Never Denounce Your Friends – Stand By Them

Friendship is like standing on wet cement. The longer you stay, the harder it’s to leave, and you can never go without leaving your footprints behind.” – Unknown

Beginning Your Quest

“Stand By Me” is what crosses my shitlord mind when I think about the ultimate meaning of the word “friend”.   Hopefully something of similar aspiration and brilliance crosses your mind as you agonize late into the night about your lack of instagram followers, likes, and retweets.

The 1986 classic is a tale of boys who bond while on the adventure of their lives – to find a dead body first. A dead body was the goal of their quest, but the story of their lives is related by how they got there.   Their story, retold by our venerable writer, is what we all desire deep down at our frothy cores.

Even more important, it makes their quest worthy of completion, instead of merely just beginning.  Think about the movie Sandlot and Scotty’s quest to make friends.  Their adventure expands and culminates in getting that baseball back.  Scotty didn’t know it yet, but the neighborhood kids became his family and the quest he began with became something grand – and a classic in American cinema.

Every man needs his quest. He might not know it yet, but ever man at his core has a quest in mind for his life.  Myth, legend, history, and memorable fiction is filed with the larger-than-life stories of Achilles, Caesar, Genghis, Harry Dresden, and Huck Finn for a reason.

Real friends” make that quest worth undertaking, as well as make the quest into what we never imagined. Experiences and encounters with friends shape the stories to be told to our grandchildren. Chunk was essential to the group in the Goonies just as Huck Finn was impossible without Tom Sawyer.

Tom and Huck

They also shape what our quests become and give you those “life is worth living” feelings that everyone want of us wants.   You may start off in the Shire, but the way to Mordor is packed with many different stops.

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Before I go any further, let me shout something at the rest of you, “STOP CARING WHAT OTHER PEOPLE WILL THINK!”   When you don’t shift with the wind and popular opinion and consensus to “fit in”, the friends you will attract will be a of a high caliber and more likely to be TRUE actual friends.

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Friends should be thicker than water. Crazy stunts on your bikes, nerding out laughing and gaming on xbox late into the night, and enjoying a pickup game of baseball created a bond that you didn’t easily forget.

I still haven’t forgotten me and my best friend Tim bingewatching anime late into the night while slamming mountain dew.  A decade later, we had switched to bud light.  Conversations late into the night about plans for the future were the norm.    (Think “Second-Hand Lions“)

Yea, I know, “Nerrrddssssss!”

Friendship was a bond between people that extended beyond the normal worries of life.  Bonds weren’t necessarily established because you both held up similar signs at a protest, but because  you had been through thick and thin together.

You legitimately had not just commonality, but a sense of enjoyment and purpose in the company of someone you considered a friend.   Speak friend, and enter.   (We all need our Sam, Frodo, and Gandalf in Moria.)

Unfriended

In these dark times, we force the term “friend” to also mean comrade, ally, etc.   Obviously, you can be a friend, but not necessarily an ally willing to hopscotch onto those landmines.  Well, this used to be the case.

That distinction matters because everyone assumes that you have the same exact views as your friend – or that you should. Become the hivemind.  You are identical symbiotic cells according to Facebook feeds.

The current political sphere entails that while you may be a gay Asian lesbian who voted Trump, you are still apparently a Nazi who hates humanity. You are either in the camp getting gassed, or you are the one’s laughing maniacally as you usher the Zyklon B into the shower vents.

Either a deplorable Nazi bastard, or a trans black disabled two-spirit.  This thinking has done wonders for those shallow people whose lives depend on political schadenfreude for purpose.

Believe it or not; Trump being the devil or the messiah, the ethics of trannies in the girls bathroom, and whether God exists are great conversations while in a drunken stupor that won’t be uploaded to Facebook.    When amongst friends, disagreement/agreement shouldn’t matter.

Why?

Agreement and disagreement aren’t what drives your friendship.  If they do, you have many like minded acquaintances, but likely no real friends who will stand by you.  A rather unsettling thought.   So what does a friend look like?

Do you know someone with  the history, proximity, life-goals, to some extent common-cause, and shared experiences/ stories that you want to tell your grandchildren?   How about that feeling of purpose, fulfillment, and sense of belonging?

Did you think to yourself, “I’d love to grow old with this guy?”  Were they always at your back in the thick of life with you? Did they stand by you in times of strife when everyone trashed you? Was there couch always available when you needed it and their ear open when life had you bent over?  If so,  that’s a real friend – and they don’t make em like they used to.

Friendly Heretics

Go back to the year 1000 and gaze upon a man who was excommunicated.  Modern self -loathing Christendom hate aside, the heretic was often avoided by the community and usually dead to his family.   At that time, it was essentially a death sentence.

Despite our scorn of those bigoted terrible Christians as we beat on our enlightened snobby chests about how awesome we are ,we’ve actually brought that same mentality back.  This time it only dooms you to bad jobs, little opportunity, and scorn from your elite educated betters who’ve studied long and hard for their liberal arts degree.

If you are one of the lucky converts, you’ll be seen as a sinner who needs an extended time of penance in the mines of ally activism to repent for your sins of privilege. You filthy white devil you.  Prostrate and repent – but make sure to donate.  Forgiveness isn’t cheap.

Huh?

What the hell happened?

The culture wars in their meme and social media glory have fooled people into a shallow sense of friendship.   Sure, you both may like Bernie Sanders, spam his memes on Faceberg,  support #BlackLivesMatter, and denounce bigotry in the movies, but will Joe have your back when push comes to shove?

Will they stand by you? Surely he knows you are a good person at heart, just misunderstood in the shouts for your burning at the stake – but will he voice it in fear for his own hide? You better damn hope so Solo.

The casualties of heresy aren’t necessarily just the one’s you see on the front page of Drudge, but on your social feed as they defriend and block all trespassers of wrongthink.  Surely they can’t be seen to have such deplorable friends. After all, what would people think?

Peer pressure makes for likes on Facebook, but will any of those people drive out of their way to pick you up in the middle of nowhere? Will your “friend” have time for you when you actually need it? True friends are indeed rare.

Will he denounce you to the other virtue signal despondent deviants desperate for Faecbook likes and acceptance because you didn’t support #BlackLivesMatter loud enough, check your privilege, or didn’t prostrate yourself low enough for that offensive joke?

Stand By Me

Rest assured that if I call you a  friend, I’ll always have your back when the storms rage.  It’s exactly why I’ll never denounce men like Forney, Roosh, Aurini, Quintus, etc no matter how many people recoil in horror because they deem their perspectives deplorable.  Guilt by association is nonsense and anyone who appeals to it should be disregarded.

Even more so for the close friends I’ve known for the better part of my life.  When told that it makes me look like I share their reprehensible heresies, my response is simple and emphatic:“I don’t care.”

Be honest with yourself; the shrieking wolves of Twitter will always assume that friendship equates to a cult like hive mind of absolute agreement. Their goal is isolation of their targets.  When they’ve finished, they will still come for you next.

Consider closely who you want to be in this short life. You are never guaranteed tomorrow.  Sure, plan for the future, but exactly what future?  In fact what would your friends and family say around your gravestone?  Deep down, we want a future filled with people, family, and FRIENDS, which make it worth living.

Even if I don’t agree with someone or their supposed racist, sexist, misogynist bigoted uttering – of which I am accused of frequently –  they are still my friend no matter what they have or will say.

That’s what true friends do. Your friendship transcends the frequent winds of “change” on the “right side of history.” The right damn side of history is by their side, and they by you.

History won’t fondly remember the con artists who appeal to the moral authority of the majority to scold those who aren’t on the “right side of history” – if it remembers them at all.  Face it, history won’t remember virtually any of us, but good friends make our short lives worth getting up in the morning to go to that job we hate to feed our families.

My best friend may be very liberal, but he’s welcome in my home at any point, and I in his. The trust we’ve built over the last 20 years can’t be shaken.  Our kids will play together, and our wives worthy of defending regardless the reason.

