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...