Our trips to Canada would not be complete without going to a stripclub. I've always found talking with the girls at stripclubs to be astonishingly easy, despite the fact that many of them are unfathomably attractive. Maybe it's reflective of the establishments my friends and I frequent, but the dancers are always interesting to talk to in my opinion (and sometimes the owners too). I'm genuinely curious to hear about where they go to school, what they're studying, and that sort of thing. Honestly, the only shitty conversations tend to be when I'm getting attention from a dancer I'm not interested in. I'm never rude. But in those cases I like to cut to the chase as quickly as possible, getting it out of the way so I don't miss out on a different one. Shallow, but hey-- it's just business. And that's the thing I love about stripclubs. It IS just business. Everybody knows why everybody else is there! It's like magic. The girls want your money, the owner wants your money, and the guys want some "quality entertainment". There are no mysterious motives. The environment is greatly controlled, ruled and regulated (again, assuming you don't go to some absolute dump). Only a moron would go there for anything else, practically speaking. This is in stark contrast to my experience with women out in the real world. Now, on the surface that is a blatantly obvious observation. Seriously though. Most girls out in the wild are completely and utterly unapproachable, and simultaneously the culture demands that they be approached. It's possible I'm projecting here. This is just what I've taken away from observation and personal experience. There's the simple fact that at a stripclub it's practically impossible to be turned down for a personal reason. I mean really. As long as you aren't a total idiot and doing something completely out-of-hand, you get to make a transaction. I'm not worried or nervous. The more important point though has to do with motivations. I don't like the traditional idea of dating where you go out and try to "hit on" strangers with nothing but the express intent of... well, intent of what exactly? Becoming their friend? Maybe I'm autistic and I just don't know it, but that seems a little weird to me, because why do you want to become their friend if you don't know anything about them other than "they're hot"? So, is the intent to go on a date with them so you can both get to know one another better? (This is probably the only legitimate reason I can think of, but only works if both of you are superficially attracted to one another from the get-go.) Get laid? Get their phone number? Why do you want their phone number though? I don't know, it just really isn't for me. That's why I hate bars and clubs. Those scenes are full of people like this. Pick-up-artist types. One-night-standers. Basic bitches. Dunning Kruger Alpha Males. Drunks. Not my crowd. For years now the only girls I've started talking to are ones I've met circumstantially. You know, through a friend, working together at a job, sitting together at school (which is no longer an option considering I take my classes online now). Forget online dating. But I don't know, I also don't have time for a relationship right now anyway. I'll be real. I'm not in the position to properly handle one. If I have a successful writing career then my stance will change. But I'd rather not get involved in a relationship and screw myself over so that I can't afford to work on what I love. That wouldn't be worth it in my opinion. Met plenty of people who were doomed to a shitty, life-long career because they decided to have kids before getting a job that was fulfilling, meaningful, and supporting.
Just finished reading The Book of Five Rings by Miyamoto Musashi, translated by William Scott Wilson. Included in it were 21 precepts that Musashi wrote only days before his death; they take up only two pages in the ~100 page book. At first I wondered why they were included, until I quickly realized that the precepts are the irreducible, atomized points of the "Way" which are further expanded upon by Musashi in this work. These precepts were called The Way of Walking Alone (or The Way of Self-Reliance). Below are two different translations that seem to be, after a quick Google, the most popular and widely accepted. The first picture is the William Scott Wilson translation. Now, whenever I finish a book I like to explore it by writing about it. In the case of The Rommel Papers this included a review and a couple articles in which I reflected on specific parts of the text. It seems to me that it isn't just enough to read something, as the words tend to go in one ear and out the other. Nothing sticks. But taking a more active approach and applying myself means I can genuinely take something away from the reading. The benefit for you is that I might, by some stroke of luck, make you interested enough to either read the book for yourself, partake in the discussion, or be mildly entertained by my musings. - Precept 1 - Translation 1: "Do not turn your back on the various ways of this world." Translation 2: "Accept everything just the way it is." I won't ponder which translation is more accurate, but I think there's something good to be said about both. Regarding the former translation, I think of how turning your back to the truth will come back to haunt you. I do not think the latter translation means that one shouldn't try to make change in the world. Rather, if one is to bring about change, they must first come to terms with their present reality. Otherwise you're like a child hitting buttons and flipping switches at random in order to try and fly an F-16. You know what you want to do, but not how to do it, and chances are you will either fail to do anything significant or you will create chaos. - Precept 2 - Translation 1: "Do not scheme for physical pleasure." To me, scheme has a negative connotation. When I read this I think of abusing drugs, or using people for selfish hedonism (as a sexual object, for their wealth, etc.) Translation 2: "Do not seek pleasure for its own sake." While there's nothing wrong with finding pleasure in things, only doing that which is pleasurable leads down dark paths as far as I can tell. Pleasure should come about from truly rewarding experiences, like overcoming challenges or even taking on responsibilities such as marriage and raising children. Pleasure should be sought through effort and discipline, but understand that it is not the ultimate objective or the defining characteristic of a good life. I also couldn't help but make a connection to "Pleasure Island" from Pinocchio, where the kids slowly become asses, extorted and enslaved. Or as Juvenal said, "Give them bread and circuses and they'll never revolt." - Precept 3 - Translation 1: "Do not intend to rely on anything." Translation 2: "Do not, under any circumstances, depend on a partial feeling." It's only natural that if one is to be self-reliant that they do not rely on anybody or anything. However, the second translation goes as far as to say a "partial feeling", and I struggled to make sense of this. The best I've managed, is that any feeling is partial insofar as it is incomplete. So unless you are certain of your feelings, one ought not rely on them. Instead, I think that feelings are more useful for informing you when there is uncertainty that requires further investigation. To tie this to the previous precept, the feeling of pleasure is also partial in terms of being biased. Do not favor pleasure simply because it feels good, or for "pleasure's sake". This can blind you to things that need to be done but are unpleasant, or it can hinder one from making progress if the pleasure is not attained through instant-gratification, and instead has to be earned. More pleasure is felt from knowing you are making progress towards a goal, rather than from attaining the goal. - Precept 4 - Translation: "Consider yourself lightly; consider the world deeply." (second translation basically identical) I must often remind myself to not take myself too seriously. I am the main character in my story, but I am a supporting character in that of others. Rarely I can be an antagonist. Mostly, I'm an extra. And usually? Not included or mentioned. Every hero starts out as a fool. Sometimes, the hero still is the fool. - Precept 5 - Translation 1: "Do not ever think in acquisitive terms." Translation 2: "Be detached from desire your whole life long." Easier said than done. At first I thought of greed. But I see now how I did not delve deeply enough. Alan Watts goes into great detail about the double-bind we all face here, which is desiring to stop desiring. This makes me wonder: Why is it bad to desire in the first place? Doesn't it depend on what you desire? - Precept 6 - Translation 1: "Do not regret things about your own personal life." Translation 2: "Do not regret what you have done." Another lesson I could really benefit from taking to heart. It's meaning is multi-fold. Implicitly it seems to be saying that one ought to act in a way that would give you no reason for regret. More literally, if you are regretting something from your past, you cannot move on. You cannot be in harmony with the present moment. And if you have regrets, that means you have not learned from those mistakes, which is perhaps the biggest regret of all. I believe that everything happens for a reason, and that the dots are often connected backwards more than they are forwards. We know the what and how before we get the why. The Chinese farmer story comes to mind. His horse runs away, but brings back more wild horses. However, one of the wild horses breaks the leg of the farmer's son. What a shame right? But then the conscription officers come around, and they do not take his son now because of his broken leg. All the while when the fellow villagers ask if these events are good or bad, the farmer simply says, "We will see." - Precept 7 - Translation 1: "Do not envy another's good or evil." Translation 2: "Never