A word of warning to those who think long-term friends can be replaced:  Those who throw their friends away – especially over politics – will be treated with contempt by their newfound like-minded revolutionary comrades, because none of us at heart will ever be truly radical enough.

“Betrayal” no matter how you want to dress it up is not invisible to new bedfellows.   Trust will never be built, and thus loyalty will never follow, as they assume you will do the same to them at some point.  So goes the common cause.

No matter how much faithful zeal you may have for social justice you will tire, even just slightly of being beaten for your privilege while living paycheck to paycheck – cis straight white males in particular.   It is then you will be chastised and exorcised for your lack of allyship.

Meanwhile your best hope is that the friends and family you shunned know well the parable of the prodigal son. You will know them to be true friends and family when they welcome you back with open arms and no demands to get on your knees and beg for sweet forgiveness.

That is what marks a true friend. Value them above all else.

How To Endure Life’s Boredom, Beatings, and Jaded Outlook

“I’m Bored!”

Those dreaded useless words I hear uttered frequently by everyone ranging from my 14 year old cousin to my pot-head friends of yesteryear to my lovely lass wife.  Yes, she doesn’t want to watch Netflix or some other movie for yet ANOTHER night, but finances are tight as I’m the only one working for the man right now.

We aren’t just bored.  We go to bed expecting tomorrow to be exhausing, unfuffiling, and frustrating knowing nothing worthwhile will be accomplished. Stuck in a trance-like state, we’re going through the motions, even when lazy and lounging around.  Yes, we are tired from caring for an infant, and my pregnant again wife is always exhausted, but still it’s not supposed to be like this.

What’s missing?

An endurance in the fulfillment and contentment in what we’ve accomplished as a family – in a short time.  Our phones and Netflix are just a distraction in our attempt to relax and ignore reality for the moment because it’s too painful.  Idle hands really are the devils workshop. Of course there is some context.

I’m an asshole to myself and in my leadership role.   Hunkering  down each night in the living room to watch da Netflix and waste time informing myself via the news, twitter, and the blogosphere isn’t because I desperately desire it, but rather because money is tight and our infant son needs to be in his crib.  It’s a convenient and even truthful excuse

Even with it being a valid excuse, I KNOW I need to get us off TV at night time and toward something productive so we aren’t “bored”.   Between getting fat and gaining 20 damn pounds over these two pregnancies and working a sedentary call center gig,  I’m the fattest I’ve ever been.   Exercise, I need you.

Excuses Please

Yes, I should be taking us on fun adventures with plenty of walking that you see in da movies, but can we really take a 9 month old infant out on a stroll at 10 PM in 20 degree weather regardless of how well bundled up he is?

Take into account the meth addicts that seem to be prowling the streets and parks and the possible excitement we might encounter goes against our parental instincts.  When you become parents, you have to be far more responsible then you actually may want to be in your struggle against .   The delayed maturity that men in particular deal with hits hard and fast – or at least it should when you become a father.

We remain hunkered inside our bunker, trying to get our minds off life watching movies, still bored, and my wife still stressed though her pregnancy.  (A recipe ripe for producing arguments between couples.)

Ideally, I’d love to go out, grab some food, feel cool, splurge the cash, and not worry about spending money for once.  Showing off our 9 month old son to everyone at that establishment makes us feel like we’ve done – or rather made someone worthy of plenty of gazing.

True story, as every time we take him out, women drool and gush over how cute he is.  Yes, he is very cute.

However, when we go out, is it a useful investment of our time? Who are we hanging out with?  Will sharing time with them build us up?

Going out makes us feel like we are taking a break from our mundane lives living in a place we shouldn’t even be.  It’s why us millennial blow so much damn money on food when we should be saving it for that house that won’t be coming from a job that won’t we be getting because of our useless degrees.   Forgetting about life for that moment really is key.

For my pregnant wife, it takes some of the stress off.   Otherwise, it’s back to our dinky apartment where I will get yelled at for something all stemming back from boredom.  First we loved this apartment, as it was a place of our own.

Now it just reminds us of bad decisions, filthy and thieving neighbors, and all the food places around us which we shouldn’t spend money because we need to be responsible for once and save some of it.

Are They Really Down On Their Luck?

Hell, at least when we do blow dat money, it’s not on meth like much of the surrounding “homeless” population seems to do. In fact, these “homeless” folks often walk a mile down the road to their truck, throw that cardboard sign “Homeless and Hungry” into the back and drive on off.

I’m sure their plight is as bad as they want us to believe, but you’d think they’d make it obvious by dressing worse instead of like they just went shopping at the mall.  Panhandling is the way of the future.

Just the other day I was approached by some guy who asked me if I had change for the bus.  Immediately I was annoyed, irritated, and actually tired.    Where I’m from in Illinois, people beg for “change for the bus” all the damn time only to spend it on booze, cigs, drugs, or other fleeting pleasures.

Frankly, it pisses me off because unless I personally know them or someone I respect vouches for them, I can assume they are trying to shake me down like I’m some kind of hipster white costal elite type who is plagued by guilt and a trust fund who needs his good deed for the day.

Telling this guy I knew what he was up to, he still held frame.  So I decided to give him a 1$.  He then went straight into Walgreens to buy his bus ticket I’m sure.  Add getting that buck out of me to his wall of accomplishments.  What a waste of time.

Currently where I live, there is a horrible meth problem – one of the worst in the nation – as well as “homeless” people everywhere.  Sorting through the actual victims vs the pretenders makes me a jaded man.  I promise I’m going somewhere with this post.

Looking In A Cracked Mirror

However, it’s made do some soul searching.  Me and my wife have gotten food from the local church pantry here.  Did someone else need it more? Yes we have 100$ left in our bank account, but we did do frivolous spending prior.

Taking her out multiple times for dinner, buying her a maternity coat for the winter that actually fits, and getting us numerous other things at Walmart that while we could utilize, we didn’t absolutely need has got me thinking.

If I’m honest, I need to wonder if we are abusing the local safety nets – even slightly.  Yes, it’s just me working and I can barely pay all the bills sometimes.  Hell, we were down to 2$ in our bank account for about three days to get us through to pay day.

On the other hand, baby food is expensive, as is formula, clothes, etc.  Wages aren’t great and the cost of living still isn’t low enough to really save any money on one income with one infant and another on the way.   Is this all included in the thought process when charitable places don’t have a problem giving us food, aid, and help?

I’ve seen people with a far worse plight then my own;  families literally on the street outside my apartment complex.    I have a smart phone, wifi at my apartment, and we only have to pay the electric bill when it comes to utilities.  Sometimes I’ll even have around 150$ something left over after bills to get us through to the next check.   Our two door car is in good shape, and while small, it get’s us where we need to go with no car payment. Yes, it could be much worse.

The admirable American dream is still currently out of reach for me.  My wife is planning on getting a nursing gig here and seeing if they will pay for part of med school, but nothing is assured.

Our families have been very helpful.  My parents have bought us diapers, formula, and even shipped some non perishables to our house.   Our relatives have all given us some money. My wife’s grandmother who loves us dearly has sent plenty of cash our way when times have been dire.

Essentially, we are blessed.   We just keep forgetting because there is plenty of time on our hands stuck inside our apartment to ponder on what hasn’t gone our way yet.

So shouldn’t I render the same to the discarded rubbish on the street nearby?  I want to, but I’m not entirely sure who really needs help and who is just pretending.  Then again, that thought goes through my head – are we pretenders as well?

We aren’t standing out with signs, but we have gotten help.  Did people think we were worse off then we were? Surely, I hope we have not misled anyone.

Crawling Toward The Endzone

Even with self-reflection, it’s hard to be content and grateful for what we have because we aren’t anywhere close to reaching our goals and living our dreams.  Then again, even if we do, what then? Will we have a similar trance state of life, just with less worry, wondering what then shall we do?

