On Daring to Dream

There are some people that find the purest joy in life in dashing the dreams of others. Why would anyone dare to dream anymore, when someone who calls themselves a "realist", or just someone who loves belittling others, pops in to tell them why their dream will flop over and die? Or that their idea is stupid?

If there's one trait I love, it's the trait that ignores the realists and those who dash dreams, and chases that dream anyway, because now they've got someone to prove wrong. And they won't stop until they accomplish that goal.

Cases in point

My grandma told me these stories...She was going to take my two older cousins to get their ears pierced back in the day and she thought about getting a piercing herself. Grandpa says "What do you need another hole in the head for?" Guess what she got...yup. This other time, my great-grandmother (or possibly great-great, not sure) asked her husband, my great-grandfather, who was an electrician, to put a light in above the sink, as she wanted more light when working there. Great Grandpa said it wouldn't work, it couldn't be done, it'd be too difficult to cut a hole. So one day while he was at work, she took my great grandfather's tools and cut herself a nice light-sized hole in the ceiling. Upon returning home from work she said "the hole is there, now put in my light."

And that's the lesson to be learned. Don't let anybody tell you that you are incapable of doing something, or that something is 'impossible'.

"You'll never finish that puzzle."

"You can't build things, what makes you think you can build a house?"

"That's impossible"

"That's a stupid idea..."

You now have someone or some people to prove wrong. Make them eat their words.

It Couldn't Be Done

Poem by Edgar Albert Guest

I find this poem to be very fitting at this point in my life, and as my Facebook won't let me share such a long post, I'm posting it here. 

 Somebody said that it couldn't be done, 

But he with a chuckle replied

That "maybe it couldn't," but he would be one 

Who wouldn't say so till he'd tried.

So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin 

On his face. If he worried he hid it.

He started to sing as he tackled the thing 

That couldn't be done, and he did it.  

Somebody scoffed: "Oh, you'll never do that; 

At least no one ever has done it";

But he took off his coat and he took off his hat, 

And the first thing we knew he'd begun it.

With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin, 

Without any doubting or quiddit,

He started to sing as he tackled the thing 

That couldn't be done, and he did it.  

There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done, 

There are thousands to prophesy failure;

There are thousands to point out to you, one by one, 

The dangers that wait to assail you.

But just buckle in with a bit of a grin, 

Just take off your coat and go to it;

Just start to sing as you tackle the thing 

That "cannot be done," and you'll do it.

On Pedestals and Pseudo-Demagogues

As we dance the dance of life, we tend to put people up on pedestals at times. Many times though, through no fault of our own, we put people up on pedestals made of wet sand, exempli gratia, a sand castle. Stress of any kind will cause that pedestal, that sand castle, to crumble. And, as we see sometimes in sand castles, they crumble all on their own. The weak points on the pedestal are not seen until the inevitable crumbling occurs. Sometimes it's even pecked at by someone maliciously as they watch it crumble...

Sometimes the crumbling of the pedestal surprises us. We don't expect that pedestal to break. We don't expect those who have made us their people, one of them, to suddenly disperse. Sometimes one puts their entire world into one person or a few people, and prop them up on what they think is a pretty good pedestal. Sometimes these people can do no wrong, in the eyes of the person putting these people up on the pedestal. Sometimes we consider ourselves to be a pretty good judge of character.

Those are the ones that, when they break, surprise the hell out of us.

Sometimes it's heartbreaking when those pedestals break, and it feels like one's whole world is crashing down. But, as surely as the Lord lives, there is a lesson to be learned from all of it. Maybe one's sense of character was off, maybe one was manipulated, there can be numerous reasons why the pedestal was formed, and this person or people was put up so high, sometimes to the highest of heights, dwarfing so many others...those, those especially are the ones that are the most heartbreaking if they should fall.

