Morning respite over Coffee and the Sundering of American Life or My take on Clint Eastwood's Pussy Generation

*sitting in kitchen with second cup of coffee listening to a lecture. This is his first time this week having coffee. Since he's running an average of 14 to 17 miles a week now, coffee is a no run day delicacy to be savored and cherished in these silent moments with headphones in ears. Looking out to the yard and street a large truck favored to construction workers wail on it's train like horn at a lowrider speed as it's large bounty of fruit glistens with freshly hoses mist. Blueberries would be lovely later if not for a fridge filled with them. It's difficult finding a decent sushi restaurant or a pho shop, but fresh fruit is never hard to find, often putting to shame the produce often shipped third rate due to geography and likelihood to fall for "organic" labels considering that the majority of people here have raised crops at one point or another in their lives*

...hmmmmm...they want a wall.....*sighs*....they actually want a wall......

*he shakes his head and tries to forget politics and the growing fear among most people here that the nation is actually going to bear down on them like in the 70's, or 30's, or worse. "Illegal" immigration have statistically not only ended in a trickle, but have regressed with families not able to afford their homeland once more and knowing that land is plentiful, they haven't seen their families in decades, and their children and grandchildren have thanked their sacrifice as societies "shit people" and "whipping boys" so that they can be citizens, gain the opportunity of an education, and actually give back to the society that once considered them vermin*

.....Pete Wilson.....Ronald Reagan......Roosevelt *sighs again*

*It's funny how it was the "Mexicans" now as it was the "Italians" then. Or the "Chinese" or the "Japanese" and the "Irish" and even the "Blacks". It's always someone else for the problems that never seem to be solved in centuries. Whipping boys are numerous and easy to find. Any population attempting to exist in a society that does not give them a fair shake out side of letting you live here will always find their place in some newsletter or web site or blog calling for the mongrels to be cast out either by political control or by weapon, all depending who the president is. Patriots become rebels in increments of four or eight years. It's either may way god bless america or it's don't tread on me you other. Nothing changes. Videos are made, people capturing moments of horror that only now the majority of White America is witnessing with a saddening response of either never knowing despite of the amount of history books or simply defending why a twelve year old child playing with a toy gun was deemed worth of immediate execution. People are horrified over a gorilla's death or "assassination" never understanding that young boys are sat down not understanding how sex works but how death may happen with a harsh word, not complying to every opportunity, or simply making the choice of buying something from the 7-11*

......nothing changed. Just more people realize it and are either appalled or even overjoyed......

*life was hard in the 80's. He was always a trusting child. If told police would give you baseball cards then they did that. He had several and the Dodgers were huge to him. In time he would stop believing them heroes as the violence of the streets he lived on increased with the drug war and the romanticized view of the gangbanger. It makes him laugh that word has changed meaning in time considering the horror he's seen and the friends he lost. Drug money, poverty and an easy score lured many to it only to have the majority laying bloodied in the streets, the young in prison, and a legal and political system not realize that opportunity is limited in these areas and the youth needed saving, but were condemned as animals, without family structure, or without morals. Their horrific warlike terror was seen as reasons why you would arm yourselves and that ignorant people are just criminals by nature. Ah, the 80's. Most see it as joyful folly, he sees it as twenty years of justified police killings and a funnel of prison to communities who needed FEMA or someone to realize that poverty kills. It kills, but it also fills coffers. Everyone feared the NWA, but no one realized that segregation and police brutality from Lynwood would fuel Compton's rage. Today what NWA alive are selling beer or overpriced headphones. "Hard niggas" of the 90's now have MBA's and are community leaders who suffered the hell of the day to give a new generation a new day*

.....privileged kids....pussy generation...*sips mug only to realize that it's empty, yet holds it to take in happy scent*.......trigger warnings .......and the fagot generation.....ha......"make my day"....ha ha....

*kids are fucking pussies. It's an easy thing to say. Almost trying to wash it's hands from what is and what responsibility have wroth. Clint Eastwood made his money by shooting niggers and thugs because Merica needed a dirty harry. Charles Bronson murdered rapist, spics, and hippy druggies to make his streets clean with a large manly gun. Arnold stopped smoking weed on camera and stopped chasing pussy to bulk down and say one liners while shooting gangs and Sandinista and commie shit that one day he would be given the chance to ruin California's economy. Bruce Willis stopped trying to play the blues on stage and picked up guns against the russkied and socialists and anyone with a funny accent. Chuck Norris has no testicles, no! Bruce Lee's bitch has only two more fists in his sack and be ejaculates spin kicks. Such a delicate thing, the male ego is and it seems the more "privileged" it is the more women and people of color has to bow to it to make it feel superior. Paula Dean isn't a racist really, all she wanted was niggers to dance in white like in those Shirley Temple movies. And Black people did back then under an age of oppression, lynchings and making any small move lead to death. They tapped danced, sang and smiled on stage. Women swooned at the turn of the century then wanted to vote even if they bleed all over the booths, the uppity bitches. Wet backs wanted a fair pay for picking poison sprayed produced that caused birth defects in their young. Remember Charo? She shook her body to hoochi koochi while Brown children wanted to go to a better school and be prepared for college. The Rat Pack ruled the world even if Sammy could do anything without half of the nation calling him a nigger jew.*

.....I got to be me.....poor Sammy.....