Ease and relaxation are wonderful.  But they are not goals.  They are temporary, transitory conditions of the spirit.” – Quintus C

My wife isn’t thinking about how lucky we are to have a car – she’s thinking about how she’s pregnant again, unable to go to school and/or work, how finances are tight, and how much we miss our friends and family.  This in spite of how much we’ve actually accomplished this far together.  Why the sense of not just failed dreams, but of a lack of fulfillment in the one’s we have lived?

We need a mindset shift.  In a post about the struggles of life, Quintus Curtius  talks about the “Endzone” and about how we create goals for ourselves and yet still feel unaccomplished.

We must never allow ourselves to feel broken, defeated, debilitated, or beaten by life.  I will not allow this.  I will not permit this disease of defeatism in my life.  Will not.  Ever.”

Boredom and that trance like state spiral toward feelings of despair and failure before driving us toward any other kind of reality – Netflix for example – to take our minds off it instead of actually fixing it.  Eventually, it seeps through our diversion shields and breaks them.

When we falter toward the above,  boredom and distraction from it lead to that feeling of being beaten up by life lying down and reaching in vain for that fresh green endzone.

I’m not even in the endzone – I’m struggling within 80 yards of it, on my hands and knees dragging my burdens along.   But life is just that – a constant struggle to the day we die trying to arrive.   This is no cause for despondency and acceptance of vanity however.

Through the struggles in life is where we make and leave our mark.  Our character is refined in the furnaces of life and  reputations are forged.  Obstacles are overcome and foundations set. Stories are born and tales of your golden days are told to your grandchildren gathered around you.

You just can’t see it yet.

“But this does not mean that life is an endless sequence of gloom and doom, of conflict on top of conflict, signifying nothing.   No, far from it. It only means that life is for the living. Life is for the stout of heart. For the coeurs de leon.” – Quintus Curtius

 

 

The Sting Of Betrayal

My Own Benedict Arnold Moment

Every man will experience his own “Benedict Arnold” moment. While it might not take place in a revolutionary war to determine the fate of nation being born, it will still leave a blackened stained touch in your memory.

What motivates betrayal? Often it’s money, greed, jealousy, and the desire to attain power. To do that you have to step on people to move up the ladder of power. Certainly, I was stepped on like a scared housewife stomps on an ugly bug while squeaking out a brief, “Eeek!!!!”

My own betrayal  moment caught me off guard.   None of the above seemed like the motivator for the betrayal.  What could the reason have been?  It felt as cold, sharp, and damaging as an Ozark ice storm.  Even now, the though of “WTF, why?” keeps running through my mind.  Often, I prefer for my dirty laundry to stay in the bin, but in this case I will have to reveal my boxers.

I’m a blabber, a conversationalist, and an open book.  Some people love this about me, others loathe it, but few have ever managed to use it against me in a way that cuts deep.

Thing is, I don’t know how much was deliberate and honest-to-god opining on me and how much was cruel intentioned barbs designed to hurt my relationship with my in-laws and my wife. Timing was absolutely horrible as I’m just starting to build a better relationship with my in-laws who weren’t huge on me.

My old boss who I was my absolute unfiltered self around, a man I thought I could trust and actually have “real-talk” with, and someone who I respected – even though he let me go, delivered whatever his own brand of personal vengeance was against me managed to tell the “truth” about me in the worst possible ways.

No grudges did I hold against him when he let me go, in fact I even kept in good contact with him.  However, he indeed held grudges against me which I was unaware of until he told my in-laws about them instead of myself.

Normally, this would be a landmine that would be overcome after one detonation, but he will be in a “life” group with my in-laws for the foreseeable future.  Essentially, I will have someone who can’t be trusted in an environment where trust is supposed to be of the essence.  Circle of trust indeed.

I did somewhat conquer my fear of heights

I’m used to detractors that I barely know,  online critics, and people whose personalities clash with my own and they can all get bent.   Nothing is what I expect from them.  This though felt like I had been cheated on – which I haven’t, it was just that I trusted him that much.  It hurts.

Imagine someone misrepresents your character as much as possible and, sprinkles in a few lies to really get the pot stirred, and plants all sorts of possibilities in your pregnant wife’s head who already is going through raging pregnancy hormones and trust issues from her past.

In this case, her parents were the recipients of Benedict Arnold and the details were passed to her and then she passed them to me.  Chain of information indeed.   My wife wasn’t supposed to be told, and neither was I.

Perhaps my old boss thought what he was saying was true, or my in-laws drew some exaggerated conclusions that were then passed to my wife. That would be a comforting thought.  Honestly, I thought he would always be honest  with any grievances against myself and come talk to me about it.

I actually thought that I was with someone who I didn’t have to filter myself and everything from “locker-room talk” to how men  actually talk on the job site when you work in the trades.   This is what bugs me so much.   That connection I thought I had with someone wasn’t actually there – maybe I forced myself into believing it was, considering I was earnestly looking for a fellow man I could trust in an area where I don’t know anyone.

The Sword Thrusts of Betrayal

Likely it is not the case.    Two lies in particular left me shocked. (1) That he paid me 20$ and hour when he paid me 13$.  (2) That me and the other guy he had hired were going out after we were dropped off from work to the bar and blowing money.    Odd, considering me and this other guy didn’t like each other.

The truth that was manipulated against me in fascinating way too.  Apparently one such truth was how I constantly wanted to go out after work with my boss to the bar and grab a drink.

Absolutely, this was true.   I wanted to bond with my boss as I believed he was someone I could be my genuine self-around. One of the best ways you can do this is to indeed grab a drink and sit down.

In his defense however, he could never really do this as he was trying to be back at home by 6 to be with his family.  I can understand this and perhaps he believes me to be some kind of deviant who would rather be out drinking then helping out his pregnant wife at home – or at least that how it sounded when I was told about it.

Another “truth” was about how I misled him about my skillset, even though I told him what I knew from the start.  Now both me and him were hoping I’d absorb some skills faster, but I alas I did not.   Still, he felt like I lied to him, so my guess is he is doing the same back to me.

One that really got to me was about how I was lazy.  When he first hired me, he was desperate for people just to show up who were trustworthy.  He complained about how people would flake constantly – which they did.  I arranged for him to pick me up in the mornings – which took a toll on him timewise nonetheless – to go the jobsite with him 40+ miles away.

When I was there, I worked in 90+ degree humidity outside on scaffolding.  Now he was generous and bought me and our co-worker lunch everyday as well as provided us with water to keep us hydrated. To be sure he wasn’t a slave driver, and he shouldn’t sound like such.

At several points I did complain about a lack of boards to stand on when we started going four stories up.  I  brought up the idea of safety-harnesses, but he mentioned that it would just get in the way and make us even less safe.

I have no idea if that’s really true or not, but wow right?  Also note that he went up there with us in those precarious positions trying to get work done, so definitely he put himself on the line as well.

Now, I’m not exaggerating how open I was with him.  I even talked about me and my wife’s sex lives – a mistake in hindsight – and how it helped us as a couple.    This was kindly relayed to her parents that all I cared about is sex and apparently how I’m not to be trusted.   In particular, this blew me away.

Wisdom, Resolve, and the Long-Game

A hard lesson to learn from betrayal is that your natural state – open and honest – can be very dangerous to you and your family life.  Even after this, I find the idea of talking less, being more deliberate about the company I am genuine with, and concluding that many more snakes exist in the grass then I admit to be a tough pill to swallow.

Recently, I saw him at my in-laws “Life group” meeting they hold at their house.   Determined for my wife’s sake, I played nice.  It was then that I heard a story involving my old bosses’ wife and some terrible things they had been through.

Wondering whether this had something to do with the backstab held my anger in check.  Because of that, I’m taking the long view.   Honestly, I still desire vengeance or at least some kind of vindication from this betrayal.   You never realize how powerful of a motivator justice can be until you start to strongly desire it.

