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Whatever rings Mel's bells

Posts Tagged ‘confusion’

Inside my brain

Have you ever looked at a person who’s studying and wondered what’s going on upstairs? Humor me, and I shall describe what I’m experiencing. Perhaps you’ll find it interesting.

I’m currently studying AC Theory. Well, I’m currently writing a blog post to get a break from studying my AC Theory. But I digress.

The topic currently giving me figurative hives is inductance. I won’t go into the details, but basically it’s the principle that makes motors and generators work. When you put a magnet and a conductor together in the right way, you can turn motion into electricity, or vice versa. Wickedly cool stuff in practice, but understanding the principles behind it has proven a bit more complex for me.

When I say complex, I really mean incomprehensible and mind-boggling. Start with a bunch of brand-new jargon. You know, words that don’t make any damn sense, but which get thrown around to refer to very specific concepts.

Then, consider that the concepts themselves are new. So not only do I not understand the words being used, I also don’t understand what they refer to. This has led to a two-step approach for me. First, I ignore the terms and figure out the concepts, then second I back up and apply the terms to the concepts that I now can understand.

This is tricky enough when I have a teacher lecturing, but today I’m doing a make-up class, so I’m on my own. Just me and the ol’ textbooks.

Yup.

So how am I doing with all this, you ask. Well, to be totally frank it isn’t going well. I’m a bit overwhelmed.

Part of my psyche is babbling incoherently, curled in the fetal position in the corner of my brain and crying its little eyes out because it doesn’t, it can’t, and it won’t ever understand. That’s right, my starting point here is that I’ve utterly lost it. (Not an exaggeration; tho I’ve developed enough self-control that I won’t ACTUALLY do this, I have a clear mental picture of exactly how it would look.)

But it doesn’t stop there folks, because there’s another part of my brain that’s calling it quits. Yes, a not-inconsequential part of my mind has thrown up its hands, yelled, “DONESKI!” to the uncaring sky, and picked up its heels as it hits the road. Done and gone and not coming back. Nope. This is BS and I have better things to do. I’ll fail the test, study for another week, and then figure it out later. Don’t even care, my give-a-damn is past repair.

The rest of my mental faculties have spent the last hour and a half idly scanning the text, trying to string together the words on the page in a way that will make some form of sense. I read the questions in the work book, turn to the text to understand them, and find that the concepts are presented in a completely different way. One book is full of square pegs, the other is populated with round holes. And I have to somehow build a saw that will cut one to fit into the other, without any experience or instructions.

What I’m saying is that it sucks a little.

It’s not insurmountable, but it takes a lot of effort. More effort than I would expect it to, in fact. Many of you know exactly how this feels; the comments field may end up populated with your similar experiences. (Please?!?) The answer is, of course, to finish this essay, shut the laptop so I’m not tempted to go to Facebook, and focus on my work. Which I will do very shortly.

So next time you see a student staring uncomprehendingly at a page, consider that seeming inactivity might mask a world of energetic (and psychotic) internal motion.

Songwriter’s block

I blog when I can’t write a song
‘Cause the words are all coming out wrong
The rhythm and rhyme
All end up out of time
And the meter in one line always seems to end up way too long for the rest of it, but I can’t seem to cut it shorter because I really want to say what’s already in there, you know? And I can never find a good way to restate it more concisely while retaining the meaning I tried to get at in the first place. So it really screws up the whole intent and the – um… Yeah.

WOWI

No really, I’m thinking wowie that really sucked!

The WOWI aka World of Work Inventory is one of the hoops I have to jump through to get into the apprenticeship program I’m pursuing.  I took it at 3 in the morning because that’s when I remembered that I had to get it done.  I don’t think taking it in the middle of the night made a difference, it was going to be silly and frustrating whenever I did it.  And I’m a night owl.

Generally I do pretty well on these things; my interests are broad so I kind of come out all over, but that’s how I am in life so I guess if nothing else at least it’s accurate.  But there’s always one section that hangs me up, and I forgot about it until I got most of the way through the WOWI and this section slapped me in the face.