*Mr. Eastwood wants this back. No one complained because they had no voices or they got lynched via mob or police. The faggots were just faggots until Harvey Milk took a stand and was shot. Malcolm called for revolution by any means necessary and was shot. King wanted to follow Gandhi's stance on nonviolence and was killed when he spoke against a war in Vietnam, the commie nigger cheat.....he cheated on his wife you know.....filthy nigger. Black Panthers were killed on spot by police or informants planted information to ensure their imprisonment. Student organization where under surveillance and multiple organizations were torn apart from the inside by those who wore the same color for the bidding of Blue. People to this day believe that crack was devised by the CIA and AIDS was made in labs to decimate the population of those who are unwanted. It's conspiracy at best, but when Ronald Reagan holds a press conference and the question of HIV is brought up laughter is had about the male homosexual disease. Investigations are discovered that police and even higher government used dirty measures to catch "crooks" only to have them overturned, damages paid, and police departments on charges. What's worth when someone is made to live in a wheelchair due to a bust? When they ARE a criminal and the charges were made up and they were placed there with "good meaning" yet a dirty outcome. It's funny even now the ghosts of gangs and militants are used to scare white america. They're going to get you so more guns and in schools and in church and in the bedroom. In my youth, gun violence was a normal thing in school as one guy was shot over gang business and rarely in daylight. Drive by were common and we wore colors that were not "colors". We were called animals and savages in the halls of Congress. Then Columbine happened and more up to Littletown. We never killed our classmates, "only the cost of business" as the lyrics go. Yet this was something we needed to cure, now the epidemic is all over. No I worry that The Jungle and Crenshaw is being gentrified by a generation of white middle class who somehow didn't get the memo of what monsters we are. Children who's nannys played ranchera music and taught them Spanish while cooking and cleaning. The animals raised their children to know what tacos are. To fuel the foodie revolutions of enjoying other culture's food when they were reviled for being different. This new generation of white people are adventurous and friendly to a culture who had warned their children to keep their heads down and "don't cause trouble"*

....Good days.....when are our good days?

*He called his daughter privileged, but not to insult her. To make a point. He told her, if he lined up the generations of their family from her on the end to their great grandparents who rumors fought in the revolution and had that generations "white people" call them a filthy racial something, her great grandparents who had rifles in their hands because of need rather then ego would only look down and be silent. Her grandparents would do the same, but a glint of "uppity" might escape. Me, my generation would take a breath, calculate the threat and choose our words carefully only to be silence by her and her generation pulling out their phone, recording the happening and armed with a flurry of facts and outraged that has made them the "pussy generation". Oh my god, triggers. You should not rape because bad. And you should not shoot people because bad. Your argument should not be won with a bullet because bad. Straight Male privilege is bad because it oppresses blah blah blah....pussy generation, see? Keep your head down, do a little dance, and make that delicate privileged ego safe. Dirty Harry hates your complaining. Chick Norris, a man who afraid of chemtrails think that nonchristians are a threat to all because they exist. Arnold did the most republican thing while fucking California over by fucking the maid! That ugly brown bitch! Not like Shakira...that girl can shake and ass....booty booty everywhere, Bra.....Bruce Willis needs his guns everywhere or else he realizes he has no career without them. Paula Dean is a person of her time and she don't care because someone like the fact that niggers danced in clean white clothes and made Shirley Temple happy. They knew their place. Charles Bronson died in a lucky age where brown people were shot at and not reasoned with. I guess he's the lucky one*

....they want a wall......not better economics.....a wall......

*The time scares him a little. The threat of Alt Right worries him. The people who side with Merica even if some nigger, muslim social commie fagot prostitute who turned tricks for the drugs is in charge and ruining everything. The fact that Skin heads are being met with violence from a generation of leather clad vatos who are not going to let an angry minority end a protest with violence. They will fight back even if they get stabbed and arrested and held while the offending group leaves with bail. The world cheered and said that is what you do to "Nazis". Black people are arming themselves in Black Panther manner and protecting Mosques from Mericans and their guns. Brown people are not to be messed with anymore. The faggots are not, and they realize that Harvey left them with a great example of unification beyond who you take to bed with and to stand against who threatens you, even if it's not a "gay thing'. Unification means protecting those in need rather then each for themselves. So, he's trusted enough for someone to come out to. He's willing to hear someones tale or horror that is filed with rape, racial disharmony and gender trappings even if it looks like he's the "bad guy" in the story. People's voices are expanding and a new generation joins those commie, race traders who sold Merica out into realizing that one's privilege is often the removal of rights to others to masquerade as privilege. Hearing of horrors committed for their benefit only to realize it's not. Poverty is a universal unifying point, yet people are told this group or that group is to blame by those who gain from that lie. Merica has a sad story of it's own, once sung in country music but now often drowned out by patriotism. Everyone is coming together to a new idea of everyone making it, not just few while fewer gain most, but everyone, even the skinhead whose anger may one day wain and cause them to question. We've all been played here. Fear is dying out for some and for others the only means of unity. These are frightening times. That a man who has no allegiance other to himself would be the ALT RIGHT choice, god's choice. The White Race's choice when sadly......it's not. The game is blatant now and with that all the mechanisms are seen for all who dare. Yes, some want a wall and that makes all of us to pull together. Fagots are to blame and it pulls us all together. Religion is used as a weapon and even atheists hold the line for what's right. Women are divided on gender roles, race, and privilege yet in some happy moments unity happens. This is a frightening time and yet it pulls us together.*

.....but will we hold or let go once November arrives.....*sigh*

*He doesn't know and that scares him the most.*

.....they want a wall......

*He takes his mug to the sink and washes it out. Ikea is on today's list and beds must be picked up. He doesn't run today, but the previous nights soreness and ache is still prominent as he shuffles towards the bathroom.*

...I'm getting too old for this.....

Primum non nocere; Non impedire progressum

I've been playing with this thought for a few days now and I'm going to try to get in on the screen even though I'm not sure if I have a point.