Given the chance I wonder, would he come clean and apologize to me or pretend it didn’t happen and act as everything was jolly?

What if the chain-of-information provided to me was wrong or someone did indeed exaggerate and elaborate details? Patience is necessary when trying to smoke out what was really said.   I shall indeed play the long-game.

Take A Break, Relax, Recover, and Come Back To The Fight

Internet Burnout From too much Politics

Take A Break Or This Broken World Will Drive You Crazy

For the last two months prior to election day, Drudge was linking to various articles about how people were suffering from election induced anxiety, depression, and even sleep loss.  Facebook feeds were particularly active and potent regardless of what political bubble you are dwell in.

We all expected the end of the world before night, and it’s only gotten worse post-election for half of the voting public to cope with the election of Cthulu.  Detractors of Trump literally believe he’s Hitler, but then again, so is anyone to the right of Hillary.  The sky is literally falling and raining pepes.

My Facebook and Twitter blared with insane headlines that even often I thought were too exaggerated to be true.  Everything was apocalyptic in nature and possible destruction of our grand modern multi-cultural tolerant world, even though Rome didn’t fall in a day.

The scaremongering and dastardly vicious dangers strawmen that anyone else in the “opponent” group ensured that the personal was political.  Stories that were true and shocking – one example being Detroit having more Hillary votes then possible voters made my blood boil all that much more.

Internet Burnout From too much Politics
Take A Break You Deplorables

Post-election, all of the scoundrels and deplorables favorable to “God-Emperor Trump” were faced with families  endearing new crises that unfortunately had nothing to do with drug addled interventions,  sibling disputes, and crumbling marriages.  Call me ole fashioned, but I’m still shocked that people are avoiding family members because of their despicable politics.  Clearly,  those politicians will always be there for you, but your family won’t.

To put in perspective how bad the shattering has been just between husbands and wives, the annoying chat-box known as “The View” had a segment in which voting husbands for Trump was causing them to lose their pussy tingles for their studly husbands.  Yes, apparently a difference in how you voted was causing the dreaded “deadbedroom” threads we read about.  Hammer that nail of sexual intimacy once more to the coffin.

“I think that the sex drive does die and, you know, we are building a wall around our vaginas,” she continued. “The guy [Trump] says it’s okay if he would grab a woman by her you-know-what, and women are either a 10 or a one, or this one’s fat, and you voted for that schmuck?”

“You voted for that? I’m not sleeping with you,” Behar said.

 “That’s what’s happening,” Sunny Hostin agreed.

Yep, you read that right.  Some people have “marriages” that are truly that dysfunctional and the sex tips in Glamour aren’t possible now.   I don’t think adultery/cheating is a good thing, but if your wife, girlfriend, etc. pulled that – using sex as a weapon –I’d immediately hand her divorce papers and start hitting up Tinder as the one night sluts on there will at least give you sex unlike these shrews.

I can’t slap the woman who said that physically, but I most certainly will air slap her from across the deplorable manosphere caverns from which I lurk.  Here’s a bold statement though for women – or men – who refuse you sex because of your vote;  She doesn’t deserve you, your money, or your capability to be an emotional tampon when she’s crying.

What she  so richly does deserve; cats, gawking at other women more attractive then here,  and bitching about male feminists hitting on her that she isn’t attracted to.  A bit overboard?   I’m that sick and tired of it.

But to get back on track, its all too damn much – and that’s just regarding two of the stories that stood out to me the most after being bombarded with one piece of insanity ranging from true to greatly exaggerated after the other. Every story I come across is in all caps, screaming with a bullhorn for my attention – and they all make the world seem like its getting worse after I glance at the headlines.

Surely, I like the rest of you am taking crazy pills, or the world, society, and the culture around us is surely doomed and primed to implode – on a daily basis.    Even in our own circles, everything is almost always pessimistic.  Feminists are getting more power, safe spaces are smothering meaningful conversation, and we are constantly having to explain to shocked observers, friends, and families that we aren’t actually all those bad ist and isms they keep hearing we are – this is all despite Trumps win which is supposed to greatly move the Overton window

  • I’ve noticed how the subject of “Facts” has become extremely subjective. I still don’t know exactly how much Planned Parenthood spends on abortion via Federal Funding because every inquiry on it uses different methods to calculate the statistics.  In a world of unlimited data, we can’t see past a hazy cloud of numbers on all sides.
  •   Reliable sources all depend on what side you are on.
  • Vicious opinionated partial journalism isn’t contrary to the very nature of being a journalist because Trump is the new Hitler.   Woodward is jaded and Bernstein is weeping.  The very journalists and publications shrieking about fake news are spouting it nonstop with nary a noticeable correction in mind because the damage has been done.
  •    Fake news is now completely up to shadowy corporate internet giants that are deliberately as vague as possible as to how much of your information they are sharing with the government without warrant – and that’s if they haven’t been hit with a gag order preventing them from even talking about it.

Well it’s time to take  a damned break for a few days.  As Davis Aurini put it in one article, “Let God Sort It Out.” We hear about how the Red Pill – whatever that even means these days – induces a massive overload of the realization that the world is a dark place, life is VERY unfair, and most of what you can supposedly can control actually can’t be.  Reality ends up being made up of dark and mysterious forces beyond our control.  Your critics will always be there slandering, lying, and misrepresenting you and what you stand for.

What the hell can we actually do about any of this?

Ragequit life?  Not quite.  Take a brief glance back in history for why you need a respite from the toils of cultural and political dogfighting.   As Quintus Curtius – the resident scholar, historian and philosopher of the manosphere points out, sometimes all you need is a retreat to allow you to come back with new ideas for the battlefield.

“Sometimes being away from the fray and the fracases of life can allow us to compose our thoughts and regenerate our spirits.  This has the effect of spurring the creative soul on to higher amplitudes of output.  We forget just how distracting it is for the mind to be bombarded with invasive stimuli; and while periods of withdrawal from the fray should not be permanent, they can, in the right doses, provide just that right proportion of flint and steel to spark great works.”

Believe it or not, wisdom from the life of Machiavelli can be applied to this situation when he was forced to take a break from the politics of the day.   That lesson can be examined at the link previously mentioned.

Besides plan, scheme, and demand answers; nothing in the immediate sense.  Which of course represents a knee jerk reaction of feeling like you’ve accomplished no results because everything is measured in the short term – how we feel right now – instead of any kind of long term vision.

Let’s dip our heads into the sand for the moment.  Take a step back. We know what’s going on – we just aren’t going to let it break us.  Instead we will make love to our women, play with our kids,  drink and be merry with our friends, and take those nature hikes.  Twitter can wait.  A more disturbing and terrible story about the madness of our college campuses will be there tomorrow.

You will survive.

Just make sure you give yourself the breathing room and cultural /social media detox withdrawal to allow yourself to thrive when the world is refusing to budge your way.  Take a break, and then come back for another at-bat.

 

Being Thankless and Homesick on Thanksgiving

This will be the first thanksgiving that I’ve spent away from my family.   Here in Missouri, I will instead be spending it with my son and my wife’s parents and cousins who are here.    During the last few months, I’ve been gutted by a feeling of being homesick.   Today, it will probably hit the hardest.

Alas, this feeling however does give way to a realization;  We never appreciate our family enough until they aren’t around.  The atmosphere of my dad’s family staying up late into the night, kicking back some beers, the ambient noise of conversation – it’s something I’ve realized alot of other families don’t have.   I’ve lived in Illinois my entire life, and while I hated the state with a passion, my family is what kept me there.

In modernity, we often leave our families and move to various parts of the country in search of economic freedom and success – in my families case the best opportunity is currently here in Missouri.    Grandparents often barely know their grandchildren, nephews and nieces only see their aunts and uncles twice a year, and siblings often are stuck with only Facebook to establish that connection to bring back memories of home.