be jealous." To be envious or jealous would mean breaking the first and fifth precepts. The most peculiar thing about this is the "or evil". Maybe it means that you should not seek to possess the capability for doing evil. As in, wishing to have no conscience so as to con others, or commit murder, as just a couple of many examples. - Precept 8 - Translation 1: "Do not lament parting on any road whatsoever." Translation 2: "Never let yourself be saddened by a separation." This relates to the third precept, which says not to rely on anything (and I extended that to "or anybody"). As well, it's a fitting principle for a way of self-reliance. This idea of separation does not only apply to people, but it applies to places too. Separation is not always permanent. Places and people may be returned to, and if not, then that means they have played their part, and you should not prevent future places and people from playing theirs. - Precept 9 - Translation 1: "Do not complain or feel bitterly about yourself or others." Translation 2: "Resentment and complaint are appropriate neither for oneself nor others." This relates to precepts one, six, and seven. Jealousy would certainly lead to complaint and resentment. Regret could certainly do the same. And so could not accepting the way things are. It's not only unattractive to behave this way, but it prevents you from finding solutions. I can only change myself. I must constantly remind myself of this, or else risk disappointment. I can recommend change to others, and show them where they may be going wrong, but I have no control over them. I should not expect to fix anything but myself, so that I can lead by example and naturally influence those around me. - Precept 10 - Translation 1: Have no heart for approaching the path of love. Translation 2: Do not let yourself be guided by the feeling of lust or love. Probably the precept that I have the greatest problem with. After much thinking, I've concluded that the "Way of Walking Alone" is not something that must be walked permanently, and at all times. Instead it is a path that all of us, at one point or another, will find ourselves on. Or a path we will need to eventually choose in order to get ourselves out of a quagmire. Perhaps this precept should also not be taken so literally. Instead I interpret it as saying that lust or love cannot guide you by themselves. It isn't practical. They are forces which become dangerous when out of balance in that manner. To fall in love is to take on the risk with courage. - Precept 11 - Translation: "Do not have preferences." (alternate translation is basically the same) To prefer one thing over another can be stifling and prevent one from being as versatile and adaptable as they otherwise could be. To hold preferences, one must consciously accept and know that they are compromising their versatility and adaptability. Of course, one can also argue that simply having a preference does not mean it is impossible for them to do otherwise. But it can certainly lead to disappointment. - Precept 12 - Translation 1: "Do not harbor hopes for your own personal home." Translation 2: "Be indifferent to where you live." It's...
I called off work last weekend with some totally fabricated, phony "symptoms". In other words, I'm a jackass taking advantage of the pandemic. But to me it doesn't feel that way. Obviously I'm not literally sick, but mentally I definitely am. It's just that saying I'm physically ill is understood to be much more legitimate than some amorphous, stigma'd mental illness like depression. Thanks to COVID, I do not have to worry about being treated as a liar. The slightest throat clear is received with a sharp inhale and a worried expression. Perfect. I have a bad cough. I have a sore throat. I feel like I might throw-up. Okay, don't come to work. I feel like I want I want to kill myself. Okay, maybe you should be fired. Fuck you, you worthless, unreliable, weak, waste of space. So I've learned to be a professional liar. This pandemic is the best thing that might have ever happened to me. I still have my job thanks to it. In the same vein, I've sent a completely false report to my university's health report app system saying I have COVID-like symptoms, but that I am not verified positive. It gave me an automated response to not go to campus, and that I will apparently hear from some COVID team or whatever soon; I presume within the next 12-24 hours. In addition, I have one class in which my professor told me I have to be there IN PERSON for the next 8 weeks, three days a week, starting today. Ha. Go fuck yourself. Sent him an email saying that I am self-quarantining as requested both by my work place as well as by the official university health app. Told him to please tell me what I need to do here at home to stay on task. What a joke man. My only hope at this point is that psilocybin passes its testing phases as a legit depression treatment. My depression is so bad that I don't want to go to sleep. I still take Nyquil or drink alcohol to force myself to sleep (never both, because that can cause severe liver damage). Why on Earth would I want to fast-travel into a future I'm not looking forward to? My mind wants to believe that if I just stay awake longer that the future will never come. But it always does, and I'm always underslept. I don't look forward to tomorrow. To class. To people I don't connect with, assignments I either don't give a shit about or are so mind-numbingly easy that they're a waste of time and thousands of $$$. To a future that I'm unfit for. A future that demands consistency of me that I am incapable of delivering. A future of more boredom, loneliness, sadness. Piss-off. All of it. The only thing I want to do, is nothing. The reason I don't want to sleep is because I know I'll wake-up.
The Rommel Papers are the incomplete memoirs of senior military commander Erwin Rommel that avoided burning by the author himself while under investigation by the gestapo, and remained hidden with the cooperation of friends and family after Hitler forced him to commit suicide on the grounds of suspected treason. Kept safe from the hands of the Nazis and Soviets, and recovered from their secret locations or American possession following the culmination of the Second World War, Captain Liddell-Hart along with Paul Findlay have done a great justice helping bring Rommel's remarkable story to publication. From his exploits in France, to his daring feats in Africa that earned him stardom and prestige; infamy that would just as quickly be stripped from him by his fellow colleagues and jealous peers amidst the hunt for a scapegoat; and leading up to the tragic final days recalled by his son Manfred. Paul Findlay's translation succeeds not just in accuracy, but in ensuring the life and voice of the author are preserved. Rich in detail, Rommel takes the reader along for a lucid and gripping journey, allowing active access to the military mastermind and the personal letters of a loving husband and father. One can feel the weight of every decision and the impact on the loyal soldiers under his command. It can't be helped to bond with him during the heart-racing close-calls that led to his nickname: The Desert Fox. And readers are not the only ones enamored by these exotic African escapades. "Moreover, Rommel became much more than a bogey to the British. Awe for his dynamic generalship developed into an almost affectionate admiration for him as a man... fostered by the way that he maintained in African warfare the decencies of the soldierly code, and by his own chivalrous behavior towards the many prisoners of war he met in person. He became the hero of the Eighth Army who were fighting against him -- to such an extent that... when wanting to say that someone had done a good job of any kind on their own side, to describe it as "doing a Rommel". (Liddell-Hart, page '3' of Introduction) Editor B.H. Liddell-Hart has outdone himself providing footnotes where necessary for clarification, or cross-analyses with other accounts like Montgomery's that serve both to legitimize as well as correct Rommel's story. Such mistakes made by Rommel are not due to "intentions to falsify the balance-sheet" (Liddell-Hart, page '1' of Introduction) as in the cases of Napoleon and Caesar, but instead are the result of working with limited information and using that to make conjectures and educated estimates that he did not have the opportunity to revisit. Even so, a shocking amount of Rommel's guesswork and Zoltar-esque theorizing ultimately comes true. Over the course of the war we watch his hopes crumble and his fears become reality as he struggles against fate itself, most of it unfolding before his demise, the rest in hind-sight. With this knowledge in mind, I can't help but wonder how differently the war may have turned out had he been listened to and granted more control. Maybe blunders such as Stalingrad, the fall of Africa, and the Italian debacle could've been avoided had he been given the trust he deserved. Maybe now in that alternate universe I'd be writing auf Deutsch about "The Churchill Chronicles". His conflict with both Hitler and Mussolini are best distilled in Sun Tzu's "Art of War", where it states that interference from the sovereign in the execution of a battle spells inevitable defeat for the functionally hindered general. We observe this play out like a broken record in Rommel's memoirs, where supply quotas fall short over and over, while more and more is increasingly expected of him and his men who must figure out how to obey suicidal orders from the Fuhrer. Orders that would be the beginning of the end for Rommel's loyalty to Hitler. From the outset, Liddell-Hart establishes himself as a reliable source, demonstrating prior to the beginning of Rommel's story that he is well-read on the subject of military history. This continued approach bolsters the overall objectivity of the work with an additional wealth of information and perspective, solidifying the integrity