Call Me Crazy

Definition of CRAZY

1

a :  full of cracks or flaws :  unsound <they were very crazy, wretched cabins — Charles Dickens>

b :  crooked, askew

2

a :  mad, insane <yelling like a crazy man>

b (1) :  impractical <a crazy plan> (2) :  erratic <crazydrivers>

c :  being out of the ordinary :  unusual <a taste for crazyhats>

3

a :  distracted with desire or excitement <a thrill-crazy mob>

b :  absurdly fond :  infatuated <he's crazy about the girl>

c :  passionately preoccupied :  obsessed <crazy about boats>

       (http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/crazy) 

adjective, crazier, craziest.

1.

mentally deranged; demented; insane.

2.

senseless; impractical; totally unsound:

a crazy scheme.

(http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/crazy)

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the term "crazy" lately.  Particularly after reading the Elite Daily article (posted by Huffington Post) titled, "7 Reasons Why You Should Date Someone Who's Just a Little Bit 'Crazy,'" and being called "a nut" by a guy I'd never actually met (man, he has no idea).  Would I call myself "a little bit crazy"?  Absolutely.  Would I call myself "mentally deranged" or "demented"?  Hell no.  If we look at the definitions above, there's a lot of room for interpretation when it comes to this word.  I kind of like the first one, "full of cracks or flaws."  After all, one of my favorite quotes, from James Frey's A Million Little Pieces is, "Everything has a crack in it.  That's how the light gets in."  So, really, if I'm full of cracks, I also have the potential for more light, right?  My kind of crazy is kind of a combination of "passionately precoccupied" and "senseless."  My kind of crazy comes from a tendency to feel everything very intensely.  When I love, I love hard.  When I'm sad, my whole world closes in on me.  While this intensity can manifest as passion, affection, thoughtfulness, and dedication, it can also manifest as, well, crazy.  I might curse you out and tell you to never speak to me again even though I barely know you because you frustrate me and don't seem to get me.  Or, I may clean the house in a French maid's uniform and heels, then cook you dinner, and top it off with...dessert (wink, wink) because I know it will make you happy, even if I hate cleaning and cooking.  I might cry because you haven't responded to my text in over two hours, or I might greet you with the warmest smile and hug, go anywhere you want to go, watch any movie you want to see, and tell you how amazing you are.  Has my craziness caused problems in my relationships in the past?  Yup.  Is it preventing me from finding my next relationship?  Maybe.  But, it's me.  It's who I am.  Most of the time, it's harder on me than it could possibly be for my [potential] partner.  I haven't changed in 33 years, so I doubt I ever will.  It's not about trying to change myself, it's about finding someone with his own brand of crazy that meshes well with mine.  Rather than hate myself for it, I choose to embrace the crazy.  I hope you'll join me.  ;-)

The News Today

I love fall. This is my time. Colorful leaves, hayrides, sweatshirts, pumpkin everything. But today, as the rain drowns the the beginning of the season, of my time, I sit in my Philadelphia office, above the rumbling of the subway cars, with more than a little anxiety. Instead of thinking about the myriad ways I could enjoy the upcoming sunshiney weekend, my mind is consumed with the news of an “imminent” terrorist attack on subway systems in the US. Now, every rumble below me seems louder than it used to be, every bang or screech suspicious. I could spend the rest of my fall days worrying. I could spend this season in a downward spiral of fear. But then they win, right? So I vow, instead, to enjoy my hot pumpkin spice latte (insert white-girl stereotype here) and make plans to soak in the sun and let my hair blow in the breeze. I will pray, in my way, for the safety of this country and the innocents everywhere who want no part of this, who should have no part in this. And, until peace wraps its warm arms around this earth, I will play in piles of red and orange leaves and enjoy the chill of the fall.

MISSING

Somewhere, I've lost myself
Between the smoke and the potion
Under a layer of refuse
At the edge of the rainbow
Just beside the clouds.

For the first time in my life,
I am afraid of myself
Of the part of me I didn't used to know
For the part I can no longer find
I am blinded by the sunshine lasting for days
While the shadows lurk closely behind
An omnipresent reminder
Of a silent reckless abandon.

Somewhere, I've lost myself
Behind these quiet eyes
Inside the vibrating stillness
Wrapped in false contentment
Written on an imposter's smile.

This skin isn't mine
I don't recognize that silhouette
A stranger's arms surround my spirit
But the heart is all too familiar.
The music hits my ears like a dagger
As the memories stare me down
Like the clearest hallucination
Of a long-lost dream and a broken opportunity.

Somewhere, I've lost myself
Next to the severed ties
Trapped beneath the scars
Transcending uncertainty
Just two steps from bliss.

Somewhere, I've lost myself...