I know, that made little sense. I know, that's how my mind works.

Also, I'm going to try an "lighten up" if only for my own good since I think I vented most of the harshest thoughts out. I'm not much to being a downer, but some things need to be said, even if they were gripes or just harsh issues that has come up from therapy. Geesh, if I was able to go back to 2013 me and tell him, he's be seeing someone about this and the depression he'd laugh.

Things are slowly getting better and I'd like to not be a fucking stick in the mud about it. Saying that much, I'll try to exponge a few things I've been chewing on.

Primum non nocere

This is the Latin version of Do No Harm, which is the Hippocratic Oath often quoted from Hippocrates of Kol who is revered as the Father of Western Medicine. It's a good practice considering that medicine was more of an art back then, yet still it holds true for doctors considering that an action, no matter how advantageous could cost the patient their life or simply living. It's the reason that medicine have changed from a guess to a hard researched process backed by the scientific method and constant years of research.

There was a time where I would have been considered an antivaxer of sorts. Cults have ways of making things that you should trust sinister and things that have no merit have all the trust in the world. It wasn't until I've went to University and sat in enough biology and microbiology classes and laboratories to realize that there is truth to lab work and seeing with one's own eyes backed by research and a long line of proof as a foundation. My college work proved to me that vaccines are the acme of medicine in which you can completely prevent any illness by simply exposing an individual to a weakened for of it. I've learned that evolution is true, even though there was a time I didn't believe in dinosaurs and even that we came from apes until realizing how DNA worked, how mutations can be a benefit or hinder to life, and even how some of the old "garbage genes" life has picked up in it's earlier forms cause us harm because it still believes that we are bacterium.

Holy fuck, I never thought of it that way. We're still apes which are just overly modified bacterium.....mind blown.....I need a minute.....

ok....

I've sat in classes where I finally understood how traffic harmed us by creating ozone which is horrible to breathe. I witnessed people in a lab trying to document the genealogy of a fox species that lived near Catalina Island so that they can help it from being endangered. I've been given small mystery samples in test tubes and told that I must plate, grow, run numerous tests, then run its genetic code in order to find out what it was and what strain it is. I've done sever tests on why blood types are important to understand while they theoretically spoke of universal plasma able to be given to all without need for donors. I've witnessed the concept of plasmids while also playing Bioshock and even seen primitive precursors of sex with bacterium sharing RNA via pili like appendages. No orgasm or sexual desire, just trading RNA to ensure that bacterium live.

As much I held disbelief, I had a chance to actually see what science had to offer. So it was very slowly throughout the years I've entertained doubt. Doubt is a good thing. It offers you a moment to stop and question if you do have the situation in check. That perhaps you need to double check your math and it even causes you to stop for a moment to reflect on what it all means from a bigger perspective. Sometimes the separation between logic and fallacy is just a quiet moment to reflect. I had several of these enough to allow me to realize that my cult was wrong. That they didn't have the answers and that what they called answers were horrid. Yet, I somehow still held on to what is and isn't right via my cult. It would take some time to stop and just figure it all out. Basically this year I had a mental spring cleaning to say that it was wrong, I was wrong, now I will do better.

There is no way to "convert someone". You can only offer them doubt. They have to release what they find as folly. Only then can they break free. Not by threat, nor regulation or mockery, but by entertaining doubt. Sometimes your existence is more then enough to cause that. Sometimes the fact that you are is enough to enrage and confuse and cause people to react violently against something they can not comprehend. You don't help their change with opposition, because all such mind frames share this Crusader/Martyr duality where everything IS justified with opposition. Fucktard comes to mind. Also Religitard. IF you ever want someone to abandon their natural process of reflection, challenge them!

There has been several debates that has not only shown people this in process, but they have also reaffirmed their belief in what is not correct. Nye and Ham comes to mind as even though anyone could plainly see that Nye's statement of changing his mind with evidence as earnest it's a stark difference of Ham's stance that even if he is wrong there is nothing he would do to correct it because he will always refuse to change due to his self convinced notions of what is. What ever scapegoat he needs isn't important. I'm not taking a turn on religion, but something more. A point where one refuses to believe what is stated as correct despite of proof stating the contrary because they will not. This is a delusion that as seen from the end of the debate, those who share Ham's admittance of delusion supported him with monetary proof.

Basically they gave him cash because he "stood up to the experts".

No one could ever convince him otherwise yet it does allow us to arrive at a hypothesis of either he doesn't know and simply refuses or he know and still refuses. Morality aside on why he would do this to himself and therefore so many others, one can see it's just incorrect. He's doing harm just by supporting a mistake in one sense or a lie in the other. Forget if he's doing this because his faith in a higher power is great or just that he's doing this because money is worth the trouble. If you are wrong and refuse to double check the math it doesn't matter why you refuse to check it. Your actions have committed an offense and perhaps harm. If I step on your foot, either by accident or on purpose does not dismay that I stepped on your foot. My actions
afterwards will state my intent, but in a simplistic view the damage, if any has been done.

Do No Harm

*deep breath*

.....I've been pondering another saying. I don't know if it means anything, but for the past month I've been thinking about it. My relationships with people and how I connect and even interact. I'm going to say that I don't have the healthiest of relationships at time and yet throughout my time in therapy I was finally able to set up my first boundary. I was able to cut myself off from harm and insult. I was able to back away and cut ties when my self worth has been hurt. I'm going to say that I don't have the most favorable view of myself. I'm going to say it's very skewed and off and that I can not at times comprehend. My time with the Crazy Doc as been trying to grow this part of me that never really existed.

