Please, don’t jump

Life is hard: this understatement comes to my mind whenever I hear news from a friend about a tragedy in an individual’s life. There are some situations in which there appears no escape, like being trapped on the roof of a burning building. I guess you could jump off the side and end it quickly.

What would I do in an impossible situation?

I hear of a friend who has lost her job, she’s 58, single and has to stay home to care for her sick mother (who has dementia). She’s depressed and lonely, as many of us would be in such a situation.

I also learn of a colleague who has a broken family because of a husband’s mental disorder, and she is trying to keep it together. She doesn’t have control over the situation and can only grasp what she can, her kids and finances (maybe not the finances so much anymore).

So much, craziness in this life. I wish I could wave a wand and say it would all be better if they would “wait a bit longer”, but that isn’t a genuine answer. The truth is, I don’t know if a person’s situation gets better in this life. Suffering is the norm, not the exception for people.

I listen to them, more than speak, because it’s the best I can do. In general, I know my mouth can’t speak too much lest I give them something they can’t handle right away.

And that is the Truth. It comes back to the burning building. You’re trapped on the roof, the smoke is rising, darkness filling up all around. I would say, if I could, that the escape route is up.

Out Loud, Mindless

Quick lunch break. Time to blog! 

Today is data analysis day in the lab, which means that I get to sit at my computer for long periods of time, walking the fine line with carpal tunnel syndrome as I push numbers around a spreadsheet.

As it turns out, however, this is a great time to think. You turn your mind off for a while as the numbers move about the spreadsheet (and there are thousands). Then, you have iTunes running, and you can ponder the important things in life.

Things like what you’ll do this weekend when the weather gets better, maybe. Or, perhaps, topics of a deeper nature: why am I alive, and what am I supposed to do with this fleshly vessel I’m made of–though it rot away over time?

I suppose I’m doing the things I’m meant to do because I can’t envision myself doing anything else. Moving forward steadily as it were. Loving the freedom that I can question the problems I see around me; go out, spend a bit of time reading, then designing a way to test what I think is happening. I get to write, think, produce new knowledge (i.e., de novo, from nothing).

My attitude may change, as it often does with any individual. In the future, I know I will bounce around a bit in my own head with the things I want or enjoy to do. But in all seriousness, there’s something so unique about being a professional scholar.

Anyway, just thinking out loud….