Greater than a genius

After the storm, I took a walk in the cemetery because everything seemed too loud. I brought Warden and Regrette with me and we slipped in through the gates and past a woman who was walking a big white dog in the company of the dead. There was a fog and the cemetery looked much like you would imagine a cemetery to look like at its best. It was a nice walk.

I thought about many things. I thought about washing dishes. I thought about Belle Star's pancraps, er, I mean, pancakes. I thought about butter. Somewhere, someone, at sometime, conducted a study, or chugged and plugged a mass of numbers, or did extensive research, in order to come to the conclusion that if a person devoted 10,000 hours of practice towards some skill, that person would be considered a genius. If I washed dishes for 10,000 hours, would I be a dish washing genius? If Belle Star made her pancakes for 10,000 hours, would they really taste any better? Or would she be a poor-pancake-making-genius? If I put in 10,000 hours towards my butter creations, would my butters become world renown? Would I be considered the Einstein of butter? Would I have to change the name of this blog to BestButterBlog?

Maybe that should be my goal. To devote 10,000 hours on making butter. Do I love butter that much? Would I want to spend 10,000 hours on making butter? Would I settle for 5,000 hours? 2,500? What would 2,500 hours make me? A mediocre butter creator? So-so?

Devoting 10,000 hours towards something is a challenge. I mean, there are 8,766 hours in a year. And I spent 20 years in prison. That means, I spent 175, 320 hours in prison. I am more than an inmate genius. What's greater than a genius?

Whatever that is, I am what that is.