Society

A little perspective after a long time

*Note: There are some elements of this entry that some may find disturbing, or possibly even trigger-worthy. Read (or don’t) with caution if you are the sensitive type.

I know, I know… I’ve been gone a long time. Life is like that; It ebbs and flows. It’s probably a good thing I don’t write professionally (at least not on a creative level) or I would be accused of following after a certain author of thrones. Anyway, It took a couple years for this cycle to settle, and now that it has… everything is fine. And that’s it. Nothing is wrong, and new stuff happens from time to time, but for the most part, I’m just doing my thing; day in and day out. My companions from my previous cycle (and even the “adjustment” period) have almost all fallen away. Some will come back eventually, and some will not. But for the time being I have my new cave by the lake, my work in the contrasting enormous palace nearby, my cats, some friends I see every so often (whom, I’m growing a greater appreciation for as others move on) and… me.
It’s not about time any more. I have time. I finally caught up on The Walking Dead (holy shit…) and I’ve been addicted to certain mobile games involving hunting small creatures in the real world and fantasies that are final at home. So time is there… money is still in recovery but improving daily. What I realized is missing (much like in my personal relationships) is passion. I don’t feel inspired by anything. The world is beautiful, and I am privy to exceptional sunsets on a daily basis. These bring me peace, but they do not light a fire. There is no fire. I’m not depressed, things are generally good, I’m just… here. It’s kept me from writing because I need to have something I feel strongly enough to write about. It’s kept me from photography because I’m still backlogged almost a year (sorry Jess.. I put some more up yesterday but I realize my pace is horrible…) and while I love the photos I put up when I do work on them, it’s honestly a struggle to get myself to sit down and focus on them.

At least sometimes I look alright doing it…

I know, this is a lot of whining and problems that are really not problems. A year ago at this time I was trying to figure out if I was going to have a place to live next month, so I understand that I’m not really having real problems. Ironically, it might be the intense focus that work requires of me that keeps the inspiration from showing up at the end of the day. Chicken or the egg? Be that as it may, I am virtually alone and uninspired at the moment, and while I’m making an effort to branch out a bit, it may be some time before life picks back up again.

With that said I want to share a story with you. This story makes all of the above whining seem even more ridiculous. The point is not to shock you or make you feel bad, the point is to help people like me, who are really doing pretty okay, keep perspective and be grateful for the blessings they have, even if inspiration feels a little short. Having time to worry about inspiration or passion IS a blessing in itself.

As mentioned above, I work in a literal mansion. My boss is such that he parks his seaplane (yes, seaplane) in the back yard, on the very nice lake that is shared among the local (rich) community. Though it is not the point of this article, I want to make a point of assuring you that my boss is 1. Generally a good man. 2. Gives a GREAT deal of charity and pays a great deal of taxes without complaint. -and- 3. Does not come from a wealthy family. He’s built and earned what he has, more than once.

Anyway, as his Executive Assistant (you can call me Alfred) I assist in running his business, finances, calendar, estate, grounds, etc. So as mentioned I spend the majority of my time in this huge, immaculate home. Another staff member of ours – let’s call her Jan – comes once a week with an associate of hers to do a full cleaning of the house, laundry, etc. She is originally from Jamaica, in her late-40s, and her and I have a friendly, joking, semi-abusive relationship. My boss has known her for over a decade (before he even moved into this mansion) and has treated/paid her well consistently. He is even looking into the best way to provide for her retirement in the future, as she has never had her own means of obtaining one. Not that she’ll need it anytime soon, because while she’s easygoing and friendly, she’s also tough, I mean really tough.

Our cleaning lady would kill you son.

I’ve visited Jamaica before via cruise ship. I know, I know, that’s not the “real” Jamaica. But all you need to do is book an excursion that takes you out of the tourist area and if you’re paying attention you very quickly get an impression of the reality many native Jamaicans face. While there are most certainly well-developed, colorful, historical towns, hotels, and restaurants, just outside the walls of the tourist area in Falmouth, things get progressively bleaker until the reality of literal poverty is staring you in the face. They make the best of it; You could see people smiling, laughing, and living, but they have adjusted, or have never know the extent of the comforts and security we have here in the US (despite us needing to be made great… again…)

Jan, and her family are from that kind of life. She’s happy to be here with her longtime friend, making a life for herself and her daughter here in the US that would be near impossible for the rest of her family back in Jamaica. She sends them money and support, and shows me pictures of the gatherings she attends when she goes to visit them. She is especially proud of their Sunday clothes, when they get dressed up for church.

The other day she pulled out her phone and was showing me pictures of her son and some of their extended family still living in Jamaica. She has never married, and when I asked her if her children were intentional she just smiled at me as if I were Jon Snow and knew nothing. In this particular photo set though, I commented on her son’s sense of style. Even by US standards, he was decked out in a dark suit with a light purple tie, matching vest and sunglasses to complete the look.

That style.

That was when she casually showed me the next picture. It was of a young boy (I think she said he was thirteen) hanging from a tree by a rope tied around his neck. Her nephew had decided that his life there wasn’t worth continuing, and… before they took him down, they took photos. She continued that her son was wearing his best to that boy’s funeral because he had been like a brother, and it was the best way to honor his life. The whole time she spoke casually and easy about this, as if this were just another part of life like a thunder storm or the flu. But then, for a lot of people in the world, possibly even the majority, it is.

Many of us in the US live blessed lives. Absolutely we have poverty, I’ve shared with you before that I was homeless at times growing up and have memories of getting food from the food bank to eat. But much harder than I ever had it is the racism that is still coming to light, when growing up as a minority here (especially if you’re poor) can be, literally, deadly. And while a lot of us see it on the news here, and it is wrong anytime, anywhere, in some places it’s so common that it’s not even a headline.

My point is not to say that we don’t need to get better as a culture in the United States (or wherever I end up should Emporer Trump come to power,) because we do. We have to be better because we have infinitely more opportunity than so many more places in the world. If there’s anything the human race is good at, it’s squandering its available advantages by focusing on trivial things (like… not feeling inspired…) But that photo of the boy hanging from a tree, because life was actually very hard there and he couldn’t make it, is something that reminds me of this responsibility. It gives a lot of perspective to how blessed the majority of us are here and reminds me that, at the very least, first and foremost, I (we) need to do our best to not be a part of the problems in our own culture.

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This.. should be appreciated.

People like Jan can come here, and work hard, and probably never have a life as decadent as my boss (or possibly even me.) But because she has an inherently different perspective, and the appreciation for the many things we take for granted (including our way of life itself,) there’s a good chance that she may often be happier than those of us that lose our perspective from time to time. Happiness is relative. That’s why people with far more money than a windbag like Trump are secretly (or not so secretly) miserable. Meanwhile those who give away what little they have beyond their own survival enjoy happiness that eludes the majority of the world.