And now having it grow somewhat, not enough to consider myself healthy and yet enough there to feel insult and want it to stop. In my way of attempting to create this boundary I've seen some pretty nasty forms of Gas Lighting. I'll not go into what it is since I won't do it justice. But here's a link and have at you. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gaslighting). I'll give you a sec if you need it.

...ok, well while making my first boundary I was barraged with insult ranging from "you're just jealous", "you're holding me back", "anything you ever had has been given to you", to " you're never going to do anything worth while". I held my tongue. I simply repeated their overall response.

"Move. Just move"

 Non Imprdire Progressum

Hinder no progress. I like the concept of being in Latin because it give it some merit as if the English cheapens it or it just may be that I'm compensating. And yet, I realize that the best say to prove a point is to stand out the way. At that moment, after hearing this barrage of insults and blame that for one, I honestly didn't wish them harm. They are an important person in my life, yet their frame of mind is harmful to me. Their behavior is not only an insult towards me, but in truth was a lie. I don't want them to fail or to hinder them and yet their mind is made up and I am the root of the issue.

I never understood triangles of any sort, the most frequent one that comes to mind is romantically as there is an individual who can not make up their mind on who should be the focus of their attention if there needs be a focus. I've been in a few without knowing and in some cases I've always been the "other person". The one who gets tossed out. I'm the other man. So this is always a sore place for me. Once I realize what is going on I usually leave and make it a line. I refuse to be part of anyone's emotional wishy wash. I'm either needed or not. Don't compare me. I'm either someone who is important in your life or I should go. I don't even care if I'm one of many, as long as I am treated as well as I treat you.

So in this spirit I realized that I need to step out of any way anyone believes me standing in. If you tell me that you moved away and you don't want me to follow, I won't. I won't chase you down to the airport. It's stupid. I tell people their worth and I am never on to stand in the way of progress. If you think you need to make your life better without me, go. Am I holding you back? Leave me alone. If you believe I embody the worst of your life allow me to exit, stage right. I shall never stop you once your mind is set. I will offer doubt in what manner I can, but I refuse to be an excuse of any sort. I will not stop you if you tell me to get out of your way. I will not plead or beg.

I will go. Hmmmm.....wonder if this is why people think that they can return. I burn bridges when needed, never on whim. And I will in no way rebuild one burned by you. If you cut off connection I will not reconnect. At this point I realize I don't want an apology, but I realize I'm wrong. I do want one. I do want an apology because it's the last thing people would give me.

Hinder no progress. Let me move out of the say and not be part of any resistance you can imagine me in. I wish you well. I wish you luck and love. Above all, I wish you away from me, the bane of your life. Sorry, I will not be used ever again to excuse your limitations. What I do I do out of concern and care, but if I'm stopping you then allow me to stop. I will let you burn down the bridge. I will let you walk away as it burns. I will let you do what you see fit as long as I am never used as an excuse of burden.

And if things go well, I'm happy. And if it doesn't I will not interfere. If you build the bridge I will let you. I will never again think of the greater good on your behalf, but allow you to correct your error. I will never assist in your attempt. You caused this. I wanted to warn you, but sometimes experience is a better instructor. I will not heal your wounds without consent in your case. You caused them and you are adult enough to mend them. I will not cut my life off in order to assist in yours. I have negated much of mine for the greater good and to give those who need more then what I have. I do it out of live, yet when it causes harm you have to stop. Hence I will.

It saddens me. It makes me feel bad and it hurt me in a way that I would ball up and cry since I care for those even if I must not. Maybe this is my fault or just how I was meant to be by those who hurt me. I love you, but don't come near me. I've bleed for everyone enough. A select few I would take a bullet for and perhaps two, but in the long run I will not hinder your progress in any way, even if it's to shield you from harm. It's a risk, but one I will take. Especially if I don't want to cause harm and to hinder any progress.

So.....yea.....I still wonder if I don't right even though I have no other choice in the matter. I will not suffer for your errors and I will not take your blame if you need a scapegoat. That time is gone and even though I care a heavy heart that aches, I know I'm doing what is right.

Primum non nocere; 
Non Imprdire Progressum

Addendum: Always double check which variation of words entered into babble fish unless you want to argue against the point you are trying to make. Geesh.......so sad so silly.,

Putting One Foot in front of the Other

Just took my stats. Being the first month in, I know that I won't see much in body fat change or visual change to my body. Yet taking body measurements one can devise how much of a change a month's worth of work can do.

Mind you, in four weeks I've basically restarted running after a four month hiatus and I've included 4.0 mile runs after realizing that I can physically endure 3.5 miles. Starting out running again you see any benefits until a month in. Your body is busy changing to stimulus (i.e. exercise) and it does not gain any positive change until it finally hits homeostasis. That was this week for me as I burned through my times for 3.01 mile and 4 mile run. I'm still averaging 235 lbs. I'm still moving about in 23% body fat. The only change is that I'm now physically able to push myself harder then I was able to before. This is going to fuel alot of change in the second and third month.

So looking over my body measurements from August and just now I can see that over all my weight went up due to increase of lean muscle mass yet my body fat percentage continues in the 23%. Overall areas where I've lost in mm is in the chest (-2.3 mm), mid abdominal (-3.8 mm), waist (-1.3), thighs (-1.9 mm both), and calves (-0.6 both) while increasing Lft Bicep (+0.6) and forearms (+1.3 both) while neck remains at (40.6 mm) and Rht bicep at (36.83 mm).

So so far, I've lost mm in areas where I would carry body fat while increasing in areas that usually are not worked as much i.e. left arm. Not bad. Pretty good. Also my resting heart rate averages at 52 bpm from 56 bpm. Hopefully I can get it back down to 48 where I had it when I ran like a refined spitting camel.

