I sometimes wonder what it would be like to not be able to talk. I would of course pass on notes to people. This would slow me down and most importantly, I would be a better listener. Everyone in this situation would be a better listener.

We all think that we are good listeners but few of us are. We all love to talk. Babies are good listeners, at least the ones who aren’t screaming for attention.

I think that I am going to work at being a better listener. There is great joy in hearing stories. At the same time, there is great joy in telling stories. Stories often beget stories, and it’s at the moment when one had a good one, that listening goes out the window.

I was thinking all this today when I was hanging out in the parking lot of the Eagle Hotel, talking with Matthew, a BLBP volunteer. We first started talking about this country’s absolutely shitty health care system. His stories trumped mine – he has a family and a large portion of his income is going toward health expenses.

I then asked him about his wife’s current hiring situation at Mat-Su College. Her story paralleled mine. I was not able to say much because Matthew was by now in full gear, in explaining what happened to her. My thinking was that my story seemed trivial.

Ahh, but then I maybe purposely sent Matthew off on another tangent – this was the hardship involved in working with dissertation committee members. Matthew talked about a woman who was in the field of chemistry – she spent five years working on her dissertation and because of committee related problems, never finished. I indicated I had a hard time, but I did not provide examples. I did say in a few succinct sentences what I know from my situation and those of others, which is, if you run into problems in working on your dissertation and/or don’t get it done, you will end up being damaged goods. By this I mean really bothered by the outcome.

I am damaged goods. I finished, but often I think of how I could have produced a publishable document. I failed because I believed that I had to give them (my committee members) what they wanted.

What’s most interesting (and is proof that I am damaged goods) is that I have this reoccurring dream. It’s one in which I realize that I have x number of years to get the dissertation done – you have seven years to do this – and I have yet to do this. I vow to finish. In some of these dreams I go back and talk with my committee members. In other dreams I work on coming up with a plan that centers around getting it done.

I have stopped telling Pete when I have this dream because this to him is illogical. He says to me that it isn’t true and to go back to sleep. Of course, sleep eludes me.

Next: 157. 6/10/26: The Purpose of Sleep