There’s no recipe for it either. It’s individual… relative. Giving away everything or becoming a monk won’t make everyone happy. Nor will winning the lottery (as people have demonstrated over and over) or becoming famous. I believe the secret (even if I’m having trouble with it currently) exists in curbing your expectations and being as grateful as possible for the blessings you have. We deserve the good things that happen to us, on whatever level (so long as you do not intentionally harm somebody for those things.) There is no need for guilt, just gratitude for whatever good things come (as opposed to the trap of being sad about what does not.)

It is an unavoidable truth of this world that some people live through horrible circumstances, and maybe the silver lining (no, I’m not saying it’s ever worth it… it never is) for those who can overcome those things is the ease with which they appreciate simple things that others might well take for granted. Everyone has a story, and sometimes by learning about others, it helps you put your own in perspective.

A Story Of Sluts

A friend of mine recently messaged me for my opinion on a subject she’s (ironically) contributing to a blog about. She asked me for a male’s opinion on “the difference between a woman who is labeled a slut and a woman who’s comfortable with her sexuality.” She said I she thought I would be a good person to ask, naturally I’m inclined to agree. However, I would be lying if I said that I believe I represent the general male population’s opinion on this matter… which is most typically unfortunate.

With that said, I really don’t like the word “slut”. I don’t use it, and it only ranks a bit lower than the “C-word” used toward women, or the “N-word” used toward African Americans… both of which make me extremely uncomfortable. I have no business using either of those words, and I don’t think males in general have any business calling anyone a “slut” (though, admittedly, I can type that word, whereas the others I really don’t want to.) Men who label women as such are usually HUGE hypocrites (for example my post back in August back about the “Downtown Alpha Male”) and are using the term to belittle women for the very thing they celebrate for themselves. It’s ridiculous and just another example of men historically treating women as possessions. Basically, “Shame on you if you let too many guys get a ‘piece’ of that which is obviously yours.”

About that many I think.

When it comes to sexuality, people get all freaked out about numbers. Specifically: “How many people have you been with?” I literally scared off a girl I was actually interested in dating once because of my sexual history, and my “number” isn’t nearly as high as my reputation might suggest. (Truth be told, I did stop paying attention at some point… so I would have to sit and think about where I’m at now… but I digress…) Regardless there are huge flaws in judgement based on said numbers. First of all, you’re over-generalizing multiple, specific situations with details that are important. Second, you’re making broad assumptions based on very little evidence/fact (even if you ask questions.) And Third, you’ve got no pre-established parameters or reasoning by which to quantify measuring the statistics on which you are basing your judgement.

For instance, what if a specific girl decided she didn’t enjoy vaginal sex? Technically she may have only been with one or two people in the ten or more years she’s been sexually active. But, maybe she’s one of the few women that really enjoys anal sex. Does that count? Depends on who you ask. Further, what if instead of anal sex she really, really enjoys giving blowjobs? She’s had intercourse with two guys, but probably given a hundred times that many blowjobs. Does that count? What if she didn’t swallow? Then does it count? If she gave YOU that blow job, should it add to that number? Or does it not count because you know you’re better/cleaner than anyone else?

What about women? If a girl’s sexuality includes women, and she has been with over a hundred women in all sorts of awesomely kinky ways, but has only been with one guy, is she a “slut”? Or are you just envious of her far supirior ability to woo females? What about group sex? Does that count as one encounter? Or should we count each penetration? If so, which penetrations? If we count all of them a girl could rack up double digits in just a few experiences compared to another girl who has had sex hundreds of times but with only nine guys since she became sexually active. The point is, any “criteria” is flawed to say the least, and depends on the individual and their (very often flawed) beliefs. There is no correct way to quantify who is or isn’t a “slut” because it’s a highly subjective term (which really shouldn’t even exist.)

However, for the sake of answering the question, I suppose I’ll come up with the most obvious differentiation I can based not on the general actions of said women, but whether or not they are using their brains. It’s time for a story of sluts.

Subject A is a junior at the University of Washington. She did her first two years at community college, and is eager to mingle on the university level, but also focused on her future. She’s always been intelligent, level-headed, good in her studies, has a great attitude, and is a finance major. Let’s call her “Monroe” (please note that these examples are based on my personal experiences, but NOT any specific people. I chose that name because I literally don’t know anyone who has it.)

Subject B is a high-dollar, celebrity level escort of roughly the same age as Monroe. She’s always been blessed with good looks, and she comes from an (unfortunately) typical broken family. She did the best she could to get through high school, but was forced to go to work to support herself and her younger siblings whom her parents otherwise neglect. She went to work at a strip club because it was the best money she could find in a tough job market and with no vocational education or schooling. Through her looks and street smarts, a chance meeting introduced and groomed her into high dollar escort work through which she was able to become financially independent while providing for her family. Let’s call her “Chastity“.

So, I ask you, which of these ladies is more likely to be called a slut? Seems obvious that would be Chastity. But let’s continue with our hypotheticals.

Monroe is pretty and has had little trouble making friends in class, but her studies keep her from going out too often. However, she is being courted by various sororities and and is invited to an event known as a “mixer” with an associated frat house. Though she was never really the party type, she’s excited to “live her life” and decides to go with her new friends. At the party, she has a great time, and accepts drinks from a succession of very attractive and charming men in the fraternity. They don’t seem anything like the obnoxious stereotypes she’s heard; these men are intelligent, charming and very nice to her, all while bringing her drinks so she doesn’t even have to leave the dance floor. One thing leads to another, and she finds herself alone in the room of one of these charming young men… David.. she thinks.. Though she’s not been drugged, she’s already drank more than she should have and makes the poor decision to go along with this young man’s advances (he’s very pretty.) But when they finish up (or rather when he does… he put a condom on.. she thinks…right?) he makes a remark about how the night is young, and they should rejoin the party. Thinking they will follow-up later, Monroe agrees as she is hurried out his door.

Chastity:

Meanwhile Chastity is having a good night, there’s a convention in town with a lot of very rich executives looking for company. She’s decked out in a Gucchi silk chiffon gown and her power heels – Christian Louboutin. It’s only midnight and she’s looking for her fourth (and probably final) client of the night. She prefers her regulars – much more comfortable and fun – but scoring four big pays in a night is well worth any initial awkwardness. The last guy was aggressive and she liked that until he tried to shove himself inside of her bareback. Fortunately she knows her business and was able slide out of position while giving a coy purr that said “you’re forgetting something big boy…” he complained but all she had to do was give the serious look and hold it up for him to get the message: “No condom, no more playtime.” That’s one of the first things you learn as a sex professional; not matter how clean and intelligent they seem, every guy is one shitty decision away from fucking up your life permanently. The profession is risky as it is, and Chastity is proud of her many negative testings. She plans to keep it that way. Finally she spots her next potential… time for him to buy her a drink.

