...and our question for the day is:

Despite the fact that I went to see "Star Wars: Revenge of the Stir-Fry" it has been a slow day...so, in keeping with my promise, I have drawn a random question from the list of brutal questions I am to answer honestly.

Todays question is: Are you sane?

Wow...tough one. I am often accused of being "political" in my answers to tough questions by individuals who see me as coming down on both sides of an issue. It isn't being political, it is trying to honestly and intellectually answer the question. Ignorance likes short answers. The problem is, there are few real short answers in the universe.

I would say I am probably in that marvelous grey area between stable and unstable, but towards the light end. I have a temper, but I haven't hit another person in decades, for instance. My coping mechanisms are not always the best, but I am aware of my actions and take responsibility for them (one of the reasons I do not use drugs or drink, I don't want the excuse of "well, I was drunk/stoned/wasted when I did/said/didn't do that").

That I have my darkside is undeniable, that I am perhaps a bit more aware of the conflicts within myself is also most likely true. It's the result of two forces, my involvement with women in the psychological fields who used me as a test bed for their studies (and the work I did as a study partner or assisting in their homework), and my own obsessive need to "know". I know more than I probably should about what makes me tick, but as Peter O'Toole said in "The Stunt Man" - "It's not what he's been eating but what's eating him that makes it sort of interesting."

So, am I sane? Based on all the tests I have been given and all the reading I've done, I'm probably pretty sane. Eccentric? Yes. Weird? Yes. But dangerous? Only to myself as I tend to get into situations where I have to take "the bullet" for someone else, take their actions or lies upon my own shoulders in order to protect them from the ramifications. This is certainly bad mental hygiene, and I do suffer for it (no names, please) but I'd rather be the accused than the accuser, rather be the one who gets the lumps than the one who dishes them out, rather be the used than the user. We live in a universe of action and reaction, there are always prey and always predators, and I would rather be the prey. I have built myself to take a pretty intense emotional beating and get up and keep walking.

It's easy to dismiss people once you label them. Idiot. Bitch. Liar. Fool (the only name you can call someone that is specifically prohibited in the Bible!). Addict. Liberal. Reactionary. From New Jersey. It makes it easy for the lazy side of us to take a nap rather than get to know the details. It's prejudice, and prejudice is wrong. But it is also wrong, I suppose, even under the best of intentions, to allow a lie to propagate itself, even if you are the only one hurt by it, as the person who created the lie and benefits from the diversion of blame never learns not to lie, never learns the lessons of their conduct.

Sane? Yes, by any reasonable standard of sanity. A good man? Yes, although I have made my share of mistakes and fallen down enough times to know how hard the ground feels for others. I have my demons, they just aren't all easily identifiable or recognizable to anyone who doesn't live inside my head 24/7. Nancy knew most of them, but loved me regardless. Jan knew almost as many, but accepted what I was as a dichotomy of intentions. Ann, well, I think she still doesn't know who she married, as the motives that drive me are inexplicable to her. That's not a judgement against her, merely an observation of the alienness of our value systems to one another. I think to some degree she was fortunate at never having to meet me in my own head...

I wish, sometimes, I was so blessed. I am drawn to damaged people, particularly damaged women. It has been said I don't have lovers, I have projects - and having waded, skull deep, through rape, addiction, incest and violence in the backgrounds of those I have and do love (for I find myself incapable of ever "dis-loving" someone) I am not sure I would know how to deal with someone who was not needing a hero. The leotard and cape are habit to me now. I don't want to be trapped in this, but there are people out there who need help and what am I to do? Tell them to burn because I'm busy taking care of me? No, and label that as you must but the truth of the matter is, philosophically and theologically, I accept the fact that love and self-sacrifice are high callings. Higher than self-interest and self-love.

We run the risk of a dissertation now on my vision of sacrifice. You don't want to hear that. I don't want to hear it. But I am sentient, morally aware and able to function in the world, indeed, I function better than most of the automatons out there. I can brush my teeth, hold a job, use a steak knife and use a public restroom. I can maintain the speed limit, take care of a sick person and drive a drunk woman home without thinking she got drunk for my pleasure. I can set rules for my own conduct that I don't demand others follow, write in complete sentences and wash behind my ears.

So, the answer is: Yes, I am sane. But the world is not a good place for sanity - I would be happier if I surrendered to the madness, but I can't. I feel a sense of duty, perhaps as penance for things I have done that I wish penance for, perhaps because I recognize the need for the job to get done. A clever man asked me the other day if I was happy. I told him I was content.

Content and sane. Now there's a dichotomy.