I'm going to continue to veg until Monday where I put in more work again. Overall goals are to work my runs for lesser time and increase suspension work with some core work on the third day. Big goals.

So....yea....this. Figure I should share.

So...yay me.

Heh....figured that I might as well use that whole degree thing.

.....the hardest part is going to be to continue. To not give up and go back to start. To keep working and continue to get myself to where I want to be. In other words, to not quit on me. To not stop in apathy and allow my hard work to go sallow.

I have to keep believing in me and to make myself focus.

I have to try.

Relearning to Feel Feelings Often Offer Once Rejected Offenses or Going to Finish What you Left on your Emotional Plate When you didn't Want it in the First Place

Felt lonely just now. Considering that I don't feel much outside of anger and the occasional puckishness, this is something. I was told that I'm going to have to reintegrate alot of bad feelings before I can be "normal". So far some annoyance and some anger.

So this is different. This is hollow and loud silence that almost shouts. It's feeling out of place and left out. It's knowing that there are people who would warmly welcome you and others who will bring you into their fold with a warm embrace who you haven't even met.

I would like to say that this feeling scares me, but I'm more then used to it, being an only child and just having to do things on my own for so long, even when I'm part of a large group. As as much as I honestly want to to belong or be needed or even be someone's, I've been here before, some trips shorter then others only to return with a faint remembrance of who I once was picking up shattered pieces of who or what I was.

Being me I've learned the hard facts that one day I will probably pass alone as many times I've live hard and good moments alone. Some call it horror, yet just like being chilled by cold there comes a point where it's not felt and the fear fades.

I honestly don't think I want to give that up yet. I've been over to the other side and see how grass can be green and such. I'm not impressed. I've met many loves of my life only to lose them in a bad turn other simply not being what I assumed by their presence. There is strength knowing I can walk away. I can be detached and not care. There comes a point where loneliness makes fool of others while you know well enough how the song goes. I won't ever make that mistake again and as much as 9 years celibate can be daunting to others, I have not spent any moment with someone who made me feel less then what I am, feel abandoned, or even shocked when a secret moment of insanity flares up and you realized the person you made your life with exploded into something you can still not believe.

I have my stories. I have my scars. I've said enough. For that price, I walk freely. I will pay less for tickets and always arrive stag. For the same price I will always sit on a dysfunctional see-saw, will have no one waiting up, will have to make dinner in silence unless I decide to fill that noise. Considering it all, I'm good.

So I'll listen to 12d3, play along on the guitar, sigh a sigh of sleeping in a cold bed and if lucky sleep a slumber unaffected by others. For this, I will keep what's left of me together considering I've given enough of me away to those who didn't need it. I will never have to share my treats. The couch will always be mine. I will always use my spare time for my use and privilege.

It's a harsh trade, but I'm already used to the draw backs. Just need to become accustomed to the benefits.

Toughen up

The world breaks everyone and afterward many are strong in the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these you can be sure it will kill you too but there will be no special hurry.

Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms, 1929

A friend shared this little bit of Hemingway with me a while ago. I'm always amazed on how much I avoid certain authors even though they're enjoyable. Just something that reminds me of school schedules and dusty professors and teachers already claiming how magnificent and great some books are. Never bothered to read them until college where I had the time as a science major. I enjoyed The Old Man and The Sea after some attempts, but I can say that I have not picked up The Great Gatsby or Of Mice and Men.

Just....a bad taste. I also don't do things under pressure or demand. As much as I read I only do it for enjoyment, if not love when it comes to books. Never on a tablet either. Something about the smell of books and silence of rooms while in the act of reading. Libraries often hold a special place in my heart. I've had one of my first kisses in a dusty library under the tombs of the Romantics, oddly enough. Book stores as rare as they are now, are special to me as I try to pick up a paperback classic for something less then two dollars while drooling first editions behind glass.

Yea.....books....just books. I know, I'm stalling. I'm getting there, just lost in a memory, forgive me.

I realize that I'm a bit of an off pack rat. I'm not inclined to buy things that will give me joy or happiness. Years of pinching a penny for as long as I have has ensured that the people closest to me have socks and clothes for the changing weather of places too far away from me to visit at the time. Something that I have a nasty habit and I realize that I need to correct considering that I can not think of myself without wondering if everyone else is ok. So often times gifts give me minor panic attacks wondering if I can keep it or if someone will take it away from me because I need to be taught a lesson.

Did I mention the domestic violence? Yea.....that shit is bad.

And yet, books are different. I have no idea why as I always re buy books only to pass on to others when I believe they will enjoy something new. Books are special to me. I started reading at an early age and always found comfort in them. I've collected comics in my early teens and even now I have a few Harley Quine comics in a special place. I started reading King in my Freshmen year of high school and after a while I noticed for a stupid individual I'm tearing down books with thousands of pages. Even now, I carry several books with me in case I'm stuck in a place with nothing to "do". I'm not a real fan of phones, but books will always have a special place. The say some people go on about concerts I'm about books. The only thing close to books is video games. So yea....books.....*sigh*

So as an odd pack rat outside of books, I have a habit of just picking up random things with no thought other then I need this soon and often times the moment comes in where I pull out of my back an item to save the day. Zip ties? Gonna keep this bumper up! A small odd metal weight? Ok, I have a paper weight. We're missing a screw for some reason? Paperclips! So I'm usually negating my quirk with an odd feeling of "I may need this".