So at this point Chastity is up on numbers for the night (we can pretty much assume she’s up on numbers forever…) So that would label her the “slut” of the two, right? I mean, sure Monroe has made an obviously stupid decision, but Chastity has been with three guys and is not done yet. Let’s see how the night plays out.

Monroe:

The world is blurring a bit for Monroe. Drinks keep happening (though it seems like they are
spaced just enough apart to keep her from being sick…) and she’s feeling good. She lost track of that first guy.. Daniel.. (he was so nice!) but now Michael has been dancing with her and has the prettiest eyes. She’s afraid she’s going to hit attention overload… never in her life have this many hot guys been this into her. Michael says he has to tell her something and leads her back to the rooms. He tells her that his little brother in the frat, James (oh! he was cute!) has had his eye on her all night, but is not very confident. He says his plan was to bring her back to the room and introduce them so he would talk to her. But James isn’t here, and Michael tells Monroe that he feels a connection with her… she thinks she feels it too… but that could be the vodka. There’s been a lot of vodka… Now Michael is kissing her.. his hands are warm as they make their way down her back.. they feel good but she’s still blurry… “maybe this isn’t a good idea..” she thinks.. but fuck it, it’s not like this is normal for her, let’s have some fun. Maybe there’s a connection there…

Chastity:

This guy was tough. The prostitute stigma was strong with him and he’d really liked her. Sorry champ, no freebies for being cute. He kept her for a while, she accepted more than one drink (one is her typical rule before business), but she knew she was still totally in control. She started to walk away and he’d stopped her, disgruntled, and asked what her time would cost. He said he wasn’t concerned about the sex, but that’s only because he didn’t know what he was in for. He agreed to compensate for time – the same price – and dinner was excellent. He asked if he could call her another night (sorry champ, I said no freebies) and that maybe he could support her in exchange for her allowing him to court her legitimately. She told him maybe, but she knew it was a no. He wasn’t the first rich guy to offer this, they all think they are different… better than the other guys. The truth was she actually preferred the guys who were straight up for the sex… much neater and less work to get around their emotional hangups. Her magic charmed them for whatever they were looking for, it was her job to steer them to what she was willing to give. Nobody was going to own her. If someday she decided she wanted something more, she would bring it up on her terms. But she doubted it would be a client, most of them already had somebody waiting at home anyway. Chastity was a fantasy, and she was a damn good one, but when business was done she would always say goodbye. By the end of the night he had champagne delivered to his hotel room. “Nothing is going to happen” he said. Bullshit. She could see he was already trying to hide a raging boner. She unzipped his pants… it took her fourty-five seconds to finish him the first time.

So now the score is two to four in favor of Chastity. But who is the slut? The naive college girl making multiple poor decisions? Or the call girl who is totally in control? They are both having sex, so how do we judge them? Let’s wrap this up.

Monroe:

Naked. They are just laying there, but at least he didn’t push her back out to the party again. Granted the party is dying down. It’s… what? 3 AM now? Where did her friends go anyway? It’s okay though, despite a whirlwind of a night, Monroe isn’t upset or afraid. Nobody has been mean to her and sure, they’ve been forward, but she wasn’t forced at all. They are really hot guys and she enjoyed herself both times. Both times.. wow.. that wasn’t something she was expecting. She turned and felt the wet spot on the bed near her groin.. there’s no way that was all her. “You used a condom… right?” she asked. “Yeah.. yeah I did.” he paused “But you know, sometimes they break or something.. so maybe you should get the morning after pill just in case.” The first twinge of frustration hit Monroe. She wasn’t stupid, this dude lied to her. But before she could say anything, he sat up and let out a deep sigh. “Shit… I’ve been stupid…” At least he admitted it… but he continued “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was going to hook you up with my little bro and I got greedy.” He seemed genuinely remorseful and for a moment Monroe actually started to feel bad. “I’ll talk to him.” she said before she realized what she was saying. “Maybe he and I can hang out, bring him out of his shell a little.” Sure. What’s the harm in that? “We can keep this between you and I.” she assured him. Thier connection was faded now, and she didn’t think she was going to see Michael like this again. “Alright cool. You know, you’re a pretty cool girl. I mean, you’re hot, but you’re also cool.” He handed her the drink she’d carried in with her “Finish that up and I’ll go grab us some more.” It was three-quarters full. “No no, no more for me.” she said. It was still hitting her and any more would make the world spin out of control. “Alright.” he said “Just finish that and I’ll get you some water.” Well fuck it, it’s the last one anyway. She emptied the cup and laid back down while Michael life for more drinks. For a little while the world went black.

“Holy shit she’s naked…” a voice whispered. Shocked to consciousness Monroe scrambled to cover herself. She looked up to see the shy (but cute!) one… what was his name.. James peering down at her with Michael behind him. “Wait.. did you? Did you already fuck her??” James asked. “No no bro, we were just talking and got into it a little… I just warmed her up man! Look at her! She’s in your bed, ready.” Michael said. His bed. Shit. His room? Thier room. It was harder to think straight after her nap. “Look, I’m sorry…” she started to say… she had no intention of hooking up with James tonight, no matter how cute he was. She started grabbing her clothes and then she heard James say “I can’t do this… she’s not here for me. She doesn’t even like me! Why did you bring me up here? She doesn’t want me, she wants you. I’ll go find somewhere else to crash.” Shit.. she’d let herself go with Michael on this poor guy’s bed and now she was going to ruin his confidence. Michael was looking at her now. He was pleading with his eyes and motioning at her. Fuck. “Hey.. uh.. James!” she said. She wished she wasn’t so fuzzy… damn you vodka. She sat up on his bed and motioned next to her. “Come here, let’s just talk for a little while.” “Are you going to put your clothes on?” he asked. What a gentleman! “Do you want me to?” she asked playfully (she was already naked on his bed after all…) “N-No.” he replied. “You look hot like that.” Well fuck it. She was already here, might as well be naked. But she was absolutely not sleeping with James tonight. No way. Michael left with a smile on his face and James sat and talked to Monroe for a while. She got sleepy and they agreed to lay down and “cuddle”. She was still naked, and before he laid down he was too. It wasn’t long before she felt him hard behind her. He started kissing her neck and in her sleepy haze it tingled a bit. He had been sweet to her and they had talked for nearly half an hour before they laid down… she couldn’t bring herself to reject him now and hurt his feelings. So when his hand made it’s way between her legs, she allowed it… she was still very wet, though some of that might not be from her. Hormones took over and she tried to say something about a condom before he could push his way inside her. He reached over and grabbed at the nightstand drawer. Then he was behind her again, and she felt him. Did he put it on? It seemed too quick but everything was a blur. She told him to be gentle, he was and she enjoyed herself despite a bit of soreness.