of The Rommel Papers on the whole. It's partly thanks to this -- and also thanks to trustworthy contributions made by Rommel's close subordinate Fritz Bayerlein, and son Manfred Rommel -- that I strongly recommend history buffs, World War II geeks, and those who are researching military philosophy should pick up this gem. Its impartial execution on behalf of Findlay and Liddell-Hart is worthy of high praise, and of course Rommel's shared tactical and strategical genius, and wisdom regarding what qualities constitute great men -- in addition to his faults and mistakes laid bare -- offers a lot to be learned. As with most of history, there is debate as to the true motivations and intentions that were the driving forces behind the Desert Fox. What exactly was his involvement in the 20 July Plot, an assassination attempt on Hitler? It's clear that Rommel had some sort of contact and sympathies with many of those involved, although the specifics and extent of this is uncertain. On the contrary, he was also openly critical of the whole ordeal, but could that have been to cover for himself? Liddell-Hart does not avoid these murky territories that would most certainly have a huge impact on Rommel's image, but he makes sure to specify what little is known compared to the great amount of conjecture. If nothing else, Rommel wielded the pen like he did the sword, as can be seen from the passage "On the way we saw the bodies of several British soldiers lying beside some destroyed anti-tank guns. Arabs had plundered the bodies and robbed them of their clothing. There was nothing to be seen of these ghouls, which was fortunate for them, for they would otherwise have had something to remember us by." (Rommel, 406). He blitzkriegs his t's, fausts his i's, and unlike myself still manages the rare stroke of humor. Thanks to first-rate translation and editing, Rommel's compelling tale will pull you into the backseat of his command vehicle and have you cheering on and sympathizing with a human being fighting on the wrong side for what so far appear to be the right reasons, winning the hearts of friend and foe alike; preserving in ink the honor of his fellow men who died serving their country first and an ideology second, and their view of the events that shaped our world today. --- Rommel, Erwin, Fritz Bayerlein, and Manfred Rommel. The Rommel Papers. Ed. Basil Henry Liddell-Hart. Trans. Paul Findlay. 15th ed. New York: Da Capo, 2003. Print.
Anything said from hereon is just my opinion; my personal feelings and experience. Not scientific research or objective fact. I'm going to word it as carefully and neutrally as I can. Get ready, because this will be a long one. This presidential election will probably be the first and the last that I vote in. Since I first went to high-school, but especially in 2016 when I graduated coinciding with the previous election, I've increasingly felt like I don't belong. Conversations with my peers on the internet or at school, with many friends or acquaintances in real life, act as routine reinforcement to this feeling. Since graduating, I've lost half of my friends. Some reading that I've done, including a basic level political science course, has taught me that politics isn't just a mere opinion like your favorite color or what food tastes good to you. Sit down and have a reasonable conversation with somebody you disagree with on a political issue, and you might dig deep enough to discover that you and this other person fundamentally disagree on a principle, or a value, buried beneath a heap of rubble and a lot of noise. You might also discover that some people are now defining words differently than you, and that their new definitions of these words have been deliberately crafted to suit their own view and arguments. This has happened to me too. We're not even using the same language anymore. This made the constant debates and arguments among my friend-group tedious, often talking past one another, with the conversation quickly fraying into multiple threads that couldn't be put back together; on one, we're disagreeing on what a certain term even means, on another we're disagreeing about what the "facts" are, and on yet another we're disagreeing on a principle or moral value. Hell, that's not even mentioning the other common thread: conflicting feelings. Then we can make feelings more philosophically complicated! Can feelings be wrong? What do I mean by "wrong"? The rabbit hole never stops. I've had enough. Ultimately the friend-group became very toxic. Every day I would wake to find more links from the various talking-head sites on the internet about the latest thing the president or another politician did, or the latest thing about the protests, riots; the headline of the latest dead cop right above or beneath the latest headline about a person killed by police. As I'm sure you're well aware, this only scratches the surface of the iceberg. We could talk about dozens— no, hundreds of other domestic issues for my country, not to mention issues around the world or the impending doom of climate change. Every day I would wake up to find my friends arguing back and forth. Basically, imagine the debate room here. Paragraphs upon paragraphs, and some name calling, and now and again multiple people ganging up on one person who can't hope to respond fast enough to defend themselves or make a case. And for what? What do we hope to accomplish by all this? I could maybe see the point if there were a crowd of truly undecided people. But this was not the case. Eventually it became a circle-jerk (for either team). Words were said, people left the group chat, a new group chat was made named something to the effect of "The non-racists" or something similarly petty. You get the idea. Those guys I no longer talk to. And among my friends who I am still close with, if not a little bit closer, figurative phrases such as "I don't know who they are anymore" have been spoken. Perhaps my ex-friends say the same. That is the jist of how close-to-home this ostracization has hit for me. I thought I knew these people but either I didn't, or they drastically changed to the point that our relationship had to be severed. Everything is becoming politicized to the point where it can hardly be escaped for a single day. Google says it knows what is best for you to see, TV has chosen commercials for you and you've got no say in the matter, ads on YouTube have been targeted for you like heat-seeking missiles... It never ends. And even among friends it has become an inevitability. The solution I came to was to do my best to opt-out, or otherwise tolerate it when I can't. I hardly watch TV anymore. I have a good ad-blocker on most of my devices. I can leave the room if the discussion is about something political. But really all that's happened is I've actually been distancing myself further and further away, leaving rooms more and more often, talking less and less to more and more people. I go to college orientation and feel like I don't belong because of the views and beliefs that are being expressed. But all the hundreds of my same-aged peers around me seem on board. I continue attending college and have to take these online socializing programs that are mandated by the administration, because I guess it wasn't enough to harp on these same views and beliefs at the three-day orientation weekend bonanza. Yet the only complaints on campus from my fellow students is that the administration isn't doing enough to force these ideas down my throat. I continue attending college and end up completely changing majors for a lot of these reasons; I did not like where the journalism industry was, or where it was heading. The director of the campus newspaper (which I worked for) says the ideological phrase to me, "We *ALWAYS* believe her." All I can think, is this place is crazy, and no journalist always believes anything. I changed majors to my one and only back-up, teaching English. I am very adamant with my new advisors that I want to minor in ESL because "I want to keep my options open". That was short-hand for saying "in case high-school English teaching has also been taken over by ideology". It becomes apparent to me that if you control the public education that ~90% of every new generation will attend, then you have a lot of control over what they think. This is social engineering. In my English course this semester, we're only examining literature through lenses that are in accordance to this aforementioned ideology. We are not learning about or utilizing a "Christian lens" or a "traditionalist lens" or a "conservative lens" or a "capitalist lens". Only, and exclusively the opposite. Begin to wonder if I'll be able to give future English students a balanced education. My roommates and I have a few people over, I don't know, maybe a month-and-a-half ago. One of them gets into a vehement disagreement about a hot-button issue with a couple of us. Has not been back over since despite many many opportunities. This person was treated as God's-child by the journalism program, and was specially selected to be the editor-in-chief of the campus newspaper, and post-graduation was assisted in landing a job at a major newspaper in a big city on the east side of the country. Starting to become apparent that "getting with the social engineering program" has its benefits. Watching the last debate the other night on the couch with one of my roommates and his girlfriend. Just like every other girl I've met at college, they are completely under the influence of this ideology. This isn't to say that she is a bad person, or that any of the others are bad people by merely being an advocate of this specific ideology. Not at all. In fact, her and I get along just fine. But the sheer idea of so much as questioning her on these specific beliefs is blasphemy, and elicits a most incredibly emotional, hostile reaction. She can speak her mind from the couch oh-so-freely, to the reveling of all! If only I could do the same. Starting to notice a