Here

One small light flickers in the corner of my eye.
The safety of the shadows wraps its warm arms around me.
I hide in the solitude of this darkness,
Where I sit content and ashamed.
I could make a life of this
If only it was only mine.
This smile that I wear
Knows only the shadows,
The sun ignites a different mask.
There is a window cracked in front of me,
A gateway to another world.
I take a sip and contemplate,
And then I close the window tight.
Here, it doesn't matter.
Here, it's all the same.
Here, there's nothing but love.
Here is all I need.
It washes over me in bright shades of red,
A warmth and chill that battle each other
Until the balance is right.
I soak it in,
Like the ocean at the edge of the shore.
I close my eyes and tell myself tomorrow is a new day.
But it's always the same.

The Art of Letting Go

Anger, resentment, self-destructive thoughts, the past, expectations, the idea that you can't be anything you want to be, old love, new fear, the regretful sting of bad decisions...LET GO.

Broken promises, fractured hearts, injustice, sacrifice, the last chapter, jealousy, the piece of you in his smile, the safety of childhood, the serenity of not knowing any better...LET IT GO.

Secrets, the need for approval, failure, pennies wasted on dead wishes, control, the should haves, pity, daydreams of lost loved ones, nightmares of love never found...LET IT ALL GO.

Weakness, toxicity, people who don't matter, ideas that stifle, emotion that burns, a glaring hindsight, loneliness, comparison, the arms that used to hold you tight, judgement, the idea that you, alone, are not enough...

LET IT ALL GO, SO YOU CAN GO ON.

There's No Such Thing as a Safe Campus

Working at West Chester University, we have been told the emergency procedure in case of an active shooter on campus.  While I listened to the instructions, and wondered if I'd be able to keep a cool enough head to actually follow them, I mostly felt as though I would likely never have to deal with such a situation.  Not at West Chester.  A good school.  A safe school.  In a safe neighborhood.  However, in light of the recent shooting at Widener University, I've realized that simply isn't true.  I've heard of many other shootings on college campuses, at "good schools," but never so close to home, and I guess that's the difference.  Whether a random killing spree, or a targeted attack, anyone, anywhere, can be a victim.  This is a terrifying thought.  College campuses are supposed to be safe places for young adults to live and learn, to experience independence and growth.  Amid all of that, no one should have to watch their back for the next angry, maladjusted, violent person with a gun.  Unfortunately, there is only so much universities can do to protect their students.  While they can install metal detectors in their buildings, have security patrol the campus, and be sure to check guests in and out of residence halls, it would be impossible to monitor and control every single thing that is happening everywhere on campus.  That is the reality.  So we could choose to blame the institutions for a lack of security, for letting it happen.  Or we could take a look at the real problems, and work to instill an attitude of non-violence into our children, a timely lesson given MLK Day earlier this week. We can choose to address the red flags we see in our children's behavior, instead of ignoring them for fear of looking like a bad parent or having to deal with the stigma of mental health issues.  We can foster an environment of open discussion, rather than suppression of feelings, especially for our boys/young men.

As a university employee and student, I am a little more scared today than I was just a few days ago.  But this is not a university-specific issue.  This is happening everywhere, and all too often.  The solution starts with each and every one of us, and it's never too late to start caring, so we can all stop being scared.

We Shall Overcome

     In September, I started volunteering as a co-facilitator of a support group for high school kids in Philadelphia who have experienced the death of a loved one (typically a parent or grandparent).  I have been amazed by their willingness to share their feelings and by their support of one another.  As I hear them talk about the times they've cried, about how they care for their younger siblings, and ask each other thoughtful and genuine questions, I feel honored to be a part of their healing process, grateful that this outlet is available to them, and proud that they were brave enough to take advantage of it.  However, then I hear them talk about their anger, about fighting in school on a regular basis, about having been arrested, about friends who have been murdered, and my heart breaks.  This is the reality for so many young students in the city of Philadelphia, and it just shouldn't be that way.  I see the hearts in these kids, I see the goodness, and the authenticity.  But, it's a matter of survival sometimes.  This is what they know.
     I have passion.  I am inspired.  But how do we change the reality of a city?  How do we change something that is the result of such a large-scale problem?  How do I, someone who has lived a life of such privilege in comparison, and who has never known what it's like to feel unsafe in school or on the streets of the neighborhood in which I grew up, make them see that education matters, that they can have a bright future, but they have to be willing to fight for that instead of fighting each other?  It takes a tremendous amount of strength and courage to overcome the obstacles these kids face; to break through a reality that consists of poverty, drugs, and violence.  I just want them to know that it's possible, and that they are way more powerful than they realize.  Yes, I am the cliche...I want to make a difference.  I'm not so naive as to think that I can single-handedly change the world.  But, if I can help change the trajectory of just one kid's life, then I have at least changed his/her world.  And that is good enough for me.