Morning came with a headache and more soreness. James was gone. The room was empty. Monroe couldn’t believe she’d had such a night. It was a little exhilarating, but also way out of control. That wasn’t happening again. As she made her way down the hallway she passed by some of the brother’s rooms. She vaguely remembered the faces, but all she got was a few amused smiles. She looked like hell and had to get back to clean up before class. After class she went to get the morning after pill. She felt gross about it, but she knew it was the smart thing to do. Days passed and nobody called, she didn’t see any of those guys again for a while. She thought she saw Michael once, but when she went after him he had vanished. Probably better, what was she going to say? “So, I fucked one of your frat brothers the other night, then I fucked your little after I fucked you. Good times right?” It was tremendously embarrassing and part of her hoped she never saw them again.

Unfortunately, they haunted her anyway. First in the burning sensation when she peed three days later, and then with discharge and something worse than cramps. Her doctor told her she a combination of a UTI and Gonorrhea. She was lucky it wasn’t herpes or HIV. Those assholes!! But it didn’t stop there, she finally ran into her new friends from the sorority that had been courting her. They hadn’t contacted her since, but she approached them and was met with awkward looks. They knew. In fact, they told her “everybody” knew. She was the slut that banged three frat boys in one night. Those guys were high-fiving and telling everyone that came to their house how they passed her from brother to brother. The girls told her they couldn’t have her in their sorority, it wouldn’t look good to have such an openly slutty girl associated with them. Monroe was understandably livid at the boys, but she
was more upset with herself. She was depressed for a while and kept to herself and her studies. Eventually though, she started to feel normal again. Fuck what those people thought. She didn’t want anything to do with greek life anyway.

I would like to say that was the end with a lesson learned, for some people it is… but months later she was invited to another party at a different house. A friend of hers in statistics that was very smart and very handsome invited her along. Some more alcohol, and some very pretty boys happened. They had heard about her from some friends of theirs in another frat house. But that’s another story.

Chastity:

He had asked her to stay the night. She usually didn’t but he offered extra. Money talks. He wouldn’t try to fuck her again, she’d worn him out and she knew it. Sometimes it was nice to not rush off, and the sheets at this hotel were to die for. She woke up to an empty bed and an elaborate gourmet breakfast. He’d left his number on a card on the tray. Very cute. But she knew the game. He wanted her because he couldn’t have her. Prostitutes are looked down at because the perception is that anyone can have them. But a high-class escort knows how to turn that around. They got what she was willing to give, on her terms, and nothing more. No matter how they tried. She sometimes had referrals or friends of previous clients who would tell her that somebody had fallen in love with her or that they would treat her like a queen forever. But Chastity was her own queen, and she liked it that way. She gazed out the marble atrium with it’s floor to ceiling windows on the 72nd floor as she ate breakfast and smiled. Not a bad life.

When she had more than enough money to do so, Chastity enrolled in college. She required no loans and saw some of her regulars as time allowed for spending money. She avoided frat parties and that sort of life because she had zero patience for the ridiculous attempts those young boys made to get in her pants. She tried it once, and all they did was attempt to feed her alcohol and get her alone. One guy even tried to guilt-trip her into sleeping with his “little bro” who was shy with women. Please. One look at the shy boy and she knew that he knew exactly what he was after. He was no stranger. How many stupid girls had fallen for that? After that she kept to her studies and went downtown when she wanted to have fun. Her company was classy and on her terms, just as she liked it.

Chastity graduated with a Masters in Business Management and a minor in Accounting. She went on to become a highly sought after business consultant and developed a reputation for being a no-nonsense problem solver for many fortune five-hundred companies. She eventually hired an assistant, a cute college dropout who desperately needed a job and had a background in finance to help her manage her accounts. She was very bright, and had a pretty good attitude, but you could tell she’d been through some things… she was a little rough around the edges. Chastity hoped she could help her rise above it as she had not so long ago. But that’s another story.

So what’s the point of these long, drawn out stories? Well, for one thing, apparently I like to write semi-fiction. But the other thing is that either of these girls fit classic examples of “sluts”. They are both rather extreme cases, but it brings us back to the question my friend asked me: What is “the difference between a woman who is labeled a slut and a woman who’s comfortable with her sexuality.” The actual answer is: not a damn thing. (Because it depends on the subjective veiwpoint of the person labeling them.) But again, since we’re making an attempt to differentiate anyway, the difference is based on the choices that are made, the process, and the results.

A woman like Chastity can sleep with literally hundreds of men, in control and smart about every encounter. Meanwhile a woman like Monroe can sleep with three in one night, out of control and making bad choices. If somebody put a gun to my head and said “label one a slut or you die”, I would have to go with Monroe. She made poor decisions, and allowed people who’s sole purpose was to have their with her do so without asserting herself. That said I would not fault her, or anyone, personally as I know that some frat houses are a well oiled machines (as I tried to illustrate) designed to take advantage of naive women. But the fact remains that I have personally watched a situation like this happen in a far less understandable way than Monroe’s, with a girl who was not nearly as naive, and that sort of blatant bad decision making and irresponsibility qualifies somebody as “sluttier” in my mind than a woman who has intelligently and cleanly slept with many men.

In closing I want to reiterate what I said in the first place though. The word “slut” is a ridiculous double-standard. The question put to me was specifically in regards to women, so I focused on that angle, but the majority of the time, that word is simply a tool used by men (like those frat guys) to shame women that they previously had no qualms about trying to get with. It’s just another representation of the still-present archaic societal misogyny that would be better off killed with fire and forgotten forever.

You don’t know who you are

You will never completely know or understand who you are. There’s a whole unknown you floating in your subconscious that only shows itself through dreams and surreal moments when you act in ways you thought you never would or could. In some ways it represents your potential and depending on how you develop yourself that potential could be amazing, but it could also be disastrous. Sigmund Freud would probably say that trying to get to know yourself on this level is trying to get more in touch with your Id and Super-Ego at the same time.

“There are no mistakes.”

It’s a bit ironic actually, because the Ego (the moderator between those two) can be such a robust and confident thing when it really has no right to be. The truth is we spend the majority of our lives trying to figure ourselves out (and that’s okay!) I should actually say that the smart folks spend their days trying to better figure themselves out. Unfortunately far too many people are busy looking outward than inward. So they define things (especially the shitty stuff) by what their environment and those that inhabit it have shown them, instead of trying to figure out what they’re doing in that environment to begin with.

Don’t misunderstand me, I realize that people are often born into very unfortunate environments and circumstances. As I’ve illustrated in previous posts, my own circumstances weren’t exactly roses and rainbows. Some people don’t get to learn about themselves. It’s Maslow’s pyramid and they don’t make it past the first level.