Sometimes it's not a thing. Sometimes it's this quote. I didn't have time to sit and analyze it, but I knew it hit a nerve. I knew it mean something. I just needed time to ponder and moments to just let it sit in thought. Recently I'm in an odd exchange of poems with a cousin of mine, my junior by at least 20 years. She toss one towards me and if I find a moment of silence I'm able to read it and ponder it. Thankfully I know more poems so that I can keep her busy, but hers are magnificent. I've been pondering one a few days now, now seeing my initial response what shallow. Chances are between here and writing elsewhere I'm probably going to send her a response and pondering on what she sent me.

Did I mention I hated doing this in high school?

It's fun now. Before.....busy work with no enjoyment.

Ok....more then enough set up.

It's odd to me that Hemingway, the previous embodiment of manhood, would be the one to say this. Oddly enough the male ego is a delicate thing and it's bruised and hurt so easily. We can see this with adolescent hero worship of 80's action movie stars who shot guns and screamed at brown people who now cower in the fear of chemtrails while another help keep a state in ruin. But hey, they had their shirts off and they growled and grrred and made all the manly noises and shot people rather then do anything "faggoty".......ah...the 80's....wouldn't it be nice to go back so that one group already in power can not feel threatened as other people get a fair shake?

Nah.....fuck em.....ha ha....such stupidity. People actually believe in this. Scary.

Yet, Hemingway somehow shows a side of tenderness here. He shows a bit of contemplation. Something I've learned entering my 30's was to drop any feign manhood. I know most believe me being facetious when I mention this, but there comes a time, usually in a moment of great pain where a man has to question their manhood. Or what it is to be a man. I know it's chic to laugh at all the genders and to mock those who are actually questioning their persona seen. I'm not even mentioning sexuality, but just how they wanted to be seen. And of course most of these cry babies who shout "triggers" at what ever they find offensive and "bad" as the SJW's they are would never have survived my childhood where they would be called a "fag" and be called lucky if only their feelings were hurt. Because sadly somehow we were told to swallow an image of what it is to be a man that is so fragile that if someone simply acts different we are threatened with some sort of challenge to our own view.

It's sad really.

I've pondered this a decades ago along with my three questions of sexuality and I can honestly say that I'm straight. In the Kinsey scale I would be considered a hard one with no inclination towards sexual attraction to men, my own gender. I'm not bragging, but I'm simply stating a fact that I always knew. I've had many moments when someone would flirt with me along the spectrum of feminine and masculine behavior. I've been propositioned and even wooed and yet, I offer thanks and simply turn down the advances. Not matter the age, I always was straight even if I didn't really understand how important that choice was. Huh, didn't help that I was a twink in my early twenties, huh. Oh, I also had a bout of TB so kind of hard to pack on muscle from puberty when you're trying to survive.

Hey, you're attracted to what and who you are attracted to.

And yet, I've always been straight. So it kind of bothers me that I've been picked on for being "kind' or "sweet" or even "delicate". I never felt attraction towards men, but "fagot" used to fly out of mouths trying to hurt me quickly. It never bothered me because I was straight. It didn't matter since as hard as it was, I was attracted to girls my age and women today. Yet, I was different. I didn't yell at women to do things with my junk. I didn't put mirrors on my shoes. I didn't peek nor did I try to cross the line that today would be a crime and then would be boys will be boys.

Mind you, I was still a teenager and if I did see a hint of lace that would set me off. I love the female figure back then as I do now. Now I just realized that it's best to to justify making woman an object and actually talking to them. The times I've "got some" it was never a choice or due to my ability to say, "hey, girl" in the best way. I never showed up and gotten laid. I don't have a pornographic wienner and somehow I don't have that douche gene that makes me act like one. If anything I never felt attractive. I knew early on that I need at least 15 minutes to convince a woman that I'm not murderous and more time to just woo.

These days I just like a conversation. Just a moment to share time and words. I notice that "being nice" sometimes equate to me being flirtation. Trust me, if I tried to flirt it would be awkward and sad and why I simply state the obvious or just don't try. It's why I know my vocabulary is important. Words have power.

oh....craps....hold on

*notices that something on stove is burning. Takes oatmeal off fire and serves it up, soaking the pot*

*clears throat* ....ok, where was I......yes...I like women.

And yet, because I was all these things I've been on the rough side of life. People believe that I needed to "toughen up". I was told that I should watch out for the homosexual because I was their target and they would make me the gay. Sadly, being sincere and trusting I swallowed it all and I made sure no one made me gay. Sadly, doing so has caused me to be a piece of shit for a while. I regret the actions now and even though they never went past small mockery or words, I'm ashamed that I had to act that way because I had to protect against something that would never happen.

In my early life, I married at 16, tried to start a family, worked multiple jobs and even tried to take classes. It wasn't until my twenties where I would start turning about. After years of TB, medicine, and hitting the gym my thin frame began to pick up muscle. I would pack on muscle by my late twenties and finally felt eyes on me. Didn't matter since I still felt awkward and odd. Women hit on me and I didn't know. Men hit on me and they were fucking blunt. Either way, my gym workouts, martial arts and simply working out decades of frustration and anger made me......different. It made me big, nasty looking, and angry.

Oddly enough, few people would still come near. I can say that my friends chose me rather then the other way. Even they say that I carry a chip on my shoulder and a sense of anger and mayhem. I'm been in my share of fights, bad situations and even a few drive bys on the receiving side. I realized how delicate the male ego is when you scare them. Mind you, words are always best, yet when most men realize they don't have a point to argue, the anger comes out.....unless you look like you can eat them. Then they're polite.

I think my time in therapy has been mostly realizing how much of a product of my environment I am. As toxic as it is, I am that product. And as much as I can say, I'm scarier then I'd like to be.

....yea.....I know, right.....

And yet, this quote hit me and it took me time to realize what it meant to me. I wrote this a few days ago. I think it speaks well.