So say you put all your eggs in one basket, and one day something happens that just crushes each and every one of those eggs to complete oblivion. Sure, you've just lost all those eggs. But look at the chickens God has provided you. Look at the rest of the pieces, look at the people who may have not been so elevated before; you are definitely not so awestruck by the one or ones whom you've place so highly.

Was it a mistake? Not necessarily. In it, you've discovered yourself, and who you want to be, and who you are. You learn, as with everything else in life. You see amidst the ashes of what has just crumbled before you, who was there through it all, and who will be there in the long run. Maybe this sort of lesson is necessary to teach us how to judge one's character and those whose lives they touch.

In my last entry I spoke of the beauty of an Aspie brain. Sure, there are parts that annoy the hell out of people, but I have found that when you find "your people", sure, they get annoyed by your quirks but yet their world is not the same without you there. That is what I am now calling being a force of nature. Sometimes we need to be reminded of just how much we touch the lives of others. We don't always see it, it's just a part of everyday life for us. But one simple word of how we've made a difference in someone's life, can mean the world to us. 

Catching Water

Just got handed some disappointing news today, got turned down for a job I'd been hoping for. And while I did get caught up in wondering why I am so undesirable to prospective employers, I also had to give Jax a bath. Nothing like chasing bubbles and trying to catch water as it comes out of the faucet to melt away whatever was bugging you that particular day. The pure look of enjoyment on his face as he scurried after those elusive bubbles...the simple joy of letting the water roll over your open palm and try to catch it as it comes out of the faucet and gathers in the bathtub...

And here I was feeling down about being rejected.

 

Dedicated to the WWWA

I am a man on what I call a "Never-ending Quest for Knowledge"...and I do mean never-ending. Any kind of knowledge, useless or otherwise; I am what some people might so eloquently call, a "knowledge whore". Secession Talk in Scotland? I want to know about it...and then on top of that I want to know of other secession movements, past or present, especially in the United States; this evolves into wanting to know how the states got their shapes, which, by they way there's a few interesting books and a TV show about...But I Digress... (see how i did that, even after 2 years? [c.f. my blog entry "But I Digress"])

The Beauty of an ADD/OCD/Aspy brain is that one gets to obsess about a different thing each day...or week...or more...depends on what the topic is and how hard one's attention span is focused on it. Usually though, at least a few times a year I will come back to that particular topic; Family History is a big perennial topic of mine, for example. Dig my use of the semi-colon with this post, huh!?

**[insert subtle segue here]**

The self-proclaimed Wicked Witch of West Allis found her dancing shoes 5 days after my birthday this year, and is dancing with Jesus as we speak. The whole thing is somewhat of a blur to me, everything happened so fast. At Midnight, I was told that she was being put on comfort measures, and that she did not have long. By 1:30, she was at the Ball meeting her dance partner. I got the call, and suddenly there was no one left standing in the hall. I never realized until just recently how pertinent Stevie Nick's words were to my life at that moment in time, and thus her song has an entirely new meaning for me. In fact I'm listening to the song as I type.

Since the inception of this blog, along with my "never-ending quest for knowledge", I have also discovered a lot about myself--overlooked facts, character traits (both good and not so good), pieces of my very essence that I'd never realized before. I've also learned to recognize my quirks, and to love them. The Idiom Idiocy, the Numbers Mysticism, The Even-Numbered Pattern Program and the like...I've learned to use them for my advantage, to become the "force of nature" it has become my mission to be.

At the Homily for my grandmother, Father Augustine had said that Grandma had a "magic knife", in that there was always enough food for everyone--and they had a family of 8 to feed at one point in time--and no one was ever in want of a need. That struck a chord with me. Since Grandma left for the dance, I've tried to emulate her, and thus I say I have a "Magic Spoon", in honor of her. I cook a lot of One-Pot meals that always leave enough for others, or for leftovers. I've definitely learned how to make just $60 of groceries stretch over two weeks, $100 stretch over four, and none of us have gone hungry, or are in want of a need. I've also learned to go back to basics...why spend $4 for a box of crackers when you can spend a fraction of that and make your own? They'll undoubtedly have less preservatives and GMOs and what have you, and really it's not that hard.