An old friend of mine and I were discussing Maslow’s pyramid the other day and it both complimented and derailed what I intended to write about. For those of you uninitiated, the essential idea is that human needs and progression happen on five levels. The base of this pyramid are basic needs: food, water, sleep, sex (though.. I believe this transcends a bit… let’s call it “reproduction”,) oxygen, etc.

Once you’ve got your basic needs covered,the next level involved safety on every level. Protection from the elements, security in your job/income/lifestyle, and basic personal safety. All the things that lay the foundation for some level of confidence in your life. But once you get all that figured out, you get to start on the advanced stuff.

“Shit.. was that level 1 or level 3?”

Level three of Maslow’s pyramid consists of social developmental needs. This fuels the desire for popularity in high school and then evolves into being accepted and respected by your peers at work while simultaneously developing friendship, intimacy (there’s that sex again!), affection and, of course, love in your personal life. Each step of this pyramid can be a life-long endeavor for many individuals, but I would wager that a very large percentage get stuck here (including, it seems, me.)

The good news is, you don’t necessarily have to achieve any of these levels in any sort of traditional manner to begin work on the next level. Hell, I’m relatively sure you don’t even have to make it halfway. As long as you have a basic understanding of achievement on any given level, you can probably grasp the next level as well. But that’s dangerous, because the point of the pyramid is to illustrated how to form a solid foundation for each level and building on an unfinished foundation can (obviously) end up in disaster.

But let’s say you jump to the next level and go for the really advanced stuff. Level four of Maslow’s pyramid is all about going from being accepted, to leading and transcending the pack. Achievement, mastery, independence, status, dominance, prestige, self-respect, and respect from others are the needs this level presents. By this time, you’ve figured out how to play the game of life, and now you need to do better than just play well, you need to excel at it.

Maslow’s pyramid for the modern age.

Should you manage to develop yourself to the point of excelling at life in terms of what you want to achieve and what you want your peers to recognize about you, you’re ready for the supposed pinnacle of the pyramid: Total self-actualization. Now we’re getting into super-human territory that involves setting world records, becoming billionaires, scaling Mt. Everest, or becoming the President. Fortunately for a fair percentage of the people who are trying to fulfill this need also realize this potential by helping others find their way up the pyramid. On the flip-side though, this is where the world’s absolute worst humans do the worst damage.

The point of that quick overview though was to illustrate a point: you’ll never reach total self-actualization because you will never completely know and understand yourself. Even if you somehow thought you did, you can’t, because it’s fluid. That’s actually one of the great joys of life. One of the greatest strengths of humanity is it’s fluidity and adaptability. Some very smart, very enlightened people close to me struggle with this a lot and admittedly I do as well because it’s frankly exhausting if you don’t step back to recognize it for what it really is: growth. Not only is it growth, but it’s advanced growth that only a certain percentage of people in the world have the luxury of knowing.

It’s a given that people reach the fifth level of Maslow’s pyramid all the time, but as I

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Oh…

mentioned earlier, a lot of those people left an essential level undeveloped… some skipped it entirely and paid for it. They are easy to see, the people who seem to have everything, experienced so much, but are still miserable. They act out, break down, and sometimes die far too early and sometimes by their own hand.

The point in all this psycho-babble is that I’ve realized that the biggest mistake we can make is attempting to rush through or force our personal development. We seek to master our environment and to balance that out we must seek to master ourselves. But both are fluid and can never really be mastered, so we have to realize that it’s enough to continue learning, continue developing and build our foundations strong on each level so we have a solid base when we someday reach the top of our own personal pyramid.

You don’t know who you are, and you never will, but the point is continuing to get to know yourself. When you do, you get to the fun part: Being pleasantly surprised and amazed at what you can do… and then being able to live happily with it.

You Don’t Have To “Follow Your Dreams”

“What do you want to do?” “What do you want to be?” “What’s your passion?” “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “What do you dream of being?”

Rich. And Happy. With Kids.

Oh, you want to know how? Well fuck off, I don’t know. Except I do, and that is: whatever I can do that will get me there while keeping me happy, letting me live my life, and allowing me to keep my dignity intact/stay true to myself.

I suppose that’s awfully specific for somebody that doesn’t know, but as a thirty-six year old single male that achieved “full yuppie”, and then spent months unemployed until just recently, I’ve had a lot of experience and a fair amount of time to mull this over. What I figured out is that all those questions above seem encouraging and productive, but they can, in fact, be exactly the opposite. They can demotivate and even create insecurity where there doesn’t need to be any.

Obviously they had different priorities…

The thing is, some people have dreams when they are little, but as we grow, we change and (hopefully) so do our priorities. When we’re kids, a lot of us really hate taking naps. Sleep is so boring! But years later, as an adult, nap time is a close second (and let’s face it, depending on the person, it’s possibly not second) to the horizontal mambo. We grow, we learn, priorities change, and so does what we dream of.

When I was a young boy, I wanted to be a fighter pilot so badly that I studied different aircraft, their capabilities, their combat roles, and even the engines that powered them and who made them. I thought the SR-71 Blackbird was the coolest thing in the world. I grew up, took the ASVAB, aced it, and made the Marines love me (yes, I know I should’ve talked to the Air Force first, but that Staff Sergeant talked a good game.) They told me I could take my pick of assignments between the AV-8B Harrier II (the jet that can take off vertically and hover) or the F-18 Hornet (The fastest and most maneuverable mainstream fighter the US produced at the time.) I was sold on the F-18 and made a soft commitment to enlist I trained with Staff Sergeant Johnson to prepare for boot camp while learning more and more about the program. It would entail military “basic” school, the Naval Academy, and then Flight School specializing (in my case) in fixed-wing aviation. The long and the short of this was a minimum of a fourteen year commitment once I signed on the dotted line. And when that day came, my eighteen-year-old self thought about my friends, my girlfriend, and the person I thought I would become, and I walked away (Sorry Staff Sergeant Johnson.) Once I got realistic about my childhood dream, I didn’t want it any more, and that as okay.

Most dreams seem to involve mountains and sunsets…

But especially in recent years, society has moved to this obsession with goals/dreams. People who don’t have a specific one are in danger of being labeled as unfocused, distracted, lacking direction, drifters, or any number of relatively negative terms. This, in turn, can make people who don’t really have a specific dream feel insecure about the lack of that dream. They can begin to think there might be something wrong with them and feel like they need to invent a “passion” to define themselves. This can have the opposite effect, and lead to an abundance of wasted time pretending to care about something that is ultimately unfulfilling. Such a situation is much more common that we might think and can easily lead to a number of psychological issues. Ironically, inventing your passion is a very effective way of stifling a real passion you may not know you have yet.