I was once considered soft, tender, sensitive and kind as a child. Some whispered rumors of one day being outed. Others assumes that life would just tear me apart.

No, I survived. I am a product of my world and past choices. And yet, I feel I miss that sweet, tender little boy and wish I can hold him in my arms and tell him it will be ok. Hell is coming and it will be ok. 

Sometimes....I wish I was still him.

I miss that little boy. That kid. The squeaky voiced, timid guy who was nice. Who was just a kind person, even if I was a bit of a spoiled brat. Yet, thinking now. If I could go back. I don't know if I would protect this version of me or simply prepare him. I don't know how I could improve him. OR if he needed improving in that way. I was soft, but that softness was strong. I'm still part of that kid when I'm alone and no one is near. My defenses drop and that kid sits alone and sighs.

Life is tough, yet I'm tougher. Yet this kid doesn't exist. He cried tears at how life was cruel and callus. He was in shock that he could not do anything, even to protect himself. That kid grabbed the weights and lifted until be developed an aura of malice. He took hits and bruises until he was nasty, vicious, and even horrifying. He read things that broke his heart, even just to disagree with it, but he devoured it all the same to become immune to the lies and mischievous intent until his eyes were hardened towards smiles and a sinister air hung on him that simply kept everyone away from him.

That kid became me. Can I be that kid again? I mean knowing everything and the such with improvements? Can I be the person I needed then for those who need them now? Can I?

Yea......therapy will see. I hope so. I miss that kid. He had his flaws, but he was sweet, kind, and loved people.

Tug a war with the Big Black Dog

Sitting at the table in the dinning area, I'm privy to the view of several animals. In the kitchen, the only dog who thinks I'm not worth my salt is sitting on a chair, newly returned from the vet from a nasty bought of inner ear infection. He doesn't like me much and he rather be babied by certain members of the family. It's quite annoying, but even so I'm happy to see the jerk feeling better. In the tree outside the kitchen window, a brown Siberian cat lays relaxed in the fig tree waiting for small birds to tear open the rip fruit so that green beetles can eat their remains. Time to time he pounces on strays that wander over to mate or cause general mayhem and he at times climbs through a window and squeaks a greeting from a voice that has been lost with one large tabby and a well placed claw.

The "little cat", the runt of the family of two out of the four cats we still have, one decided to wander off and another had to be given due to their disgusting protest of crapping in corners due to not having their very own litter box, sits on top of the bookcase in between the kitchen and dining room. She's a hard convert considering that we got rid of her most favorite sibling, the before mentioned Corner Crapper, and simply being completely mistrustful of any male touch. It took me years of working to winning her over, something I would compare to teasing and flirting. Small waving, placing treats at a distance and walking away and gradual touches while keeping away far enough to make me strain to reach her yet close enough to have her rub in affectionate greetings. She often dances between my legs as I write, teasing me to pick her up and hold her for a moment as I ignore her when she seeks me and touch her when she least expect me.

I can honestly say that I've learned everything about flirting from dealing with her and understanding that it's highly stupid unless your interest returned and engaged. Then I'm for teasing and kind affectionate shows of love. Until then, speak your mind and intent.

Ha....I'm digressing. I really am. I realized that my writing has taken a hard edge that would be almost considered Liefeld. I'm now realizing that I beat around the bush because my content is rough, brutal and honestly blunt. I'm not sure about you, but my writing is painful. It's an act of spewing bile onto a screen and me somehow trying to find justification on why this is. I need to do more set ups. Show you I'm not always a miserable fuck. That my life is not an Emo/Gothic/Romantic wet dream as life just constantly ravages me as I swoon and get the vapors.

I bleed. I laugh. I live. So I'm going to fluff it a bit. Show I'm actually human....ish? So yea.....animals....I'll get to the point sooner or later.

*takes in breath and continues*

At my figurative feet, the Big Black Dog sits. It constantly moves about the room at times, depends on it's whim to sit here or there, but it always sits near me. It walks with me on days that it will allow me to walk and sits near on days where my movement is to be limited. Often times I collapse and curl up into a fetal with it's large maw laying it's weight upon me, keeping me from continuing what I had planned for the day. It's an animal hard to love. It offers no respite. On my best days, it keeps it's distance yet always keeping in vision. No matter how great my moment is, no matter how fulfilling the laughs are, no matter how lingering the kisses are it's near.

See what I did here? I'm borrowing from Matthew Johnstone's brilliant imagery.  How else could you compare depression? It's not a treat as one would deal with an attacker or someone wielding a gun. It's almost stealthy. It creeps slowly towards you and it is always near. It almost seems harmless until it fully drops the weight on you. You can't prepare for it or plan around it. It simply drags you back always in some increment from blatant to subtle, but its there. Its pulls on it's leash and will always remind you that you're tethered. It pulls on you. It hinders you. It can not be reasoned with or even appeased. Its just there, big, dumb, and heavy. You can't hate it, its a waste to. You can't ever love it because it will always smother you.

*sigh*

So prevention is key. Being proactive is a necessity. I run and work out. I imagine more and more brutal workouts to increase the feel good hormones that makes you feel great. I collect data and analyze it when I need to be motivated. Finding meaning in the decrease of increments of minutes, increase of lean muscle mass, and correlate my effort and desire. All of this is magnificently useful when training others and keeping them pushing and struggling. I'm an amazing cheerleader. I pull up so many people who need that motivation and content drive. I am often times several people motivator. I'm honestly envious of what I'm able to do for others. Sometimes I just want to tear myself apart from the world and just be my coach. My hero. My leader and motivator.