Sometimes I wonder if the fact we can go anywhere with a press of the gas pedal has inadvertently led us to paths that often don’t include the family structure, proximity, and support that existed for most up until the 1960s.  Will we ever experience that again as a culture? I can only lament.

It takes a village to raise a child – especially for those who desire a big family.  That’s almost impossible nowadays. Many millennials often move so much, that we never establish roots and become so close with our neighbors that they are like blood.

Some however survive the homesickness and overcome it.  A while after originally posting this, I reached out to Quintus and suggested it as a podcast topic for him – which he actually just did – and a gentleman who goes by Motivated Maverick gave me some advice.   Suffice to say, he’s been in the military for 14 years and has been away from his family for long stretches. He gave the following 9 points for consideration.

  1. Build a routine. Even small things like your meals, a cup of coffee, a walk or a cigarette. Enjoy them.
  2. Focus on the people around you. Make others smile & laugh. People around you probably feel homesick too.
  3. Exercise. Exercise. Exercise. 3 hard miles will solve nearly all your mental problems.
  4. Accept what’s happening; embrace it. Philosophy used to help men cope. Still does. Read Boethius.
  5. Make a rule in your mind: YOU ARE NOT A VICTIM. YOU DO NOT FEEL SORRY FOR YOURSELF. This is important.
  6. Keep a journal. This will help a lot..BUT NO VICTIM JOURNALS
  7. Read good, uplifting books.
  8. An engaging long term project is your best friend. A side business you’re working can make time fly.

Alas, but we press on.  Perhaps some football tonight will get my mind off it.  Happy thanksgiving to those of you I love, cherish, and know.   Modernity does have it’s price I suppose.

To all those in my spheres, from RVF to Maverick – happy travels and I hope that while you make your life abroad, homesickness doesn’t bring you down.  Deus Vult

The Steps Of Life – The Early “Patriarch”

Patriarch. Patriarchy. Such delicious terms that always cause a firestorm when you throw them around. Granted they mean as much as the word “fascist” does these days, but they are still great words to make a point with.

I’m not a Patriarch.  I don’t think anything even remotely like it is possible in the World anymore – even despite it’s original failings.  That said the word brings about some worthy triggering, so I intend to use it as much as possible.

Recently, my life has become like one of those sack races at a school party.  My wife is in the sack with me – almost twice a day on average – and often we are trying to hop in different directions when it comes to our plans, ideas, and how we want to spend our time that day.  Our marriage is yet young. As we seek to better communicate and understand the stubborn other, a new path in life opens.

As the experts hum repeatedly, much of marriage is all about communication.  Usually, you don’t start off to well in that department.  The specific verbal and non-verbal manner of that communication is a different skill all in itself – one that is often unpolished.

Through the communication we stumble through now, I’ve learned something important. Your priorities will shift so much in your life – especially with an infant that much of what you did and who you were before marriage wont be the same.

If you want to be that great family patriarch of old, most of your available time in a day must be spent nurturing your family – specifically your wife in the early years and your children.  Just as anything substantial in life requires much time and investment, your family is no exception. (Infants are quite the time investment when they won’t fall asleep at night and continue to cry.)

I’m now building my legacy, but that is a time and life investment that will consume my time in life.   Less going out with friends to the bar.  Less video game binges into the wee hours. Less wasting of time period.  My hobbies now tend to include research about the best ways to get my son crawling early and my social activities tend to involve my wife.      (Father and son hobbies will come as my son grows older.)

In a way, I’m being forced to be more productive and deliberate as to how I spend my time – an odd side effect of having a family that I had no clue about.   It is however a welcome one, in that it forces some discipline upon you, something I’ve struggled to do over my life.   Dragged by my heels to be better, so to speak.

Much of my generation is hedonistic in we view ourselves.  Usually, it’s all about what makes me happy and satisfied now and anything that get’s in the way is a problem – or in the cases of some RP enthusiasts – supposed Beta behavior.   What most players don’t realize is that when you get married, your wife needs your time. It can feel a bit strangling at times with a loss of space being your gut instinct, but new instincts will develop as your marriage goes on.

Essentially, if you want to build that next generation and a culture that will last your excess pleasures, desires, and frivolous hobbies will have to take a back seat.  It becomes less about what makes you happy and more about what is necessary for the success of your family.  I’m selfish and I’ll admit it, a hard RP to swallow is that what makes me happy isn’t necessarily going to make my wife happy or even my children.  (Have another one on the way in that department.)   Basically, we mature as men because we must.

Some men might take it as the nail in their coffins of their prior lives, but it simply means that a transition is taking place.  What I’m realizing now is that if you want a family, a legacy, love, growing old together, and many of the usual romantic dreams, much of your bachelor self will shed it’s skin permanently.    So in order to get your new skin, you have to shed the old.

I no longer have as much time for video games and my usual pleasures of flesh. Instead, I often limit them to an hour a day at most so I can focus on spending time with my wife – who needs my attention and help even more so being that I knocked her up again.

Remember, marriage is a different adventure and the “skills” needed are far different from the arsenal of most players.  You will have to stop being a selfish bastard where everything is about you, while maintaining the self-confidence and fervor of an Olympian. Finding that key balance becomes as valuable as gold and a key component into becoming that patriarch.

In a young marriage, your wife is needy – as is mine – specifically when it comes to pregnancy.  When you decide to have your first kid, pregnancy adds another element to that neediness.  We hear alot about shit-tests but not alot about comfort tests.

I recall a conversation with my wife when she was in tears about how I didn’t comfort her, wrap my arms around her, and tell her everything was going to be okay when our son was in the NICU for 3 weeks after he was born. She wanted me to hold her in my arms and not let her go.   I was supposed to be strong, but while I thought I was, I didn’t pass that strength on to her.

Logically I thought that she already knew she had my support – and I was coming to be with her everyday in the evening when I got off work.   (Remember how powerful and dominant a woman’s emotions are, especially after birth.)  However, I didn’t verbally communicate my thoughts on how she was feeling and how everything was going to be fine. I probably wasn’t physically affectionate enough either and obviously we couldn’t bond and come together through sex in the weeks after birth.    (You really do have to be on your game and making it an intrinsic part of yourself.)

This was a hard lesson for me to learn.   Men… we often have to learn how to love – both in how we show and how we do it. Love is what girls so desperately need, just as respect is something men need when it comes to marriage.

Now do you lose who you are? Everything that makes you… you?

No.

Your family becomes you.

My son Julius.
My son Julius really likes bathtime.

I as a man and father, and my wife as a woman and a mother, are now putting our feet on the next step up the stairs of life.  It’s all happening very fast as is the excitement about it.   About 3 months ago, we moved down to Missouri.  I won’t say where, but I do like what I see down here.  Housing is cheap – though so are wages.

(Luckily, I’ve got a job in which I can make a good amount of money.  It’s a sale job, and I will essentially have to internalize game in a sales oriented manner. )

Arguably, it’s probably one of the most important skills a man can learn that he can apply to many other aspects of life.  I never realized its application that many had waxed eloquently about until training for my current job.  (Also, a quick pro-tip I’ve learned: He who complains the most gets the most. Furthermore, me and my wife are going to be moving into an apartment, which is will be our first place on our own with each other.

I often want to help men who struggle with women out – as I see who I was in them. At the same time, I’m also realizing that men with families really do need other family men to come together to eat, drink, converse, and to sharpen each other’s lives.    The conversation at the table really will differ then it did in our bachelor days. Behold, the next step in life.

The Red Pill Doesn’t Quite Prepare You For Being Married, Pregnancy, and Fatherhood

Julius Temple as a Baby Holding My Finger

Monday, April 18th, 2016 at 1:37 PM, my son Julius was born.  His birth was the culmination and the reward for all of the various fights, strife, conflicts, and plain out stress that me and my pregnant wife had gone through leading up to that very moment.   That said, I don’t think I was as nearly prepared for it as I thought I was.  While fatherhood strikes whether you are ready for it or not, the process leading up to it can be both a joyous and tumultuous affair.   Score one for my continued legacy and that evil Patriarchy with my sons birth though, as we are about to strengthen it’s ever growing resolve.   (My wife already told me just the other day, “I’m ready for another one.”)