For instance, I remember looking at characters in movies that weren’t the good or bad guy, but were the “right-hand man” and thinking “That would be neat… I could totally be THAT guy rather than the main good/bad guy.” It wasn’t a dream, it was just a respect for that sort of person that I identified with passively. A couple of decades later that’s the majority of my recent professional experience. Even better is that I (generally) like it and have made as much, or more than most of the people I know who are “following their passions”. I never thought to myself “Someday I’m going to be this awesome Executive Assistant!” but by being open to it and accepting the natural evolution of my career in that direction, I realized that I was, in fact, actualizing something I had passively envisioned more than a few times.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not hating on people who have and follow their dreams. I have a ton of respect for them. Many of my very close friends have pursued their dreams and passions and are reaping the rewards of their dedication over the years. They worked hard, put in their time, (most) suffered to some degree, and are rewarded by the option of doing what they always wanted to do. But that’s not everyone, and more importantly it doesn’t have to be everyone. We have to dispel the idea that dreams = life success. They can most certainly create motivation to succeed, but they are not a requirement. There are a number of other ways to motivate yourself.

And that’s OKAY!

Achievement and/or success often breeds motivation, and sometimes it takes a whole lot of trying things and failing to find it. Further, you may very well find that what you succeed at is something you never even considered before. That’s where business roles that I call “tool” types come from. They aren’t what you typically think of when you dream of what you want to become. Therefore they often aren’t “visionaries” or well-known business leaders. But instead of having their own dream, they enable/assist the dreamers in order to grow and take their visions to whole new levels.

Maybe you never dreamed of being an accountant, but you find you’re naturally good at it, and it rewards you well leading to job satisfaction and general financial success. That process can make people pretty happy. The same can be said for what I do as an Executive Assistant. I get to live vicariously through extremely successful CEOs, Inventors, Celebrities and other notable dreamers. I am compensated well and often enjoy a number of (expensive) fringe benefits without the drawbacks of being imbalanced as said visionaries often are (out of necessity really.) I stay balanced and I help to balance them, leading to a great deal of personal and job satisfaction.

There are countless roles that can lead to professional success as an “enabler” or “tool”. So I’m not saying don’t dream, I’m just saying that if you don’t have a specific dream, don’t stress it. Provide for yourself (and those you need to provide for) and take pride in that accomplishment. Just keep trying to improve yourself. Try things, fail (more than) a few times if you need to, and focus on what you want for yourself. You don’t have to have a direction as long as you keep yourself moving forward in some way. Keep making your own path, cutting through the jungle of life and you might just find that you look up and discover something that you or nobody else had thought of yet. Accidents like that have made a lot of people both rich and happy.

What Exactly Is It About #911 You Plan To #NeverForget?

This is not a happy, fluffy post. This is not a thoughtful and peaceful post. This post will piss some of you off. In fact, I might even lose a couple friends over this, but that’s okay because if I do, fundamentally we wouldn’t have worked out anyway. But if you do plan to run off at some point, I ask that in the name of whatever our relationship up to this point has meant, you finish reading because I can’t promise all of this will come out coherently and in the order I intend, and maybe something, at some point will resonate with you a little. Maybe.

So today is the anniversary of a tragic natural disaster. Yep. Natural. I say this because you, and all those around you, are the single worst disaster that nature has ever come up with. Worse than earthquakes, category five hurricanes and the black plague put together. Your kind has murdered more life on this planet than any other force. Period.

What’s worse is that your general level of accountability (as a species) for being said disaster is proportionately microscopic compared to the damage you’ve done and continue to do. Now I say “you” because I’m talking to you. But I’m not excluding myself. I do plenty of things on a daily basis that cause harm to my environment and the living things around me. Some of it is necessary for my own continued survival (such as cooking food and destroying living bacteria) and some of it is not (such as producing waste from my consumption that ultimately damages the environment.) So I’m no innocent, at all, in fact I’m the first to tell many people close to me that I’m a relatively evil creature. But at least I know it.

What prompted me to write this… what grates at me like an itch I just had to scratch is the sheer amount of pompous mindlessness and ridiculous American elitism that stems from the anniversary of this disaster. The divide that is celebrated by people that weren’t even born or able to comprehend what was happening when this happened by using trendy hashtags.

Never forget? Never forget what!? That your brother’s, uncle’s dog was friends with somebody who knew somebody that died that day? And because of that you feel cool wearing your patriotic colors, openly hating on billions of people, and tossing up hashtags on social media so people can see how like Captain America you are? This shit is the problem. If that’s you, you’re part of the problem, and you will play a part in CREATING more of these disasters. And it’s not even your fault if you’re that young, because you’ve been taught that by those around you who validate themselves and whatever they feel (fear, hate, pride, whatever…) about this disaster by spouting off bullshit regarding the evil people in whatever flavor of the week it is.

On this day fourteen years ago, some ignorant, extremist humans that falsely represented a particular religion gave a huge amount of other ignorant humans what they falsely feel is justification to hate an entire culture. That is what happened, and that is only what happened. Everything else was done by those who had nothing to do with the original actions. Countless more terror and harm was caused by those claiming to be the good guys… to help, by bringing forth divine retribution for these horrible actions no matter the cost. They all succeeded. Those evil men on that plane succeeded and continue to because you people want an excuse to hate, and by god it’s your right as an American to take it. Further, your own people have used that same rationale against you to repress you and further their own agendas. How easily you are manipulated by hate and fear.

The faces of duty.

Now that I’m sure you’re suitably pissed off at how ignorant I am, or how narrow-minded I am being, let me clarify a few things. This is not about the soldiers. Soldiers sign up to do a job, a necessary job, and they follow orders. Without them, legions of evil and murderous people from all over the world, both within and outside our country would indeed invade and subjugate, murder or otherwise destroy us. Soldiers have to exist because hateful, animalistic humans exist and societies need to protect themselves from them. It’s a dirty job and they have to do it, end of story. I understand that, I support that, and I support them regardless of the many ridiculous and evil decisions their associates and superiors may make at times. And I know that many of them suffered themselves as a result of this tragedy and the decisions made as a result of it.

I am also most certainly not speaking of the actual victims of this tragedy. Not just those that lost somebody dear to them in the attack, or the live witnesses, or the brave responders, but those whose families suffered as a result of the circumstances that have followed. There are very few things more dangerous than a scared, cornered animal, and that’s how 9/11 made a lot of people, possibly most of our country, feel. Thus prompting them to do some very stupid, hateful things to very innocent people.

Most importantly, I am absolutely not speaking to the little girl who is probably not even Muslim, but looks like she could be and has her head covered in a similar manner. Today perhaps more likely than any other day this year, she might be struck in the head by a rock, brick or bottle thrown by somebody who thinks it’s okay to #NeverForget that he hates people, even though he lives thousands of miles away from what happened. In truth, both of those people are victims, one who has been taught to hate by the rallying call of “Merica’!” and the other, an innocent who is afraid that people will think that she is like the evil men on those planes when nothing could be farther from the truth.