trend that very beautiful girls like her get with the program to fit in socially. Like, if all these other people bought into it, clearly the product must be righteous. The other "option" would be social suicide to them, and that's not an option. This is assuming that they didn't already believe in this ideology for other reasons that aren't quite as superficial, or practical, for lack of better words. I think fitting in socially is a happy coincidence for many of them. Starting to feel that what I'm experiencing now are only the seeds, and that the future will only be worse. Starting to worry that how ostracized I feel now will only increase. How will it be, working for the rest of my life in a career where from the top-down I am forced to teach kids according to a system of social-engineering that I do not agree with? How will it be working in a career that is predominantly made-up of the same people that I know now? Not at all bad people, but people that I must always painfully maintain a specific distance from because of their beliefs about me, my skin color, or my gender. And so I'm already looking at other countries where this ideology has not yet sunk its teeth and claws into. The best option I can find is Japan. So, I'm taking four semesters of Japanese while at university so that maybe I can have a back-up plan of teaching English there. I'm not suggesting that Japan is a perfect country, or that this ideology doesn't exist there at all. And I'm sure in time, no doubt it will find its way there, and so too one of the few remaining eggs will be put into one basket. I happen to not agree with pretty much anything this new ideology has to offer. I do not find its arguments convincing. I find the way that it views me and other people to be abhorrent. Yet it is becoming more and more mainstream. It is increasingly considered to be virtuous. It will inevitably become the new normal because every generation is being taught to think these things. Social engineering ensures that those who disagree are encouraged to "get with the program", or else be called all sorts of -ists, be outcasted, be ignored. I'm not saying I like it, or that I enjoy it, or that it feels good. But my own beliefs and my own temperament do not allow me to sell-out myself and get with this program. I can't live like that. I've tried...
Can somebody help me understand these two states of Kierkegaard's, and the transition from the former to the latter? I'd be surprised if anyone on here is well versed in Kierkegaard, but figured I'd give this a shot. My current understanding is that a Knight of Infinite Resignation, to use the dancer metaphor, has not yet fully resolved the dissonance between the leap and the landing. The KOIR, upon the finite "ground" to continue with the metaphor, is not at peace with the finite. So he continually returns to the infinite, again and again in this kind of dance. In a sense I'm not sure if the dancer metaphor is the best... more like somebody walking on hot coals (the hot coals being the finite). At some point, eventually one jumps and finds cool relief in the infinite. (But doesn't that just lend credence to the idea that faith or religion is a mere opiate of the masses?) For the Knight of Faith, this dissonance is out of the question. He is beyond this dissonance, though at one point he was not. It is now no longer thought about because it makes no difference whether he's up in the air or has his feet on the coals. There is seamless fluidity and synchronicity between the finite and infinite for the KOF. Yet the reason they are not dancing on the coals *isn't* because the soles of their feet have been calloused, but something like the opposite... and is that what's "absurd" about the KOF? That the KOF is dancing on the coals because he chooses to, not because he has to relieve the pain of the finite or has numbed himself to it? That is to say, is the KOIR hopping about from foot to foot on the hot coals, "dancing" as it were, while the KOF is literally ballet dancing on the hot coals unaffected? I feel that I don't really understand either though. I feel like I'm getting there, but they're just out of reach. It seems to me that the Knight of Faith is an impossible ideal, embodied seemingly only in Abraham, and the value is in the striving for it, not its attainment. One can get infinitely closer to it, but never truly be *it*. (or am I only saying that because I'm a Knight of Infinite Resignation lol?) My other question: is the transition from KOIR to KOF a point of no return? Or can an individual go through periods of life in which they are experiencing what it's like to be content and at peace with the finite and the infinite, and then somehow they fall, lose their balance, and must get up and start again, just like even the most professional dancer can make a mistake?
An important thing to remember is that threat of punishment cannot strip you of your natural freedom. You have the liberty to do whatever you want. But we've decided that certain things are not permissible for the sake of maintaining a functioning order. Choose to exercise the freedom to take away freedom, and you'll be punished for doing so. Yet you still have the option to do it in the first place. Such is the necessary risk we all take in having the gift of free-will. There will always be consequences for your actions, but that doesn't mean your freedom is being taken away necessarily. Not yet. We channel - we guide - our inherit freedom like "water". Everybody has their own amount of this liquidized freedom, and therefore we have by default the right to choose what we subject it to. There are benefits to channeling our freedom through the systems of society, enjoying the give-and-take of relationships that take on many different forms. Letting it roar like a river in pursuit of your happiness and eroding away obstacles, seeking the path of least resistance. Freedom has the same quality. Be free my friends. Of course, along with society comes the necessary evil of law and order. And there are also dangers. Traps. Sometimes you might run your freedom through the 9-to-5 machine; an engine that always needs fueling and cooling because it can't dare to stop running, lest civilization itself shuts-down. Leave your "water" in there for too long and it will evaporate before your eyes. Lubricant needs changing eventually. Let new blood in rather than circulating yourself through office cubicles forever. Relationships are great, but one day you might find that your partner's water is more like oil. Always taking top-priority. Or they might freeze your water. Poison it. Turn off your faucet. Rather than a beautiful dance, it turns into a hierarchical fight for control. Even your own father may be tyrannical, or your mother a cosseter, restricting your freedom into a shrinking container that will burst at the seams from the pressure... if you resist. Unfortunately there seems to be fewer and fewer people with the spirit to resist these days, and their freedom can be confined to a small box, forgotten about in the back of a dark closet. Wrapped in a package and sold to a business, a bank, a politician, or an ideology. Don't sell your water. Freedom is priceless! Lend some of it, share some of it, but never let it be stolen. Be the arbiter. Still some may say, "You're not allowed to do *this* because *that* will happen, so we're not really free anyway." This is a terrible mistake, for you're surrendering your natural-born freedom by making it dependent upon an additional, artificial limitation - an unnatural pre-requisite - when freedom should mean independent. By saying that, you're just convincing yourself of the lie that you cannot be free so long as 'x' is a consequence of 'y'. As if the presumed result that has not even occurred yet is literally, physically preventing you from doing the present action. In other words: you're allowing the future to determine your present. This is no way to live. That being said, what if the full sentence instead was, "You're not allowed to do what's right, because you'll be killed." That's exactly what The White Rose faced in Nazi Germany, like the millions of other residents at the time. Very few of them made the brave decision that those kids and their professor did. To stand up for what's right in spite of death. Most aren't willing to pay that price, because they value life over freedom. I believe living is worthless without freedom though. If you're not free, you're already dead. Madison was more than likely referring to government specifically, but this applies to any authority, and can even apply to those seeking power. In most cases, a great deal of events have to happen before the price of freedom becomes "Your Life". So many times the danger can be seen from miles away. Yet you know the adage: give a man an inch and he'll take a mile. It's a slippery slope, especially considering nowadays we like to sacrifice inches of freedom for a little "safety" or inches of justice for a little "equality". It sets a bad precedent. A word you're not allowed to say anymore, becomes a thought you're not allowed to have anymore, which turns into a belief you're not allowed to hold anymore, and a person you're not allowed to be anymore. The opposite is also true; take what's happening in Canada for example, with Bill C-16. Pronouns you must use, become thoughts you must think, from leaders you must obey, otherwise you're not the person you're told you must supposedly be... a "good citizen". As humans we're very adaptive when it comes to our environment and making the necessary sacrifices. We're also very good at changing our environment to fit our needs, for better or for worse. However, we can build tolerance to the wrong things. As the Greek philosopher Aristotle once said, "Tolerance and apathy are the last virtues of a dying society." Our freedom is not something to sacrifice. If you are not willing to give up your life for liberty, you'd do damn well to make sure it never gets to that point.