That said it’s still been stressful as my son couldn’t go home with us.  He wasn’t breathing enough oxygen and had to be transferred to another hospital.  My wife’s been there every day, sometimes for 12 hours a day, with me heading there the second I’ve gotten off work.  Up until just a day ago, she couldn’t even hold him in our arms. As a new mother, it’s been killing her.

I can see the pain in her eyes, the stress in her movement, and the easy escalation of disagreements – though we’ve fought way less since he’s been born.  My wife is young – almost 20 – and this is our first child, so we as new parents are still barely scratching the surface in just what it means to be parents.   (If you’ve noticed, I try not to say my wife’s first or maiden name so certain assholes can’t target her or her future employers.)

Julius Temple as a Baby Holding My Finger
He Took My Heart Right Here – Father Moment

Yes, married couples – especially newer ones fight way more than anyone want’s to admit.

Now, we hear alot about the taking the Red Pill and what it can do for a man.  We know it can mean much more then just discovering the truth about feminism, social justice, and gender relation as Hawaiian Libertarian has pointed out. But what happens when you miss certain aspects of it, or dare I say, other “Red Pill” entirely?

Marriage isn’t something talked about nearly enough in whatever is left of the “manosphere”, though Roosh and many at ROK have made observations about about how men move past the player stage and what more from life and the worldview of Neo-Masculinity.   When it is talked about often, it’s about how men should never get married and how you should only marry foreigners if you do.

As your son looks back at you.
My son has started to open his eyes.

That’s good and all, but those of us like myself who have not only gladly taken the risk, but are creating families from it, there might be a bit lacking in the RP advice department, especially on when your wife is pregnant. While game doesn’t end when you get married, but instead evolve,  I often ask myself the following:

1. Am I being supportive enough?

2. Am I taking too much shit that I never would have taken before? Again, pregnancy is another aspect.  Women use words as weapon very effectively, and my wife is no exception when she is stressed, in pain, has a baby kicking the inside of her, and is full of hormones.  What is the appropriate course of action?

3. What should I take a stand on and what should I understand is merely a result of pregnancy?   What disagreements should I compromise on or give 100% into her on.  (Stress can cause miscarriages.)  Did she mean any of the nasty things she just said in a fight after she apologized for them just an hour later?

4. What kind of game should be run vs what kind of game is even acceptable? Honesty is important, alas why my wife knows what my worldview is.

5. How should I resolve fights? I have my normal RP way of dealing with women, but my wife isn’t just a woman, she’s the mother of my son and is love of my life.  Red-Pilled wisdom from older married men is something I wish I had way more of.   Yes, I know of stuff like this, but it doesn’t go far enough.

In our young marriage, we’ve had some terrible fights, but they’ve ended pretty quickly. Sometimes I’ve put my foot down, and it does lead to more respect.  The thing is I lack the necessary wisdom of when to use a gentle word to turn away wrath and when to be firm.  My dad gave me a piece of wisdom in that hurtful words said early are bad for the early foundation of your marriage. No brainer, of course.

For the most part when my wife is on the verbal warpath, slashing me with her tomahawk of vicious words, I usually won’t say nasty things back; something I would do in return to anyone who wasn’t my family or my wife.  I made a specific exception because she is my wife, and was pregnant.  One time however, I did slip and I was so mad, I called her a piece of shit.  Despite she had said far worse things to me during the car ride in which we were fighting, all of her nasty barbs didn’t matter. I was blown away.

Surprisingly in many way, Bill Burr was right:

Why was my wife acting like a teenager? Then it me; she’s 19. She still is a teenager.  In fact, I’m her first real relationship.  Her expectations and mine have been different on a few things.  I want my alone time – she strongly objects to this sometime, the pregnancy being part of that.   I often wondered, why does she say the nastiest shit when she’s angry?
(Sometimes whenever she is irked by my actions/words she will say in this disproving motherly tone, “Seriously?”  It irks me even more and makes me want to say, “Yea, fucking seriously.”  Then, I remember that I do indeed love her.    I just wish there were more guys out there like AverageMarriedDad and TheFamilyAlpha who know what it’s like and have advice on how to have a successful happy marriage and a resulting healthy family.  Too often, we get alot of marriage advice from men who aren’t actually married or are bitterly divorced and have a strong bias against it – somewhat understandably so.

Marriage is hard work, but it’s worth it.  Yes, it like any other major life choice is a risk, but it’s a worthy one, despite the quality of good women in our generation, the courts, and a system rigged against men.    Marriage is a risk, but what else in life isn’t a risk? Some of the best thing in life involve risk – whether that be in time investment, finances, relationships, etc.  Don’t let your life be hindered by aversion to risk, simply decide what risks are really worth it.  I do believe marriage is one -provided you find the right woman which definitely is worth it.

Holding your son for the first time is worth it. Oh and stopping fights as they happen with sex – which we do alot – is totally worth it.   In fact, if there’s anything I’ve learned it’s that if the fight is about to escalate, pull her pant’s down.  Her words, not mine.  Well, she was definitely right about that. (Also make-up sex and I’ve never had to beg for sex. Ever.)

I encourage men who aren’t sure about marriage to really look for a good woman. They are out there, though you won’t find them on Tinder, bars, etc.  Are you looking hard enough? Are your glasses filtering out the good girls?  Many of you say you want one, but do you really?  When you marry young, you do face different challenges and you would be wise to ready yourself for them. Being good at being a man is hard work.

Do you want your legacy to continue? Do you want the pleasure of having your child gaze up at you and look deeply into your eyes? Do you want to statistically have far more sex as a married man than single men do – especially when you are young?  Obviously don’t marry for just sex or even just love.  Find the right woman.  You don’t marry someone who is your soulmate. You marry someone who becomes your soulmate. Remember that dear Gentleman, and Godspeed to you.

P.S. For all future and current parents with young children, I highly suggest Quintus Curtius’ blog which will provide a foundation of classical themed education and insight that is so lacking these days.   He is that Aristotle that you’re sons in particular need as their tutor as they delve into those famed classics.

When I Realized I Couldn’t Play Hard With The Girls

2nd Sucks Shirt Song A Day To Remember, playing, sports

“They said you were touching girl’s asses,” the school’s principle, Diane, who had called me in for my transgressions.  Luckily for me, she was a nice lady who was interested in at least hearing what this criminal had to say.

This was nonsense. I was just playing hard.  What the hell was she talking about?  We are playing sports together!

Reflecting On My Sins

In the end, I was blindsided and ended up fessing up to something I really hadn’t done, because I didn’t want to get in any more trouble.  It was as if I had come out on top, but my victory had been tossed away due to steroid use.

My persecutors were two girls in particular who were actually both 8th graders, who also had a hard on for me that wasn’t sexual in the slightest, but rather one in which they vindictively felt better by helping to bully a kid like me who was already somewhat of an “outcast”.   I knew it was them, but what could I do?  It would be one of the first times I realized girls fought behind your back with words, unlike boys who would fight with fists before your eyes.

I hadn’t touched their asses as much as I had bumped into them or their boobs trying to catch the football before they did when we jumped in to the air. They wanted to play with us, afterall.  I figured that if the girls wanted to play with the rest of us boys, we of course shouldn’t treat them any differently.    I was very competitive and to quote A Day To Remember, “2nd Sucks,”  and letting the girls who were also playing with us get the ball instead of me felt like a violation of what every boy usually wants when it comes to a competition; to win.  In order to do that, I had to play hard. 

Boy, was I wrong.

