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...