The first challenge in writing this blog post is to first not seem like I am just bragging about having a big brain; I make no claim to genius IQ. The second challenge is that it is almost cliche to talk about this relationship because of the nauseating sayings "he who increaseth knowledge increaseth sorrow" and "ignorance is bliss". As a result, I feel like nobody really takes this problem seriously. Which is unfortunate, since I do suffer from this problem. My father has instilled in me a life philosophy that is anti-life. It is hyper-critical, and fiercely cynical. Like Martha Cochrane (from the novel England, England) I would make for a great advisor to someone with far more courage than me. My father was always adamant about thinking before doing things. Think about every bad thing that could conceivably happen. Fixate on your failures. Obsess on perfection. It's kind of like analysis paralysis, although different in that it's not necessarily a result of *too much* data. It's the result of having detected every single pitfall imaginable, so that the only thing I am able to do is the safest, almost entirely risk-free option. Unfortunately, there are a small but important category of things in life where this strategy is really, really unhelpful. From 20ish years of this I have learned cowardice instead of bravery. I learned to be full of doubts, but not faith. I lack confidence. I can tell you a million reasons why something won't work, how a given thing could go wrong, all of the confounding variables, but all that leaves me is right where I started. Stuck. And oftentimes the only way I can be unstuck is to be forcibly removed, thrown, dragged, by a person or an event that leaves me no choice. That's me. I won't go to Japan because I don't speak the language well enough in advance, I am worried about my mental illness flaring up and ruining everything (but I still have no control over my mental illness, so this obstacle is indefinite), I am worried about failing if I went to work in Japan, I am worried about embarrassing myself in social situations, I have an almost violent hatred of mistakes-- I use Japan more or less as a meme of an example, since I'm a weeb. The truth of the matter is that this hang-up of mine applies to everything in my life. Every job I've had, I found a hundred and one legitimate reasons why it is complete and utter trash. And you know what I hate? People who treat me like my "attitude" or "perspective" is wrong. There's nothing wrong about it. I mean, are you saying that my concerns or that my criticisms are impossible or inaccurate? I mean, we can have that discussion, and it's possible that I might concede on a few points. But if I had 10, 12, 20 reasons, subtracting a few won't do any good. Granted, it is imbalanced. But I hate being told that it is "wrong". There is nothing wrong about it. I think way too long, way too hard, do too much research from my armchair, know too many anecdotes, have too great a hate for failure or making mistakes, for it to be completely and utterly "wrong". Worse still, because of my intellect, the vast majority of people I encounter are simply not capable of questioning me. That's why I write pseudo-private, mentally ill journal entries on a writing forum. I have found that therapists are ill equipped to adequately address my problems. Yes, obviously many of my concerns or anxieties are not LITERALLY reality yet. Bravo, what an astounding observation. I just find myself thinking no fucking shit. The problem isn't that I don't realize my anxieties aren't literally real, you nitwit. The problem is that the realization that my anxieties aren't literally real does nothing to change my emotional state, my behavior, or my course of action/inaction. Yet I am treated as if all it will take to overcome all of my theoretical issues is to realize they aren't technically real. It's a Schrodinger's cat scenario. You're asking me to essentially place a bet that every Schrodinger's cat will be alive and well, if only I would open the box. My cynicism tells me that this is a stupid bet. If you do some unbiased crunching of the numbers to determine the probability, you would know that this is highly unlikely without needing to suffer from the same neurosis as me. That's why I drank so much. Because when I drink, this entire software is disabled. The cancerous, toxic fucking voice of my father is silenced. I don't care what happens. I don't care what people think of me. I don't care about the consequences. I just don't fucking care. And that's all I've ever wanted. Caring about shit, and being intelligent enough to "think before you x", has done nothing but hamstring me, hinder me, cuck me in every single fucking facet of life. It's no wonder that I wish I were an actual fucking idiot. You're so stupid that you can't even conceive of such a deep, intractable neurosis, much less subject yourself to one. I don't care what happens to me. I don't care if I get psychosis at this point, not that I had any clinical basis for being concerned about this in the first place. I am going to start drinking again. Therapists have proven completely ineffective at providing me a way to achieve the same state I can achieve by the *pss-CRACK* opening and downing of a cold beer. I am now going to neurotically think about this for the next 72-ish hours. We'll see what conclusion I come to. But finally not having to care about how my life sucks total ass, how there is nothing fun in my life, how I can't live my life because of my neurosis, that all sounds very enticing. Video games are a useless waste of fucking time? Who cares! I'm spending thousands of dollars on a degree to get a job that I still don't know if I will enjoy? Who cares! That's what everyone else magically does! Nobody else gives a single fuck! You're the only one Fox! For whatever reason, everyone else is either magically unaffected by the litany of MASSIVE potential problems that loom over them every waking moment of their existence, or they're so fucking stupid that they can't even see them, or conceive in their tiny pebble-sized brains as to why they should care about the problems that lurk in their future! Explain that to me. For those who the explanation of sheer stupidity does not suffice, then please explain what magic you possess that allows you to not give a fuck and to delude yourself into thinking everything you do in life will work. Is it a lack of virtue or morals, so that you can stick your dick in a girl, cum in her with no condom, and just abort the baby if it comes down to it? If there's one thing I hate in life, it is people with confidence. So before you reply, please be aware upfront of my hatred of you for possessing confidence. God didn't allow me to have confidence. Confidence cannot be taught. You possess something I do not have and cannot have, so I do honestly hate you. But with that said, please by all means share your secrets, on the off-chance that even an intellect as massive as mine is wrong about this, and that confidence can be taught. But all the data I have seen suggests that confidence is something you're either born with or not; at least, it is something that is either permanently made unshakeable by a functional childhood, or is permanently disabled and corroded and ground to dust by a dysfunctional childhood. It's a good thing I found the cheat code with alcohol. It must be nice, to have never needed to put any work into developing your own confidence and faith.