Pass it down to the next generation…

The people I’m speaking to are those who perpetuate this hate and teach it to those who know no different. I’m speaking to those who make this tragedy so much more important than so many other tragedies because, let’s face it, it’s popular and of course “oh my god how dare this happen here! In the promised land of America instead of some other part of the world where it’s much more common… and still happening.” The irony, of course being that the men on those planes were also taught to hate, that’s what got them on those planes to begin with, the rallying cry was (falsely) for “Allah” instead of “Merica’ ” but in truth the difference ends there and the people here who are filled with that hate for them are far closer to the men on those planes than the little girl who looks like she could be, and isn’t.

That’s right, some of you that are far removed from this disaster but still use #911 to #NeverForget and promote mindless patriotism are dangerously close to the thinking of the men who caused this tragedy. It doesn’t end there, because that same hate is rampant towards everything that you believe is against you, your people, or your god. And when it comes down to that, there is very little difference. Because I’ve seen beneath your cool, civilized exterior, and I know what you would do to some of the people you are afraid of if you thought you could get away with it. Maybe you’ve risen above generalizing a primarily peaceful religion as full of terrorists. Maybe your flavor of hate is against black people, white people, gay people, straight people, female people, male people, little people or big people. But no matter your flavor, the moment you hate any particular group of people for simply being what they are, especially if it’s because you believe your god says you should, you are resonating with the men who caused and participated in the tragedy fourteen years ago.

Speaking of your god… Like many ideal concepts, religion can be a wonderful and amazing thing full of light. But let’s face it, humans suck at ideal concepts. For every one person who understands and does it right, there will be two more manipulative or just plain ignorant fucks who will twist it to their own flawed vision. Because of this, they fail. They fail the people who rely on them, and they fail the people outside of them. Instead of light, they breed hate. Instead of enlightenment, they breed ignorance. Instead of truth, they breed deceit and manipulation. This is not the fault of any god, this is the fault of ignorant people who are given free will and fail at it. It leaves the people who do it right outnumbered and powerless. Those people, who instinctively understand the true purpose of religion is to lift people, all people, up and try to bring them together are left struggling to not drown in the sea of those vying for power and pushing their (in)human agendas. That, my friends is exactly what caused this natural, human disaster fourteen years ago. And by the way, this wasn’t even close to the first time slaughter and senseless death has occurred in the name of religion… but of course you already know that. Where are those hashtags? I guess it’s not trendy or American enough.

So you won’t find me posting pictures of the twin towers, or firefighters that may or may not have even been there (but it’s a cool dramatic photo anyway.) And you won’t find me using #911 (seriously how confusing is that?!) or #NeverForget past this case because I wasn’t anywhere near the disaster and it’s had very little effect on my day-to-day life outside of giving some of the asshats that used to run my country the liberty to make bad decisions. I’m not going to tell you to #NeverForget what happened fourteen years ago today, because if you care that much you should be paying attention to this shit every day. And it’s not about reminding others to not forget, it’s about reminding yourself.

As I said above, I’m not trying to play holier than thou. I’ll be the first to admit there is an evil thing inside of me. It hates, it wants to hurt/kill people it thinks are wrong and it is lazy, apathetic and unmotivated when it comes to helping the community as a whole. But my saving grace is that I know better, and I try to do the three things I would ask any of you to do: Be aware, control it, and try to be a better person.

You want something to #NeverForget?

#NeverForget that to some people you are only a couple of steps away from being the men on that plane.
#NeverForget that hate and ignorance caused this and it continues to cause countless deaths and tragedies every day. #NeverForget that just because we live in a country that spends more on defense then the next sixteen countries on the list combined, we are not any more special than the people who do not, and who suffer tragedies like this yearly, monthly, weekly or daily.
#NeverForget that instead of posting empty, inspiring images and hashtagging them all over social media, you could be looking within yourself and tending to that part of you that is afraid of something different.
#NeverForget that when your fear produces hate as a reflex, you can fight that, and think, and do the one thing that humans are capable of that sets them apart from the animals they also recklessly destroy.
#NeverForget that you can reason past your emotions and knee-jerk reactions in order to try to be a better person. #NeverForget that you can support victims of tragedies and disasters quietly and consistently in your own way without needing an event to spur you to action. And…
#NeverForget that the first and most important step to solving any problem is being aware that you might be a part of it, and if so doing your best to minimize that.

The “Hook-Up Culture” Myth

I keep hearing the term “hook-up culture” and it being used in a derogatory manner. They say that it’s causing “the decline of meaningful relationships” and indeed if you look at some of the statistics compared to the days of yore it can be twisted to reflect such a message. But the fact of the matter is that it’s bullshit. In fact, the term “hook-up culture” is just a way to generalize a much broader concept: sexual self-reliance.

“I didn’t want to be dominated by anyone...” (Hell yes Emma!!)

“I didn’t want to be dominated by anyone…” (Damn straight Emma, you tell em’!)

The most common story comes from those crazy college kids these days that are just getting together and having wild drunken sex parties. But they act like this is something new. This is not new, it just keeps getting better. Looking beyond the filthy bullshit that is male entitled rape culture (I know it’s a bleak reality, but I’ve ranted about that already and that’s not the point here…) and what you have are individuals that aren’t afraid to be individuals. But to say that this is a college thing, or that it’s a new concept is ridiculous. I literally read an article yesterday about Emma Murano, a woman who is one-hundred and fifteen years old and do you know what she credits her longevity to? Raw eggs and being single since 1938. Do you think she’s been celibate since 1938? Hell no.

The truth is that “hooking up” has been happening forever and the current time frame isn’t even the first time it’s been given a name. In Roman times it was a common occurrence (especially among the higher classes.) Hundreds of years later in the 60s and 70s it was “free love”, but then many referred to it as a “counter-culture” made up of “dirty hippies”. That’s basically what happens now. Certain groups of narrow-minded people that fear the concept try to generalize and degrade it with labels. The same goes today with those trying to label and put a negative spin on “Hook-Up Culture”. You don’t have to look far to read about how this culture is “destroying” things like “traditional dating”, “modern romance”, “Love as we know it”, “Gay youth culture” and even an entire generation. I mean.. shit! Who knew the power of getting it on with somebody you probably don’t want to be with forever was so potent! Next time we got to war, instead of sending the troops over and dropping bombs, let’s just send some “Hook-Up Culture” ambassadors to their country to fuck the love right out of their whole generation! It’s a crisis!