Abstractions.  That section where they give you four frames, or three numbers, or a few words, and you’re supposed to guess which one comes next in the pattern.  Some are easy – if they give you the letters  B   F   J  and the options are K, N, Q, or Z, it’s pretty easy.  Each of those letters are evenly spaced, so N is the next one in the pattern.  But what happens when they give you three words that start with the letter g, with four, five, and eight letters respectively?  Or what if they show four boxes with a clear pattern emerging, but the next step in the pattern isn’t reflected in any of the possible answer?

I can find all kinds of patterns in the string, I just can’t ever seem to find the one they want!  Well, that isn’t true.  I generally get about half of them right.  But when I get them wrong, MAN do I get them wrong!  As in, totally clueless, unable to even orient myself in the right direction, can’t-reason-my-way-out-of-a-paper-bag lost.

These things make me feel really stupid.  I get that feeling that the answer is staring me right in the face, and I’m too dumb to get it.  *grr*  I don’t like that feeling.

Conventionality

I had a moment today, as I was leaving the pet store walking behind a happy couple with a toddler in their shopping cart, when I wished for a conventional life.

I wished for the normalcy of a 9-to-5-working husband and house with a white picket fence.  I wished for a moment of being like everyone else, with 2.4 kids and a dog and church on Sundays.  I wished for a firm place in the community, clear social expectations, and neatly defined behavioral roles.

For just a moment there, I really wished I could sink into apathy and mediocrity and just be part of the faceless masses.

Then I shook my head and decided I’m going on tour next summer as a solo act.  If Gumby’s not still around, I can just rehome Princess and put all my stuff in storage, you know.  Have to give up my waterfront view, but I’d get to see a lot more of the country from the road.  And I bet I’d get a whole lot of songs written, too.

Onwardo.

Healing, perhaps

I guess it’s more than perhaps, it’s more like “apparently.”

Five years, seven months, three days, one hour, and forty-nine minutes ago, the first man I truly adored was killed.  He’d come into my lonely, desperate, incomplete life, and he filled all the empty spaces that bothered me.

Then suddenly he was gone.

Being the type of person I am, I of course pulled myself up by the bootstraps and went on with life.  *sigh*  I’ll be honest with you, I don’t really know how to grieve.  I don’t know how to lose.  I don’t know how to be hurt.  I just have no idea how to do any of that.  My default reaction is to take a deep breath, consider all the good things that still exist in my life, and move the hell on.

End of story.

After all, no matter what happens in my life, no matter how awful things seem, at least I’m still breathing, right?  At least I still have my health, and my sanity (or as much of it as I ever had!), and my ability to support myself, and my loving and wonderful family and friends.  So why should I dwell on what I’ve lost?  Why should I live in the past?  Why should I cling to something or someone that’s gone?

Unfortunately, my analytic mental processes don’t actually control everything that goes on inside.  So of course, recovering from The Loss Of My Entire Life was not (shall we say) a quick or easy process.  In fact, it’s still not finished.  Not even close.

But a few weeks ago I turned a corner, and tonight I turned another one.  (Does that mean I’m headed back the way I came?  *shudder*)

I spent 28 years wishing for someone who would make me feel wanted, and loved, and worthy, and wonderful.   I didn’t have him for very long, but he was instrumental in building me up to the (apparently) confident person I am today.

I’ve spent the past 5 years knowing that I’ll never find another person like him, and I’ve been not only grieving his loss, but the loss of that love and the loss of the way the love made me feel and the hope that I’d ever feel that loved again.

Oooh, there it is.  There’s the first epiphany.  I finally came to see that what I miss most about Mike Lucas is the way I felt when we were together.  Maya Angelou said it best, you know.  I will always remember the way he made me feel.  And I know I’m not the only one – anytime he walked into a room, the whole place would light up.  Everybody knew him, everybody loved him, everybody wanted to be around him.  He was just that kind of person.  Can you blame me for wanting to feel that again?

So a few weeks ago I realized that, and I realized that – wait for it – there might be someone, somewhere out there, who someday might make me feel that good again.  Who might make me feel that wanted again.  Who might make me feel like I belong again.

It could happen.  I believe it could.

So voila, there’s some hope.  And for me, hope is like air, in that I cannot live without it.  (I almost didn’t, in fact, but that’s another story.)  I now have hope that the thirteen months and thirteen days I spent with my First Mate don’t have to be the sum total of my belonging.