I'm applying to a university writing program. They average 1000 applications a year, including overseas applications, and accept 12 for poetry and 12 for fiction. You can apply to one or the other but not both; I'm applying for fiction. If you get in, you get to stay there on campus for three years while you attend the program, completely paid for. Am I expecting to get in? No. Do I think I have a reasonable chance? Yes. So I'm giving it more than the old college try. They're looking for those who write literary fiction. Which more or less just means that the writing has literary merit. In my opinion, The Lord of the Rings qualifies as having literary merit. Many might disagree. It's one of those "is rock better than rap?" or "what is art?" questions, in my opinion. Now it becomes a matter of whether or not my writing can be considered literary fiction. I can't say, but I do know that writing literary fiction is my goal. Those are the heights I would some day like to reach. Not that there's anything wrong with writing genre fiction, which I've done, and could do better. And not that there isn't overlap between genre and literary fiction. I believe I have the potential to write with literary merit, and that some of the ideas I have in my mind could become works of literary fiction. I should add that it doesn't say they're excluding genre writers. But it's clear they're going out of their way to find literary fiction writers. They said as much. Which, to my understanding, means writing that has relevance to social issues, politics, or is an exploration of the individual human condition. Of course, that's such a broad definition that you can put Marquis de Sade and Hemingway into the same category. I guess that by genre fiction they mean "paint by numbers" fiction - "fill in the blank" fiction - and literary fiction is whatever is outside of that. George Orwell's 1984 and Animal Farm, Aldous Huxley's Brave New World, Hemingway's A Farewell to Arms, Tolstoy's Anna Karenina, Dostoevsky's Brothers Karamazov and Notes from Underground, Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights, Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre, Fitzgerald's The Great Gatsby, Hosseini's The Kite Runner, Milton's Paradise Lost, Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy, Tolkien's The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, C.S. Lewis' Narnia... I think I've read enough literary fiction to have a modest understanding. Anyway, I hope that if I'm not accepted, it's on the grounds of merit. And if I am accepted, I hope it isn't an ideological indoctrination course. I hope it's actually a deep study of writing and story-telling. Different authors, different styles, themes, archetypes and structure, with a lot of workshopping. I would greatly benefit from such a learning opportunity. Having played soccer for 14 years of my life, from rec league, to travel, to high-school varsity, I know the importance and value of having a coach. Of having teammates, or otherwise peers, to grow with. I wish I appreciated it more at the time. Unfortunately, to the detriment of us all, it's increasingly difficult and rare to have an opportunity to apprentice yourself to the master of a craft. To have that level of attention. To have somebody who cares that greatly about you and cultivating your ability. Hell, not just your ability, but your character. I already know what you're going to say: read. That's cute, but go read all the soccer magazines you want, watch all the professional soccer games you want. Even go watch them in person. Go play the FIFA video games. You'll never be as good as me, who was fortunate enough to receive years of personal training by some of the most wonderful, talented, sacrificing individuals I've ever met. The unguided reading of novels and books on writing theory isn't enough if you want to be the best you can be.
I'm bored, so it's that time again. Inspired by a conversation I've had with somebody, I was thinking about my experience in the dating sphere. As a guy who is far more passive than assertive, I rarely ever approach. That's what men are expected to do, generally speaking. Instead, for most of my life I've relied on circumstance: sitting next to one another in a class, happening to be in the same group for an event or project, working together, or meeting through a mutual friend. I've been approached a few times in my life, by girls I wasn't interested in. There was once where I felt like I made a mistake at the time. Bodies, uh, change a lot in high-school. And by "body" I am actually referring to the face and the sudden absence of braces. Oh, who am I kidding. My mentality also changed, I matured a bit and really started appreciating personality. I like having somebody to talk to. And I mean really talk to. I hadn't known this girl very well at the time that she came up to me and I turned her down. It wasn't until much later that I got to know her better. Live and you learn. You gotta' have an abundance mentality, not a scarcity one. This is just one of many reasons why "The One" narrative is so detrimental. There are numerous reasons why I'm so passive. My place in the male-attractiveness hierarchy (and just to be clear, I am couching a lot of things into "attractiveness" besides superficial looks). A lack of confidence, a lack of faith. I don't handle uncertainty well at all. That's bad enough without the current cultural divide being fostered between the sexes; as someone who isn't a feminist, I basically feel like I might as well fold now. Well, I am a feminist, but definitely not what the third-wave has degenerated it into. Listening to Ben Shapiro talk about marriage, and also having part of my mind constantly thinking about these matters at all times, I understand that values are the most important thing. Next appears to be personalities that blend well. Then comes interests, which for whatever reason are the most focused on, probably because that's usually the way people meet in the first place. And, I suppose to some extent they can vaguely indicate the probability of certain personality traits or values. Of course, having said all that, I'm going to contradict it all and say that it's not a science. "It just happens." That's certainly been more true, even in my limited experience, than anything I've suggested otherwise so far. But as somebody who prides myself on trying to think independently, coming to my own conclusions and trailblazing my own way, it leads to a situation in which compatibility becomes very difficult. Even I know that if you meet the right person, what you're willing to sacrifice will surprise you. I don't expect, nor would I want, to agree on every single little thing. Even if that were possible, which it isn't. But you aim for "generally speaking". And generally speaking, even when trying to maintain an abundance outlook, I find the possibility hard to believe in. Find somebody with Christian values, except I pick and choose, and don't believe in no-sex-before-marriage. Find a free spirited girl and they've likely been conned into being a hardcore feminist by some cultural studies courses at university. Significant value disparities abound. When I say values, I also would like to make very clear that I'm not talking about being a perfectly virtuous person. That's different. We all have our shortcomings, me included. This isn't what I'm talking about. On that subject, I just look for somebody who loves themselves well-enough, but also works on shortcomings that they might find in themselves. I'm more than happy to try and help another person, in any kind of relationship for that matter, work on things like that. I wouldn't be the one to force it on them though. They would have to come to me first, saying, "Hey, I've been trying to quit these addictions I have", or *whatever*. You get the point. It's all much easier to live vicariously through anime. I see this a lot in the anime community. Lots of guys like me who feel like they no longer belong in the society that activist groups on any and all sides of the aisle are "deconstructing", to the point that most Americans really have nothing in common anymore. No common goal or vision. This isn't just exclusive to the dating sphere, but any social sphere. I find that the less I try, the more confidence I have. But the less I try, the more passive I am. I still "put myself out there" in my passive manner; I at least put myself into the various social situations where something might happen. I pay attention for opportunities. Do I act on them? Rarely. Not that I can't, because I've given numbers to girls in the past, met parents, dated, asked girls out to homecoming, prom, and all the rest. So it is by no means whatsoever beyond my capabilities. But I'm not assertive unless pushed. When I'm alone, I can be myself.