 

2nd Sucks Shirt Song A Day To Remember, playing, sports
2nd does suck, and no competitive young guy wants to come in second.

It didn’t even matter that I wasn’t really attracted to fine bootys, and still am not till this day.  I remember explaining my situation to another classmate who related how he got in trouble for the same thing – though I don’t know if it was intentional, but now I suspect it wasn’t.  Apparently I got off easier as I was becoming a charmer even at 12.

I was a spunky somewhat nerdy 6th grader, who liked to play hard.   Yes, I was still a geeky booky nerd who enjoyed board & table top games along with PC games, but I liked to tumble, so to speak, and I was desperate to prove my capabilities to the rest of my classmates who still viewed my poorly groomed self as someone to be made fun of.  Recess was my favorite part of school usually, and I looked forward to it as a way to finally get out of my seat and prove myself on the playground.

Soccer was very popular at my school, and we all played it.  I knew that proving myself on the field during recess and lunch time would at least give me some measure of respect in the eyes of my “bully” who the soccer god at school and whose words shaped opinions on just about everything. It was one of my first exercises in masculinity – proving my worth.

This included the girls, some of them who were pretty damn good.  At first, I would slide tackle them as I would anyone else, however when I did, I always received some kind of scorn if one of them got “hurt” during the tackle.   Even if I was treating girls equally in how I played and competed with them, I was still “bad”, if they got hurt in the process.  The “protector” instinct manifested itself with the rest of my male classmates and those who violated it – even in an unknown demonstration of “equality” on the playground – would know about it.

I can recall another time when another female teacher – she was a good lady – pulled me aside off the field after several of the girls playing along with us complained I was playing too hard and was acting “crazy” in my desire to win the ball back.   She told me something along the lines of how she understand how I played hard, but the girls didn’t.   Imagine me in a similar situation in the present day.

Now that I think about it, if I was now in sixth grade in a public school, I could have been accused of sexual harassment for my rough play.  It didn’t even cross my mind at the time, but considering how hostile public schools now are to young males,  I could have been railroaded because the teachers would have already assumed I was inappropriately touching female classmates during physical play at recess.  Even more unfortunate is that with teachers and staff being 90% female, they might not understand the rough play isn’t sexual in nature, even if they have sons, because it is the age in which boys often have just hit puberty.

Even if they do realize the above and choose not to play with the girls, they can still get in trouble for excluding the girls, specifically if some demand to play with them.  Of course the boys shouldn’t have to worry about the risks of accidentally touching or brushing up against them the wrong way, and should be happy to use the time as a reason to connect with those girls later and get to know them better.   (At least that’s what I tried to do at the age because most girls didn’t like drawing pictures of Sonic , playing Tony’ Hawks Pro Skater 2, or nerding out to tabletop games.)

Fast-Forward

Occasionally, I’ll play floor hockey that’s technically “co-ed” on Sunday nights and I’ve noticed I’m afraid to play hard against any girls – the ones who actually show up – for fear that if they get hurt, I’ll be looked at like some form of Hitler.

Some co-ed sport activities aren’t a bad time, but if you want to unleash your inner competitive animal, it won’t happen when your afraid of accidentally hurting someone else’s wife or girl in front of the entire gym.   The guys only floor hockey I played in a few times on Thursday’s demonstrated the satisfying feeling of not having to worry about holding back, so much so in fact, that there’s almost been a few fights with the smell of sweat rank in the air.

I feel bad for young boys today who want to play hard with their female classmates, but when they do, realize that there are unexpected consequences for embracing the “equality message” preached in schools, which wont be an acceptable defense when they end up brushing up against the ass of the wrong high-school queen who might exact vengeance through both white knights and school staff on the lookout for sexual harassment.

Note I went to a private Christian school for 6th grade, with well-meaning staff and teachers.

Inspiration from 2nd sucks comes from this song, which I will admit, moshing to anytime it’s played live.

 

We Are Terrified of Actual Romance

That empty seat besides you in your heart…

The Desire For Romance

They say that you aren’t ready to be with someone else if you haven’t fixed your own problems.   Well, with that conclusion, it seems no one is ready to date or find a relationship. In fact, it sounds more like an excuse because we refuse to face the fact that we are terrified of actual romance – or the possibility and potential of it.

How many people these days do you know have relationships that never last more than a few months? Or when things get serious, they scamper away?  Commitment these days is a dirty and scary word.   Many will tell you that you don’t want to be first in vocalizing your desire for commitment.  It all becomes a series of games between men and women.

In your 20s, you are supposed to play the field.   We are told there is always more fish in the sea. That’s true.   But here’s a sobering thought: What if you missed that one special person – that love of your life?  An abundance mentality is key for confidence and avoiding loneliness and depression, but what if you end up “nexting” of the one women who was the love of your life?

75% of married people, according to the Inquisitr,  report “settling” as they have lost their chance at true love.  Yea, that’s depressing.  In fact 46% of those people would leave their relationship for their true love.   That says something about the power of love.

My generation – millennials – seemingly have a terrifying fear of missing out.  We want to remain single, available, and in the mode of continued experimentation – yet we fear a potential future of remaining single. It’s a disturbing catch-22 filled with cognitive dissonance.  We “settle”, but we don’t fall in love.  Again, I suggest that some of us may have missed out.

The vicious truth of today’s consumer and materialistic society is that everyone is focused on their career above all else.  When push comes to shove, most people will gladly sacrifice their romance for a future that’s not even guaranteed.   Men and women are fed the lie that you don’t need someone else – a lie that flies in the face of all of human history and biology. This thinking is willfully promoted by feminism in that women don’t need a man and in reverse by the some in the manosphere that men don’t need women.   I call BS.  As FreeNortherner points out,

“However much some feminists and some MGTOWs rage against it, men and women want to be together with each other. They want to love and be loved.”

We want to be loved, needed, desired, and sought after.  The consistent denial of this is leading to people with unhappy lives, scores of people on depression, and every medical condition under the sun that’s popped up in the last two decades.

Romance Or A Career?

I for one will always choose my relationships over a career.   Now this doesn’t mean one should let themselves go completely, be lazy, ect.  Simply realize that life is short and you want to enjoy it the best you can with someone you care about and love.

I believe there are more people with these thoughts out there, but they are becoming rarer as our society degrades into a smartphone and social media obsessed cespool of vanity, jealous, and envy.   Often we don’t actually want romance – we want material things which we think will lead to it.

1. Love is a spark of physical, psychological, and emotional intimacy.   It’s so intense, that it scares people.  The uncomfortable truth is that relationships take work.  Perhaps love is where you throw everything aside for that special person.  There isn’t exactly a backup plan – another scary thought in today’s often shallow relationships, but it’s crossed my mind.

2. Relationships are work – and anything that takes work is a potential hazard that can bog us down in our quest to experience life.   Yes, we may be experiencing life, but are we actually experiencing any of the romance that we so keenly and subconsciously desire?

Ultimately, people want other people who have something going for them and this is often reflected in career, fame, friends, family, and a bright future.  You sometimes just hope that you may experience a bright future with someone who doesn’t care about how much money you bring to the table.  As Alice from the Honeymooners said to Ralph before she married him, “Ralph, I’d be happy to live in a tent with you.”

It shocks me how many people I’ve met who are dirt poor, yet are happy as can be with each other.   They don’t need anything else but the two of them.  Considering how short life is and how tomorrow isn’t guaranteed,  they may be on to something.

 

P.S. food for thought:

The Necessity Of Compassion – Vacationing From The Internet Battlefield

Internet Burnout From too much Politics

 

Necesitamos compasión.   Necesito mas compasión

As much as I despise and revile modern day feminists – specifically the radical ones, I feel sorry for them.  I’ve noticed a cruel streak that not only infects opposing political ideologies – namely conservative vs liberal, but also in the ideologies that I am particularly interested in – the manosphere and feminism. The hatred I see from them both angers me, as I do have a pair of testicles, but saddens me as well.   To add more fuel to the fire, the  vitriol that  is usually returned upon them by many in the manosphere and this plagues any actual honest attempt at online discourse.  In fact, it’s not possible on twitter – don’t even try.

