haircut though...


...and a PhD means...yup...I'm still working on that...

The Beginning of the Middle of the Story

My first blog (yay me!)...well, because I have things I want to say. I was going to try writing in a journal but I got to thinking (it happens now and then)...maybe somebody will actually want to read what I have to say or maybe it will help someone to read it.


So...uh...well that's funny...I had all these things in my head and when it came time to start typing...blank... Kind of like going to a doctor. You get there then you realize those symptoms left. It's more like "Where do I start?" than "What do I write about?". Someone (cause I can't remember who it was) once said that if you want to be a writer, just start writing.


So here's my first one...


I'm working on my PhD in Public Policy and Administration with a specialty of Public Management and Leadership. I'm telling you, don't start it if you can't finish it. It is not for the faint of heart. You have to want it bad to do something like this. I did want it bad at one point. I wanted my PhD to be able to teach at the college/university level. Then my sister, Lisa, died. My whole world was thrown off. My family's worlds were thrown about. I wanted answers. Why did she die? Well, I know the text book answer of why she died - blood clots. But why?


I had a hip replacement back in 2003 (at the age of 43 if you must know) and they put me on a blood thinner. But after Lisa broke her leg and they put a plate and screws in, she was on a blood thinner for one day.        That's it? One day? And 43 days later she dies of blood clots. It tears me up inside.


My sister was an amazing person. She was the Director of Financial Aid at Granite State College in New Hampshire. She had only been there a year. Previous to that, she worked in the Financial Aid Office at Southern New Hampshire University. She was a rock star there. She went to bat for every student that needed help...all that she could. She looked for legal ways to get around the things that impeded those that needed financial help to stay in school. She had a heart that reached out to everyone. And with all that, she took care of her family. I found out about some of her work accomplishments after she died. If you ever look at a person's marker - they have the year of birth, a dash, and the year they died. It's that dash that she made so magnanamous that sometimes I feel I pale in comparison (I know, I know...I'm not supposed to do that).


I know one thing - she would not want her death to not be for something. My life's focus has changed. Oh, I still want to teach...but I want to find answers. I want to find better ways of doing things - with common sense (a topic for another time). I want to take the lessons of Lisa's death coupled with what I had to go through medically - and find practical answers. I want my dash to be of some help.


...and a PhD means...well...I'm working on that...