Huge.

Tonight I came to another confusion, as we like to say in my family.  You see, this Saturday would have been Mike’s 44th birthday, and we were talking about how to celebrate it.  I’m thinking a family dinner and maybe a toast…  Mom suggested releasing paper lanterns with messages written on them, which I really like.

But that got me thinking about how to remember him.  And how I can keep him in my life, even though he isn’t exactly in my life any more.  I acted the ass so thoroughly when I lost him (grief makes us do stupid things) that none of his friends or family talk to me any more.  His murderer is also his widow, so she gets to keep his name till she dies, she even got a frikkin’ television show.  Yeah, what do I get?  I get to feel like I’m nothing and nobody.  Which I am not, not by a long shot!  But it does feel that way.

Tonight I realized that I can, and should, find a constructive way to remember Mike.  Maybe find a cause to help in his name, maybe create something, maybe make a new tradition.  I don’t know what, I’m still working that out.  But I realized tonight that I’ve been looking for a place to put him in my life.  And because I haven’t had a place for him, he’s been floating all over and getting in the way, so to speak.

I think I’m finally getting started with this “moving on” and “healing” stuff that people have been talking about.  Sure has taken a while…  But I guess I’m a pretty tough nut to crack on some things.

Five years, seven months, three days, two hours, and twenty-one minutes.  And counting.

I killed a bunny last night

No, really.  I was heading out to BFE Middle of Nowhere to watch the meteors, and I saw something small run across the road in front of me.  Slowed down for safety’s sake, ID’d it by the upright ears, and smiled as it continued all the way across the road.  Then I stopped smiling as the dumb critter RAN BACK ONTO THE ROAD AND RIGHT UNDER THE TIRES OF MY JEEP.

*sigh*

There was the tiniest bump as I went over it, so I stopped and turned around to see if I had really hit it, and if so if it was dead.  Not sure how I’d have put it out of its misery if it was still suffering…  But I was at least going to find out one way or the other.

Sure enough, there’s a very flat, unmoving, lump of light grey fur on the road.  It was gone by morning, of course, so perhaps I provided a coyote his dinner.

I just can’t fathom why the poor little dumb thing would run BACK onto the road, directly AT the large and noisy machine of death that it could so easily have avoided!

Opposite Day

Imagine for a moment that you are known for, almost defined by, your positive demeanor.  Imagine that you have put on a positive attitude like a coat you wear year-round.  Imagine that you fight any negative thought, that you self-talk your way out of any low point or discouraging event or setback or moment of doubt.  Imagine that you consider a positive outlook to be a basic part of who you are.

Now imagine that you look back on the last five years of your life and can see that every damned thing you’ve done is crumbling around you.  Imagine that everything you’ve set your mind to has failed.  Imagine that your very best efforts, your blood and sweat and tears and stress has gone to feed the insatiable, gaping mouth of a black hole.

Doesn’t it make sense that you’d want to run away from it all?  Doesn’t it make sense that your greatest desire would be to pack a bag and run away to join the circus?  Or maybe the Navy?  Especially if you know that the end result will be to get you into a better place, a place where you can have back the life you really wanted all along?  Wouldn’t it make a lot of sense to give up all these things (that are falling apart anyways) for a few years, in return for getting them back in spades later?

Now imagine that you’ve made the decision to take that step.  And you’ve even started to feel good about it – feel excited about it.  And you’ve accepted that you’re a failure and your best efforts aren’t good enough and you might as well throw in the towel because why would anybody want you to stay anyways?  I mean hell, nobody even reads your damned blog, so who really gives a crap?

Nobody, that’s who.

(Not completely true; my family – who I once promised I would never leave again – gives a great deal more than a crap.  But this is hyperbole, there’s not much room for the nuanced tones of reality in this post.)

Anyways (sorry about the rabbit track there), now imagine that after you’ve accepted your own worthlessness, after you’ve realized that you’re a failure and it’s time to start over, after you’ve worked yourself around to a place where you can give up the life you love and you’ve been clinging to so desperately (even though it really isn’t working), and after you’ve come to terms with the nature of the new reality you’re looking toward, then and only then do you get a hint of hope that you might actually be able to make this work.  Then and only then do people reach out with a form of help that actually meets your needs.  Then and only then do you get a sense that you’re appreciated and wanted and maybe you shouldn’t assume that leaving is actually the best option.