Took my first cold shower in a couple weeks today. I've been sick lately. I'm not sure since I haven't done any research, but I feel like hot showers are better when you're sick, at least in terms of the steam helping the respiratory side of things. If you're having trouble staying hydrated though it might be better to just take a warm shower so you don't sweat. Anyway, feels good. Part of me knows I could do better. I still turn the hot water knob a half turn or so, which is barely anything. It's not freezing cold. Yet there's a *huge* difference between that half-turn and literally zero hot water. We're talking genuinely cold to ice. It's ridiculous. I turn the hot water completely off at the end before I get out and I can barely stand it for three seconds. It's good for the mind. I need to strengthen it. When doing something difficult you need to jump right in. Instead of focusing on how difficult or uncomfortable something is going to be, I need to focus on the benefits of it. The cold water is better for your scalp, hair, and skin. Also, going from the warm bed to a cold shower is good for blood circulation. I tell you what. When I get out of that shower I feel refreshed and alert now. And instead of being in there for 30+ minutes, I'm in there for 10. Saves a lot of water and saves me a lot of time. And today I'm fasting for the first time ever, basically. It's also supposed to be good for the mind and the body although my knowledge of the science behind it is worse than a layman. I *can* say that it has the same strengthening effect as the cold shower. Also, I figure that if I eat $5-10 on average a day, but I'm fasting one day a week, that's $250 or more saved a year. So today I'm having water, tea, and chewing gum. A book I'm reading, "Willpower Doesn't Work", says that if you need to get something done then you should set the deadline so that it makes you uncomfortable. Well, I figured the most uncomfortable deadline I could set for fasting was today. I'd like to make my fasting on Sundays, which is my "unplug day", but I have soccer on Sundays right now for the next couple months. Thursdays will do in the meantime. I always try to make a constant effort of not being a hypocrite, something I learned from debate and incorporated into how I live. I criticize soft living a lot. So, it's time to make a genuine effort at making my own living less soft.
Joined the site on a whim and suddenly my head hurts and I feel exhausted. A little too left-leaning and degenerate for my health, it would seem, but I'm more focused on sharing my writing. And there's still plenty of interesting and good stuff to read. Just have to painstakingly sift through the trash first, which I hadn't expected going into it. That's okay. Also, talk about information overload. I'll have to limit myself to reading just a couple things a day, max.
I kind of understand why, kind of don't. So I sent my professor an email asking if we could meet for office hours. In sum, I said: "Hi, thanks for the feedback! I understand you don't want me to include novels that aren't from this class. Ultimately, I'm at a loss as to what to do. I guess, in a sort of existential crisis sort of way, I don't really understand what this assignment even is. And I'm starting to get "Vietnam" flashbacks to some of my previous English courses where I honestly don't know what it is that my professors want me to write." We had to write about trauma using one of the books from class. The one I chose was Forever by Judy Blume. That's basically all I know. I don't really understand what kind of an assignment that is. I basically argued why Judy Blume doesn't satisfactorily address trauma because there is no growth or triumph. My professor said that this is "basically what they had argued over a decade ago". Well, I've read their paper (I referenced it in my essay), and it was very good (much better than mine), but I didn't get that from their argument at all... Their argument was that Blume's problem novels don't show its protagonists overcoming their problems, and that that's okay. My fundamental argument, and perhaps I didn't make it clear enough, is that it is problematic. In another academic paper I referenced (which our professor also gave us), Kidd argues that the problem novel is supposed to inspire "hope", and I don't find anything particularly hopeful about a nihilistic "obliteration" of the bildungsroman, in which it is stylish nowadays to have protagonists who fail and don't change or grow. Anyway, I'll now attach the essay. I know where to start (by removing any and all references to novels outside the class, which I guess I should've seen coming). But beyond that, I don't really understand why it's a 60%. At first, I was pretty rattled, pretty annoyed with the grade. But I at least know that if I just rewrite exactly what I have already done, but maybe make my argument more explicit, and remove any and all reference to books other than Forever itself, I'll probably get at least a C. Whatever. I've basically come to the conclusion that the reason I don't get As on my writing is because I don't want to write what they want me to say. I'm not saying that I am right to believe that; rather, since I never understand what English professors want even after numerous essays, redrafting, meeting for office hours, etc., this is my default assumption. I simply fail to understand what they want from me, and I'm at the point where I honestly don't give a shit. If I pass with a B, I don't care.
This won't be long. My roommate and I were talking about my unexplainable reaction to seeing a pretty girl. Depression. Well, unexplained as-of-yet. I could cook up some guesses. But it'd all be food I've served you, reader, before. I know, you want to eat something else. This establishment has really gone downhill. I'm sorry. Your meal is on the house tonight. All I can really do is put on a brave face. Smile and suffer. It is only thanks to faith, an absurdly radical acceptance, and the people in my life who love me, that I am still here. My life is this way not by means of conspiracy, but by means of happenstance. It just is. Fairness has nothing to do with it. Justice has nothing to do with it. Not everybody deserves love because it has nothing to do with deserving. You can deserve love and still not get it. You can not deserve love and yet still get it. I get depressed whereas other guys have an equally inexplicable surge of confidence (apparently) or joy. There need not be an explanation. I only desire an explanation because I want it to change. I only want it to change because I think it is unfair. But it just is. There is nothing to be done about it. As Kierkegaard said, do or do not do a thing, you'll regret it either way. So there's really no reason to get so worked up about my condition. My ego, naturally, is wounded by the way things are. And it should be. That's a perfectly understandable reaction, especially given the role that the ego plays. It doesn't make sense to get mad at it. At this rate, I cannot see a way out. I cannot see a way around this particular predicament of being. I cannot even really wrap my mind around it to at least understand it. What good does it do to understand a thing you can't change, if your whole intent in understanding was in hopes of changing it? That's a waste. I see beauty. I get depressed. Bittersweet. I cannot have one without the other. So it is, that I'll watch those around me get to experience something withheld from me. So it is, that I'll get to experience it vicariously in anime. As Shinobu says, "it's possible for a fake to be more real than the real thing." Isn't that wonderful? God, I am blessed. Time to sleep. I can always rest assured knowing that I can fill my dreams with what life should have been. With who I wish I was but can never be. I can set aside my worries, or the frustration of being stuck and unable to change my life, and bridge the unbridgeable distance between who I am and who I'd like to be. Waking time is the only time allotted for such anxiety. When I am asleep, I am free. I am safe. I simply exist in a reversal of what others experience. They get to experience certain wonders in their waking hours. For me, I am only allowed them in my imagination. And dreams have a magical way of feeling more real than the real thing. But even the times where I seem to not dream of anything, I am grateful for such a deep, restful sleep. You do not understand me. Nobody does; not even myself. But that's okay. Some of you have shown you don't need to understand to show mercy. Faith is such a beautiful thing. I am genuinely grateful for your mercy. You do not know how beautiful it makes you. Therefore I can show myself mercy. I will not understand myself. I cannot understand myself. There is no reason why I feel depression at the sight of beauty. There is no reason why I am unhappy. It just is. I only know that to dwell on what cannot be changed, or to get wrathful with myself about why I won't change, only serves to worsen my condition. Instead, I will not change. I will simply grieve the void between who I am and who I wish to be. And due to the unbridgeable chasm between who I am and who I wish, no, need to be, I will also have to grieve the equally unbridgeable gap between how my life is and what I wish my life were like. And in that grief I will live indefinitely. And I will