All indications point to the internet as being the catalyst to kick this inner rage into twitter cyber lynch mobs.  While these mobs can’t kill you or put you in prison like a king could, they can make your life a living a hell – like getting you fired for starters.  Even feminists are starting to worry about it.

I recall that piece which blew up on the internet in January by Scott Aaronson, the MIT professor, who had the worst kind of “nerd” nightmare that one can imagine growing up. It was so bad – as was the effect of feminism on him, that he contemplated chemical castration and suicide because he was terrified of oppressing and harassing women through any kind of conversation with them.   Despite all this, he states that he is still 97%  on board with feminism.  That is some devotion right there, though I wonder how long that will last.

Some feminists showed some mercy, as well as pointed pointed out that he had a flawed understanding of feminism, while of course pointing out that he still had cis white male privilege.   Some however dismissed the plight of nerds as very low on the agenda table – such as fellow self-loathing male feminist nerd Arthur Chu. Others showed absolutely no mercy – with Amanda Marcotte again leading the charge for the nasty side of feminism.

After reading, Marcottes column, I was initially stunned. This was a male feminist ally who she had ripped a new asshole. The bullied nerd had been trounced unconscious with internet fervor and foment of some of the nastiest that online feminism had to offer.  Marcotte of course would be there to deliver the coup de grace curbstomp.  (Maybe she is just a really terrible person.)

When I finished reading her article, it finally hit me; we are all losing our compassion and our ability to show empathy.

 

Retaining Your Compassion

 

I also sometimes worry that I could become like them; so filled with hate for the terrible things said and done in the name of feminism, that it engulfs me and turns me into a nasty and bitter person.  Could I literally lose my identity to an ideology that is supposed to free me – name The Red Pill?

Let’s say I knew someone was a feminist and a particularly nasty one.  Imagine it was Lindy West, Anna Merlan, or even Jessica Valenti – “shudders” – and they were broke, alone, homeless, stranded, ect – would I be compassionate?  I really hope I would.  Sure karma is a revenge best served cold, but everyone deserves at least some measure of mercy.

I will admit, I enjoy jokes made at their expense, the fun that should be poked at them, and the moderate ridicule that should be made of some of the things they say and positions they hold.

However, everyone – hopefully – has a base moral compass that is aware of the importance of compassion. Forget the gender of someone in need, would you help them if it didn’t directly benefit you? (Yes,  I’m aware of the friendzoned beta male white knights who end up becoming emotional tampons without the kind of reciprocation they most desire – sexual reciprocation.)

Still, shouldn’t we bother to help the downtrodden when we see them, regardless of whether they have had it coming or not?  While women like Valenti who “bathe in male” tears both yet again anger and sadden me, do I really want to bathe in “female” tears?  I imagine Valenti is just being as snarky as the rest of us – myself included – are when we want to let loose.

Look at women like Valenti, Merlan, and especially Marcotte.  Take a close look at the nastier voices of feminism and what it has turned them into.  I don’t believe they actually like their lives or the lives of others around them – specifically people who are happy. Misery does love it’s company.  Their only satisfaction and enjoyment in life seems to be reduced to hating and beating on men, both on the clock and off of it.  That’s a shallow purpose and identity which will have consequences later in life.

The question I must always ask myself as I critique and dismiss the particular virulent parts of feminism is, “Do I really want to become the reverse of them?”

 

Getting Back Into The Real World

 

Internet burnout picture
Seriously, take a break. Talk to actual people.

In the online world – specifically social media – we often forget we are conversing with other REAL people.  Yes, we will meet some deliberate trolls,  but the vast amount of our opponents are not trolls, but sincere meaning people.  Yes, I said that about feminists.  Too often there is this ultimate  boogeyman concept that we slap onto all of our ideological opponents.  Yes, the internet has gotten more polarized and full of vitriol, but that only goes to prove that you need to get off social media, the manosphere, ect and actually converse with real people.

Take the opportunity to talk to self-identified feminist in a non-digital environment and you will notice a distinct difference in the conversation that takes place – something even some feminists have noticed.   Megan Murphy from Feminist Current pointed this out in an article about the problems with twitter feminism:

“But, for the most part, I haven’t found Twitter to be a positive experience. And I’m not just talking about harassment from misogynists, I’m talking about the internal shit. The mean girls-style popularity contest so many of those on feminist Twitter engage in. The take-downs, the bullying, the mocking, the defamation, the snide remarks, and the absolutely endless stream of hate.”

Never forget that you are talking to REAL people and not digital monstrous constructs behind a smartphone have forgotten that real life is quite different from the internet battlefields in which the corpses keep piling up.

“And sure, you might say, people behave like that in the “real world.” But the funny thing is that, in the real world, I’m happy. I generally enjoy my life, despite common challenges like rent-paying, work-finding, relationship-maintenance, etc. I don’t feel or see an inordinate amount of hatred among the feminists I know and work with on a human-to-human level. It happens, sure, but not daily. Not constantly. And the vitriol is decidedly muted.”

She is quite right.   In the real world, I’ve been able to converse with feminists in when engaging in conversation in real life and avoid engaging in the kind of vitriol that occurs online and in social media.  I find it puzzling, because while I try to “live” online in the way I do my every day actual life, my “I don’t care if this offends you,” anger comes out.

However, I control how my anger and frustration is expressed in the conversations I have. Personally, I’ve long strived to make sure that I don’t exist in an echo-chamber.  Because of this, I often engage in conversation with people whose views I find scary, dangerous, detestable, ect.  This is a lot easier and more productive however when done in person.

 

How could anyone actually hold the opinions they do? It’s frightening!

 

Then again, I suppose they are thinking the exact same thing.  Disagreement is inevitable.

Expressing your anger in a vicious, atrocious, and appalling manner is not.

Never forget you are a human being, just remember to act like one – even in the face of some of the nastiest ideologues of our time. Don’t become like so many feminists and social justice warriors who can’t handle disagreement to the point that they are willing to silence said disagreement by attaching labels like “harassment” to dissenting voices and opinions.  In fact, they have even gone so far as to label “oppressive language” – which they of course define – as actually limiting free speech.  The Orwellian descent of tolerance continues to deepen.

 

 

Don’t get me wrong, expressing your anger is a necessary part of life.  Injustice should deeply bother and anger you. However, the way you go about expressing that anger however will say alot about who you are and what you are becoming.

Make no mistake though, don’t back down from what you believe. Don’t allow yourself to be bullied and shamed, *cough Scott Aaronson* something that ironically has become so intrinsic to modern day feminism.  Sometimes, you may need to let some of that rage out.  Just pick how and where and consider whether it will be constructive – like at the gym or blowing things up on Call of Duty – or negative like exploding at a barista at Starbucks.

We all want to be heard and one way to do that is to state everything in the angriest possible way – going viral to get the necessary attention for your subject matter.  The blogosphere has become a competition these days to go viral – and being constantly and consistently angry and enraged is a good way to stir up controversy to try and do just that.  It’s also a good way to let your “online” persona start to bleed into your real life character.

The Red Pill and many of the resources in the manosphere can greatly help you become a man and embrace your masculinity in light of the ever present assault on it.  There must be to becoming a man and to life than bitching about feminism.

This is fundamentally what the Red Pill is about when it talks about self-improvement consuming your time and turning you into a better person. You pick yourself up and you keep going.  If you start to lose all of your friends, close relationships, and a dire misanthropic attitude toward mankind – which I understand with bad days at work – you might want to examine how you are letting the TRP effect you and if it is altering your identity into what inspired you to take TRP in the first place.

So take a break from online and social media. Mingle. Meet people. Talk with them.  Even feminists acknowledge they need a break too.