All in Time Due ((Part 1))

So, I realized that I was giving too much time, energy, and thought to my detractors. As such, let me break from this trend for at least a day and write about something else. Let me write about how I spent a large majority of my life getting a PhD. Oh yeah, I have a doctoral degree in Mathematics with a Concentration in Statistics. In actual terms, this means that I have a terminal degree in theoretical statistics. Of course, one does not get to that level of academic torture so easily. Nor quickly. At least it wasn’t quickly for me. And not because of the math, but because of my own issues with insecurity, inadequacy, and some other word that starts with an “I”. Do I put the comma IN the quote? “I.” don’t know. And probably shouldn’t ever know.

The Bachelor’s, Life.

Let me begin with University, Life. I did go to community college for a few years, but that’s not really when I got serious about anything, except BMX, bands, and “chicks.” Let me begin with a route so mundane and boring that it’s a wonder that I have remained so weird. To wit, and in notice this morning, it dawned on me that I have kept about the same level of weird my whole life. Of course, when one does this, they become weirder and weirder, as we’re expected to make more sense as we age. Either way, The Bachelor’s.

My lengthy partake in graduate-level mathematics came almost accidentally. I was sitting in Psychology courses in undergrad, waiting for everything to get harder than it ever did. So, I switched to mathematics/statistics sometime in undergrad. Around the end of my Bachelor’s in Psychology, I started taking math classes more seriously. This included the completion-acing of nine separate math-stat courses that were definitely not required for my current degree. I wasn’t in pursuit of anything, major or minor, in math. I just wanted to learn the stuff.

I still do.

These courses included the Calculus sequence, beginning from Pre-Calc; which I took with Lauren, who was at first doing much better than me. At some point, though, something clicked, and I started actually getting math. The stuff started to make sense, in spite of my having spent most of my life avoiding it all. By the end of that particular course, I was (in my opinion) doing better than Lauren. By this I mean: based on my mathematical background, which was far weaker than hers. She went to a good high school, had good parents. I dropped out in the 9th grade and had the worst parents. So, like I said, I was probably doing better.

Either way, not everything in life should be viewed as a race. If I win, you can too. Especially if we work together. We should all, therefore, work together.

Oh yeah, and this impromptu string of math classes included also Differential Equations, Computational Statistics, and Upper-Level Probability Theory; all courses I went on to teach in grad school, eventually. How cool. By the end of my Bachelor’s I was ready to study math. I knew I could do it. Call it knack.

Between graduation and my next degree, I applied to many jobs, read too many books, and dated said Lauren. Tampa was nice to us, in retrospect. This, I recall, as a time of learning and trying. Of following Expected Paths.

It was good. And will always be good.

So, I took the academic bait.

Master of None, Statistics.

As I worked my way through life between undergrad and what came next, I landed a job at the James A. Haley VA. I worked with Paula Chapman, doing project management and data management. Eventually, they had me conducting statistical analyses. For papers, peer-reviewed. This is where I worked as I began (and finished) my Masters of-in Statistics. Go Bulls.

Since this is all starting to sound like a resume, let me break for a moment.

[INSERT ACTUAL BREAK]

Alright, so, the Masters was awesome. This is a time that I recall quite fondly. This is where I became friends with THE GROUP. Which is to say a group of “chicks” taking the same courses as me. Now that is HOT! Women in STEM, doing better than women have historically been ALLOWED to do. Be careful, dude. Remember: you’re a target.

Either way, I made lots of friends during this time, kept a steady stream of girlfriends. It was cool. I worked hard too. I got REALLY good grades the whole time, even following a breakup that led me to take an A- in Linear Models. This was my lowest grade in grad school. And all because I couldn’t modulate my emotional responses to things back then. I hadn’t really learned much emotionally by this point. Call it a lack of EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE.

Still, I lack.

Oh, and that breakup was NOT with Lauren.

Now, if I had stopped going to school here, I would have probably started teaching a full decade earlier. But, life is not always so efficient.

Certainly not as efficient as the STORE MANAGER position being advertised via QR codes in the bathroom here. Manage, those who manage sneakers.

And so, after a project concerning the creation of a novel epidemiological model for disease growth, with the lovingly irascible Gan Ladde, I graduated. Still to this day, he’s one of my favorite people of all time. What a great man. But, yeah, after that project I was granted a Master’s of Statistics by the University of South Florida. Here I was, an uber-early high-school drop-out, getting a degree higher, in something hard AF.

Around that time, this time that I got that degree, my job(s) at the VA ran out of funding. I had grown a bit tired of working there, so all wasn’t bad in my leaving. I still recall Paula fondly, but we were too alike for me to stick around. One bull, two bulls. Two bulls in a china closet. China-closet-cool.

Whatever.

And, by the way, and even to this day: Paula is one of my favorite lesbian(s). But, no need to worry; I’m not outing her. She married a woman at some point, and that’s cool as hell. Because: I like when society takes turns for the liberation of persons, when things get cooler. Like that one time I was in New York City when they legalized Gay Marriage, and Chris and I just happened upon an amazing parade.