smile. There is no reason, there is no rule, there is no law, that says I cannot smile if I am grieving. That I cannot smile if I am unhappy. That I cannot smile if I am depressed. That is my radical choice. Because there is no other choice. All of my seeking for answers, all of my efforts and struggles, have been in vain. For naught. Years and years and I am no closer. I have done everything, and nothing changed. I cannot change my cowardly nature. I cannot change my spiteful nature. I cannot change my solemn nature. I cannot change my neurotic nature. I cannot change my lustful nature. I cannot change my jealous nature. I cannot change my envious nature. I cannot change my selfish nature. Every time they all just snap back. So, this must be my fate; a resignation to grief. I am not allowed to grow up and change like all of the other adults on this forum. No matter what I try, no matter what logic I arm myself with, everything snaps back to being fucked up. There's never any lasting change. And none of you, and nobody else, can tell me why. I am simply broken and cannot make the same permanent progress that you can. I can only be a knight of resignation. Nevertheless, I am grateful for what I do have. I might not always show it, but I know it to be true, and I will show it now. Furthermore, there is no reason why I cannot or should not delude myself into thinking I'm not single. Of course, I would not force others to be a part of that delusion. But in my own time, in my "alone" time I no longer have to be alone. I'm not talking about losing touch with reality. I'm talking about playing pretend. Pretending that I have a wonderful wife and two cute kids. And when I look again at a beautiful lady, I need not feel depressed. In my mind, in my private thoughts, in my own imaginary world, they're already my love. I'm just visiting them at work. Or they're visiting me at work. Or we went to a party together. Whatever the scenario. I can provide for them. They can appreciate me. I can love them. They can love me. I'll have someone to talk with on my long drives. I'll have someone to listen to at night when I go to bed. We might disagree or have our bad days, our days apart because we each need our own space, and that's normal too. I'll at least get to experience it. A fake that is more real than the real thing. This world can stop me from changing. It can refuse to be what I want it to be and there is nothing I can do about it. But there is nothing it can do to stop my imagination. There is nothing it can do to stop the respite of my sleep. There is nothing it can do to stop me from playing and dreaming. And because a fake can be just as real, if not more real than the real thing, there is nothing in this world it can take from me or keep from me. God has blessed me with his radical absurdism. I had anxieties about going crazy, but "crazy", absurdism, was really never anything to fear at all. I know what this world that we call reality is. I know where it starts and ends. But there's nothing that says I have to spend all my time inside of it. I'm not allowed to play by your rules. Go to the gym + be nice + be this + do that = unicorn... well, that just doesn't work for me like it might work for you, dear reader. But, I admit that like Socrates, I don't really know anything. Maybe one day one of you readers will come along and have the magical answer; you'll possess the key and unlock the door I've been throwing myself against all this time. It was reassuring for a time to be told platitudes like there's someone out there for everyone, it'll happen eventually, it'll happen when you least expect it, it'll happen when you stop trying or looking for it, it'll happen when you let go, it'll happen when you hold on, it'll happen if you keep searching, it's a numbers game, you just need to go to the gym, you just need to be more interesting, you just need to be yourself, you just need to be able to make her feel safe and secure, you just need to lower your standards, you just need to be happy being alone, a girl would be lucky to have you, things will change when you graduate high school, things will change when you graduate college, things will change when you get your career going, things will change if you move cities, things will change if you move out of state, things will change if you move countries-- I get it. You're just trying to be supportive. I really appreciate that. But can't you see, can't you get how it's all kind of... an empty promise? So I've fired all the cooks in the kitchen. I'm off in my own little world now, and I get to make the rules. And what's funny, is that all of the rules are the same. I only have a beautiful family, a wonderful wife and two amazing kids, because of luck. Not because I went to the gym in my imaginary world, and went to university, and moved states, and wore the right clothes, and magically became more confident and less shy and anxious, and I magically resolved all of my mental health issues. Nope. In my imaginary world, just like people in this world, I have a beautiful family, a lovely wife, and two kids who I love a lot and who love me, not for any reason other than pure, pure luck. By the grace of God. Because that's reality. And thereby my fake is just as real as the real thing.
So I was at the granite counter in the kitchen at my buddies place, with him, his mom, his friend Jose, and his aunt (his mom's sister). Everybody was pretty drunk, myself included, and suddenly the conversation started to turn more personal. Somehow it went from my buddy challenging his cousins (his aunt's sons) to a drink-off, and that turned into his aunt telling him that her sons aren't as privileged as he is. That my friend can do "whatever he wants". How that happened, only the magic of alcohol can explain. To provide the context without getting into too much detail, this conversation turned into an argument about money and how my friend was raised. My friend is very wealthy because his father owns a medical practice, so they have money that the rest of their extended family doesn't. Well, HE isn't very wealthy. His father is, and so consequently he does live in a castle of a house. But *my friend* still has to work for everything that he himself owns, like his truck. He works six days a week for his father and he's taking some college classes. So his aunt just assumed that he gets to have it all, rather than consider if my friend has to work for the things that he owns and gets to do. The fact that my friend didn't choose what family to be born into didn't seem to have occurred to her. I don't envy people who have money. My dad's parents, my grandparents, they experienced this same sort of conflict in our family. They grew up in a small town outside of Nashville and those who lived in the valley were rich, and those who didn't were poorer or outright poor. My grandfather came from the former, and my grandmother from the latter. I myself didn't experience much of this conflict because it had all pretty much taken place before I was born, and because they moved away from the Nashville area to the Detroit area when my father was 10, ~30 years before I was even born. I only know what I've learned from speaking with my father and some other members of my family. But it really helped me realize how much trouble wealth can cause. Your own family members, the people who are supposed to love you, fall to jealousy and feel entitled to what you earned. This became apparent when what was supposed to be a family reunion after the passing of my grandfather turned into nothing more than a continuation of a dispute about money (for some of my family anyway; thankfully not all). I didn't say anything when my friend's mother left the kitchen crying and went to bed, or when my friend and his aunt got in a yelling match, but looking in from the outside I was watching a fight manifest that very well could've been my own relatives half a century ago. For the record, my friend does not get to do "whatever the Hell he wants". He doesn't get "whatever he wants". Unfortunately the truth is even a little worse; he has resentment for his parents whom he feels discouraged him or were unsupportive when he was growing up. I can understand how pissed off he must have felt when his aunt, who was completely ignorant of all that, merely assumed that he was spoiled. Just because your parents have money, doesn't mean you had some poster-boy type of childhood, and doesn't mean that you get to have everything by default. That isn't reality at all. Now I can say "I would know." It's important to be able to provide for yourself and have security. But I don't need a boat-house, and a cabin. I don't need a bunch of brand new, shiny cars, or a mansion with 6 bathrooms, 10 bed rooms, two garages, two kitchens, a study, an office-- I'd simply like to live comfortably within my means. It's heartbreaking to see the people around you be destroyed by envy and entitlement. It hurts to see people have more than they could possibly know what to do with. His parents can't look after and take care of all that shit. They're too busy working. And I'd hate for my children to be taken advantage of by others, whether in ignorance or malevolence, or to have a difficult time trusting and finding love because people don't love them for who they are, but only want to take what they wrongly assume that they have.