So what do you do now?  What do you do once you’ve turned the boat and taken the first steps in a new direction and mentally re-written your life?

How hard to you try to keep the life you really want?  How far do you pursue it, when you know that the option to leave depends on a pretty narrow window of opportunity – a window that shrinks every day – a window that you can’t even get the involved parties to define clearly for you?

How far do I push this?

Why yes, I do say “Happy Holidays”

Sure, I celebrate Christmas.  But I’m aware that quite a few people around me don’t.  In fact, It’s happened more than once that I’ve inquired about people’s Christmas plans, or how their Christmas went, then felt a bit chagrined when they reminded me that they were Jewish or pagan, and celebrated something else.

Understand, I have never once had someone think I was rude for doing that.  I mean, when you look at the demographics, it is a pretty safe assumption that most of the people you’re gonna run into in Kitsap County do celebrate Christmas.  So some people think I’m silly for catering to everyone and saying “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas.”

What they don’t get is that it’s more for me than for anyone else.  I won’t have to feel embarrassment for forgetting which religion that particular friend or acquaintance lives.

What I don’t get about the whole mess is why they think it’s okay to be rude to people who are just being friendly.  I mean, really?  When did it become okay, when a person greeted you with good tidings of cheer, to throw it back in their face because they didn’t shine a proverbial spotlight on your personal beliefs?  What the hell, people?  That person was being nice!  Show a little bit of freaking grace and smile!  Wish them a Merry Christmas back, but don’t go around like the greeting police trying to make them all say what you want them to!

I knew we were losing our sights of common manners and decency when it became socially acceptable to ignore the people right in front of you (cashier in the middle of a transaction, friend trying to converse with you, significant other when you’re on a date) in favor of cell phone conversations, Facebook, and Words With Friends.  And this is reinforcing that marked lack of expectation.

As we get closer together through artificial means like Twitter and Skype, we simultaneously are becoming more and more distant from each other in real life.  I know it’s nothing new; this was a concern with TV, with wireless phones, probably with radio, maybe even with newspapers.  I don’t know how many connectivity inventions have prompted this concern, but I know it’s been around for a long time.  In fact, that’s why the Amish don’t have phones in their homes.  Not because phones are evil, but because having them in the home would prove a disruption to a good family life.  So they have a central phone for the whole village, and you go to the phone if you want to use it.  That’s right, you stop what you’re doing, and go do one thing at a time.

I guess my point is that we’re becoming a rude society.  Not just a society where people are rude, but one where rudeness is accepted, even expected.  A society where there’s no reason to be polite.

And that, more than any other social ill I can think of, frightens me.  If we don’t have even the most basic of concern for each other that we can even look each other in the eye, how can we ever form communities?  How can we ever have good relationships?  How can we ever trust each other to uphold the social fabric?

Maybe I can’t trust my neighbor to give two shits about watching my property for potential burglars while I’m out of town.  Maybe I can’t trust my kids’ teachers not to molest them.  Maybe I can’t trust my clergy member to teach me truth.  Maybe I can’t trust my elected representatives to make decisions with the public’s interest in mind.

Oh wait…  We can’t.

Does anybody else see the big picture connection of rudeness and disrespect?  Religious right-wingers would have you believe that the only way we can save society from complete breakdown is to get on our knees and beg “God” to take over.  (Not that the massive financial gain affects their reasoning…)  Because their knowledge of good and evil comes out of a book (and because they think they have a monopoly on moral knowledge), they refuse to see that morality – knowledge of right and wrong and behavior according to an accepted code – can exist without their special book.

I’ve really gone down a rabbit track here, I know.  This whole post took a much deeper twist than I intended it to.  But can you still see my basic point?  When somebody says something nice to you (defined by them meaning it in a nice way and also by it following an acceptable social format), it is inexcusably rude for you to tell them to be exclusionary and selective.

So get off my back.  I say “Happy Holidays,” and I’m not stopping any time soon.