Man, how much life can change w/ time. Here I am now, running from strangers.

Ugh.

Directly following my Masters and going to bars with classmates and having decent girlfriends, friends too, I moved on to the grueling effort of getting a PhD. Originally, my intention was 1) to do well enough to transfer to somewhere more prestigious and 2) get a PhD from more-prestigious, aka-said, university. Things didn’t go that way, of course. And that’s OK.

Even with what’s going on.

Because: things suck and then they don’t.

I mean, Allan can’t (and therefore won’t) live forever. And this makes me very happy. Like confetti happy.

Doctor, Dude, Man. Forever.

In the Fall of 13 years ago, I started a PhD. I know I should’ve finished earlier. But, and like I’ve said before, there were issues unrelated to MATH that got in my way. I wouldn’t call it MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES, but maybe we could. I had been abused heavily as a child and this made me weird. Weirder than I ever could have been otherwise. And that’s considering my inherently ODD-WEIRD nature, perspectives. I just couldn’t make sense of ANYTHING social.

And maybe even to this day, the same. So, yeah, I took doctoral level classes in mathematics and statistics. Even, and Eventually, I completed courses above and beyond my degree (which arguably SHOULD have been part of the STATISTICS PROGRAM). Things like Real Analysis. Abstract Integration.

Either way.

And still.

How I went from undergraduate Differential Equations to GRADUATE Real Analysis, I have no clue. A classmate called it KNACK. There’s that word again. All is not perfect, though. I began by doing pretty poorly in this sequence. Then, Boris Shekhtman (yes, I had to look this up_, said something like:

“You’re not doing very well in this class.”

So I did very well in this class.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes. To hear the truth.

Now, if you read my transcript, like I am doing right now. You’ll see what I am about to say. It took me forever.

And that’s AFTER the classes. They call this ABD.

ALL BUT DISSERTATION

A status one should never take on for too long. Unless, eventually, you do actually get the degree. Which I did. But only after a lengthy period of working on TWO separate dissertations, with two –no wait, three– totally different major professors. I started with Ladde, and finished with Razvan and Iuliana Teodorescu. My final committee consisted of two Romanians (i.e., these ones), a man from Switzerland, a guy from Ukraine, and another guy from the Ukraine. Now that I consider this all, now, I realize just how weird it is.

So, under interesting international constraints, I finished a terminal degree in mathematics. How interesting. I was once a boy, then a drop-out. Then a Master, Doctor. Now, I’m just a Doctor.

[TAKES A BREAK TO DEAL WITH THE COFFEE-JITTERS]

[SHOULD EAT MORE, AND BETTER]

[STOP SIGN]

Now, I’m just a Doctor. Who’s being targeted, by an undergraduate psycho.

I guess this wouldn’t be the first time for all of that. In other words, I’ve had my fair share of bitter students. This tends to happen when you teach the HARD STUFF.

Either way, yet again, and in reflection, I wouldn’t have gone to school, maybe at all, if I would have known that I’d become a target like this. I don’t think I would’ve wasted any time on working, ever. I would have gone outside, learned to wear loin clothes and eat potentially troublesome fruits. In essence, I now see it fit to become a sort of New Guinean Tribal Element.

AKA:

When all is made pointless, what is the point?

But back to the struggle of getting a PhD. I spent my precious time doing so many things. I started a business, worked for various departments on campus. I made lots of contacts, which doesn’t seem to be helping right now. But I made them. I took part in a nationally-funded entrepreneurship program, twice. ICORPS, in case you know. I continued dating, and started taking trips, the kind of trips that would ultimately prepare me for how I am living now. Or barely living. Not living? Let’s go with BARELY LIVING.

I can recall the rents being cheaper, being able to afford a one-bedroom apartment, in TAMPA, on a grad student’s salary. It was great. Food was cheaper, gas too. Those were times unlike now. Evil has won. People are more at war, at rest. Students were calmer. And I wasn’t a target.

So, what’s the lesson in all of this? I’ve been wondering this myself, as I write these words here. If I HAD to guess, I’d say the point is: spend your time as if, someday, things will be much worse than they are. Prepare yourself for an uncertain future. If only to stay alive. View others as capable of atrocity. But, do not let this sour everyone, for you. Keep your heart pure, if only to combat the lack of purity you find in others. Hold some doors open. Don’t pull up the ladder when you’ve made it. And don’t let cheapness lead ruin to you.

I still have hopes for the future. I still plan to keep my youth, energy, and wit. Things are quite different now, but I shan’t let that dissuade me from a good life. Fuck Allan. Fuck the FBI. And fuck evil, generally.

Oh, and try to curse less.

PS — Don’t ever stop doing that which gets you targeted, in the first place. Well, unless you’re an actual terrorist. Then, you should probably stop being a terrorist. As for dissidents: IDK.

Double Post-Script: I didn’t do a very good job of taking my issues out of the writing. Sorry about that. Also, and once again, if I find out that the FBI is NOT at fault, then I will apologize, to them, in writing, with stickers.