I want someone to chase the fucking dog away. Maybe put it in a kennel. Find that farm upstate where is can depress all the other animals and give us sad meat products. I know, it's stupid and mean, but fuck can you let me be a bit?

So it sits at my feet, looks up and continues to lay there, almost telling me I should be so happy it's not on my chest.

Fucking dog.

*sigh*

I want to write fiction. I want to write horror stories. Comedy. Something interesting about not me where I can allude to things and use symbolism and allow others to sit in a room and discuss over their drink of choice. I want to use my writing to make a living. To inspire. To cause thought and discussion and .....*sigh*....you sigh alot when it's at your fucking feet. Almost as if you can sigh it off and regain your natural breath and not strangle you slowly.

I want to write about not me. I want to write about how crappy my dating life is. To write about moments I can not simply discuss with use of innuendo or simile. ha ha ha.....I want Guillermo del Toro to think I'm amazing and want to put a statue of me in his home and museum. I just realized that's what I want. I want him to mention in an interview that my writing has brought him chills and terrors. That he wants to have lunch with me and to bring along his good friend Kojima. I fucking realized this.....this would be the greatest thing I can ever wish for. Someone noticing my potential made prominent and celebrated. Seeing a statue of Lovecraft being honored for his work despite being paranoid, xenophobic and that special kind of racism that is "a product of his time".

Still honored.

Can I have that?

"He was late onto the literary world, yet he has inspired so many. He brought out an old kind of fear once forgotten and inspired a generation. People today will remember the Romantics. They will remember Charles Bukowski. They will remember Auggie for his body of work ......although the fucker was a huge introvert and harbored an immense hatred towards orangutans.....hunted them on his time off....bit of a monster"

Hahahahahahahahahaha.....ha.......that would be awesome......it would be awesome.....it would be....I wish it was .....

I can tell the Big Black Dog becoming annoyed with me. Can feel it scooting over with every laugh. I almost feel I can laugh it away. Bother it to leave me be by fostering some....joy....happiness....anything.....just to have it leave me alone....and maybe find that secret rocket fuel to launch me into where I want to go instead of here, struggling with trying to exist.....*sighs and notices it scoot closer*

....no no....I have to be positive....even if I have to lie....anything but this... I will be positive. I will be......I will be.....*sighs*

This is my Wednesday afternoon. Struggling with......this. When I could be out there.....being....magnificent....being.....great......doing something.....worth doing....not having the Dog on me. *feeling tears in eyes*....

I want a chance......time is running out. I want what other have......a fucking chance and the ability to take advantage of it.....it won't help if my cheering squad is cheering me on or more then willing to back me in every way. I love you guys. I do. I even feel ashamed that I can do.....I just want to do....not be dragged down.....pulled into nothingness .....to be forgotten.....to lose any potential I may have.....I need to struggle against what kills me or it will pull me down and have other remember me in awkward and sad tones. 

I want my name to be said with laughter. I want other to tell their stories and moment and have others question that I ever did do such things. I want to inspire those of us who struggle and fight to keep fighting. We might die. We might take our lives or even let it take the meaning from it from us, but fuck we have to fight. We have to struggle even if struggling is going to have us sink more. I want to go down swinging if I can not be magnificent......

......*almost to tears*.....to paraphrase The Creature from Mary Shelly's Frankenstein for my purpose, if I can not inspire the world with love, with joy, with kindness and affection that simply dies in me because I can not give it to you for whatever hellish reason, then let me inspire you with hatred. Hatred against this Big Black Dog. Anger towards how it suffocates us. Inspire you with my rage that it had stolen so much of my life. I want you to remember that I swung the hardest, fastest and always went for the kill against what kills me. I want you to remember that its not the world that takes me away from you anymore, its depression, and its killing me and siphoning what life I can share with you for it's own empty means. If I can not be your hero...my hero.....I want to be the fucking villain, if that's the only role given to me. I want depression to feel hatred towards me. I want it to regret attaching itself to me. Make it sorry for the rest of it's horrid existence I want it to bleed by my hand, be it dead or alive. I want it covered with my scars and to hid it's monstrous face from the world. I want others to see it as my bitch. It may just take me, but I want everyone to know I hurt it in ways that it rues. I want my name mentioned in it's place. Call it the Bane of Auggie. Anything to remove it's fucking clout. I want people to mention depression much as many mention consumption or the plague, a harmlessly distant whisper of an age that no one can relate to. 

If you're going to steal my life away, I will hurt you. Even if I have to exist on anger and hared. Even if I have to devise some method to love those around me rooted in the hatred of you, I will. It's not fair nor will I complain, but I will not be take down so easily, especially since I've survived so much before it.

I can feel it slump away.....I'm angry, but it has left me. I don't want to be angry, but I will not remain weak to it. I will poison myself to hurt it if I must.......not that I want to, but I need to continue with what little time I may have.

*sighs out of exhaustion*

Maybe one day I'll reach my dream. Or even some close approximation that will allow me some joy and peace of mind. Maybe. It's hope and hope is a delicious we whisper to ourselves until we can make it manifest. Or it can lull us to slumber in place of the peace we seek. But I will allow myself this.....I will lie to myself until I can make it happen or simply have to let it go. 

I need "hope" and this is the only way I can have it.

I must try until I can do better. 

.....

Please, be kind.
Peace and Love.

I'll write more soon. Despite my sad topics it's helping. 

Crazy Doc Quicky #1: How are you feeling now?

Crazy Doc: So......how are you this week?
Me: *see link for exact emotion https://thenib.com/this-is-not-fine *
CD: Good, good! You're making progress. This is healthy for you.
Me: =-|

Moral: I have not a fucking idea, but ok.