Most Moms and Grandmas, even some Dads and Grandpas, are famous for one thing. "Grandma makes the best Peanut Butter cookies, no one makes them like her..." I have recently discovered what I will most undoubtedly become "famous" for. Crackers. My children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren (if my wish of living to at least the ripe old age of 117 holds up), will know me best for my cracker making. Truly it all started with less than $2 in our checking account, and our pantry in need of some sort of snack type thing. I've become an advocate for buying local, making it myself, and with the crackers, there are so many possibilities...I knew we had flour, I figured crackers couldn't be hard to make...why pay $4 a box when you don't have to (or can't, for that matter)? Same holds true for coffee creamer and butter (although the latter almost killed my food processor).

Self-sufficiency isn't hard, and if you're hell-bent on doing it, you'll find a way to make it work. You don't have to go to all the specialty stores and buy only organic flour that was pressed and ground by an elephant's hoof and picked by 47 children in the Garden of Eden (if you go there you're bound to get wet). I may start a separate blog with my new-found Self Sufficient recipes, as well as recipes I'm dreaming up that are still in their beta stages..though with the rate I've been posting blogs, don't expect it till early 2016...I exaggerate, of course.

Love your quirks. Don't ever let anyone make you feel any less of a person for them. I am not quite to the point about not giving a flying fart what people think of me, but I'm pretty close. You have your family, and those who love you for you, really who else are you out there to impress, a bunch of fake people that are secretly judging you? Those who look down their noses at you for who you are or where you come from? You do you, and if that's not enough then there is just no pleasing them...don't ever think you need to live up to anyone else's expectations on this earth. There's only One whose example we should follow, and He happens to be my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. So I say again, love your quirks. Don't change a thing. Be You. Do You. Quirks and all. After all, you wouldn't BE you without them. Why be a carbon copy of every other Joe walking the streets where you live? Be You. Do You. Love the things that others will (undoubtedly) find "less than perfect"...after all, that's what we all are. Less Than Perfect. The One Perfect One died for all your real imperfections, so really what have you got to lose?

A Monday Evening to Remember...

So here I am, Jax is almost 9 months old, and this is the first post I am posting. People with children and full time jobs will understand, even though this was not what I had planned. But does anything ever go according to plan, especially when you have children? I am a relatively new parent yet I can already see this. That's not to say the kids haven't done blog-worthy things over the last 9 months, but I am now able to find a little time to share...

Recently the kids spent the weekend at my in-laws' house, and there they spent some time with my niece, Lily, who is 4 months older than him. Since then, Jax has picked up on the art of, well to put it bluntly, screeching. Oh yes. Hey, it could be worse. So Romann, who is 6, comes out with this: "Was I annoying like that when I was a baby?"

And all Jax has to say is "Da-da-da-da-dada.....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"

I also will be accepting Parent of the Year Award, for one of my latest pictures of Jax. For the first time, I witnessed him, as I was checking Facebook on my phone, out of the corner of my eye I see him pull himself up on the recliner, first to his knees, and then all the way to his feet. I was so proud, yet I knew I had to remain calm. I quick exited out of my Facebook App and pulled up my Camera App to take a picture, and right as the camera snapped the picture, sure enough, Jax fell backward, first to his butt and then slightly bashed his head on a small toy rattle. SMH....Father of the Year...

He hasn't let that stop him, though. When he's not incessantly Humping the floor, he's always trying to crawl towards the steps (which do go down I might add), pulling himself up on whatever object tickles his fancy...

He also likes to pretend he's little Frankie from Gabriel Iglesias' shows. He's learned how to say "Yyyyyeeeaaaaahh!" and "Yay!"

"I'm 8 months old, I'm a Baby On the Move!" - Jax...