…and sending THAT text when the mood strikes…

What has really happened is that with the power of the internet and support that was previously too hidden or distant for us to see, individuals have found that they don’t have to conform to outdated and gender-bias/misogynistic traditions or rules to run their romantic life. Instead, they feel more comfortable wanting what they want and the fear of god/society/etc no longer keeps many of them from acting on those desires. Now it’s okay to be a successful unmarried woman with a healthy sexual appetite (we have shows about this now!) Likewise you’re not a loser if as a man you don’t have or even want a wife or family. We’ve gotten to the point where we can talk about men hooking up with men, women hooking up with women, and gender-neutral people hooking up with both, or none, or whatever they prefer. “Hookup Culture” isn’t about hooking up at all really, it’s about people deciding they are going to sexually be what they want, fuck who they want (as long the partner is willing…) and not have to conform to meet expectations. There’s no more hooking up than there ever was before (trust me.. your parents had just as much sex, they were just afraid to talk about it.) We’re simply being more open, educated, intelligent and accepting of it all as a part of our lives. That scares a lot of the more traditionally conservative people to death, so they feel the need to slap a label on it and cry doomsday.

But you know what? Love is still happening. Marriage is still happening. Kids are still happening (granted Japan is in a bit of a population crisis… you might wanna make a few more babies over there…) If the birth rate goes down a little in the US or even the world, that’s okay for a while. We have a pretty serious global over-population issue as it is and a lot of quality human beings with a great deal of potential that need adopting.

Go ahead and try to tell me those children don’t have a beautiful family life. 🙂

Speaking of which, thanks to hook-up culture, we have a new breed of successful singles that don’t have to be married but want kids. Those folks along with the growing government acceptance of gay marriage (which is also simultaneously “destroying” most of the things Hook-up Culture is…. along with the “sanctity of marriage”) are giving a lot of those kids who need adopting really amazing homes and families. I’ve personally witnessed better parenting from some of these singles/couples than I’ve seen from a great deal of heterosexual parents that either accidentally reproduced or did so under pressure from their non-hook-up culture (when they didn’t even really want children.) Who’s going to be the better parent? The ones who feel forced to have kids they aren’t sure they want, or the ones that have to deliberately apply and invest in a very thorough process in order to raise children they actually really want? Which of those family situations is more likely to produce better-rounded contributors to our upcoming generations?

If “Hook-up Culture” is a real phenomenon and things are truly changing so drastically, then it’s for the better. Perhaps the traditional marriage rate is dropping, but if that’s true, then I would wager the majority of the marriages that aren’t happening would’ve been the unhappy ones. The truth about culture now is that it’s becoming the sexually and romantically liberated culture. People are learning that they can have sex, and it can just be sex. They can have love, with whoever they want. They understand that sex and love do not have to be mutually exclusive (but they still certainly can be, if they want it to be.) Most importantly they are realizing that there’s not a damn thing wrong with any of that.

Oh my god you’re right!! LOVE IS DYING!

Love and romance cannot simply be killed off because somebody got a boner for a girl he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life with and she liked how his abs looked when he was shirtless, so they did their thing and got on with their lives. I like to think love is a bit stronger than that. I’m also pretty certain that both “Generation Y” and “Gay Youth” are doing better than before because of the shift towards acceptance of individual sexuality. (and honestly we still have a long way to go…) In the end, “Hook-Up Culture” is just a label that will be used and abused as propaganda (which is almost always false.) If there’s been a cultural shift, hooking up is a product of it, not the reason.

The Case for Being Selfish

“Being good doesn’t mean good things will happen to you…” -Rumplestiltskin (Once Upon A Time)

A long time ago in a land far far away… I was a villain. Some days I think I still am. I share a lot of the same traits: selfishness, narcissism, disregard for a lot of the “rules” and a general distain towards humanity as a whole. There’s some things that changed as I grew and if I am still a bad guy, I might be a bit more honorable… if only by my own code. I actively try to be better anyway.

Yay for ironic double-meanings!

One thing I can’t seem to make it around though, is my own selfishness. But I think I know why. The fact of the matter is, generally speaking the world is selfish. Humans, by nature are selfish. People find all kinds of ways to sugar-coat it and feel better about themselves, but at the end of the day almost everyone places higher value on themselves and those more important to themselves. What this also means, is that those who decide to try not to be selfish will never receive their due. At the very least they will generally receive less appreciation than they are due, and at most (and probably far too often) they will be completely and utterly taken advantage of. They are rewarded by being stripped bare and left with nothing because people took with malice, carelessness or simply didn’t think about the affect their actions would have on the giver. When a tree bears fruit, there are proper times and ways to harvest the fruit so that it can bear fruit again easily. The same can be said for those willing to give selflessly, but all too often the right way is ignored for the sake of personal gain.

I have, in the past, attempted to be a “better” person, by acting selflessly, giving without expectation and trying not to judge those who seem ignorant to plight of those around them.

Well, fuck that.

Though now I still occasionally, (even often) give, no longer is it without strings. It is no longer selfless. Those I give to I either owe, or want them to owe me. I suppose in some cases I do so simply for the feeling of making them happy and, in turn, making myself happy. But even then it’s a form of “brownie points” with them or -at the very least- my own personal satisfaction. I contribute to the system, I show respect to those around me on the surface and I don’t go out of my way to mess with anyone else’s world (unless they do so with mine…) But I don’t feel I owe the world anything, and I don’t have any desire to give to it without expectation of return. Maybe that makes me a part of the problem, but the truth is the real problem is the system and society that encourages selfishness.

Those at the top are selfish, they look after themselves and their own before others. Even the modern-day great philanthropists: Bill Gates, Warren Buffet, Bono, etc. are businessmen and celebrities who amassed fortunes most average people cannot even dream of before spending fractions of those fortunes to try and make the world a better place. Meanwhile famous “selfless” humanitarians such as Mother Teresa are loaded with contradiction and agenda (often religious) over the actual care of the people. (I’m not going into it, but head over to google and do some research, especially the last 50 years or so of her life are said to have been quite contradictory to her image.)

So what’s the lesson here? I’m not saying “don’t give” or “don’t be selfless ever”. Remember that moderation is necessary in all things! I’m saying be okay with being selfish first. Look after yourself and don’t be afraid to say no to those who ask for things unless they earn it. Just because you have, doesn’t mean you have to give. Many of the people mentioned above had a lot before they really began to give. Now, you don’t have to be the asshole that I admittedly am sometimes, as I said, it’s often questionable whether or not I’m still a bad guy. But people will try to make you feel guilty about having and not giving, which is ridiculous because they are all too eager to take from you and give much less in return.

Try it sometime, if you’re a natural nice person and giver and you feel you have a lot of great friends around all the time who value you, test it. For a little while, for whatever reason, just stop giving whatever it is you freely put out there; be it attention, money, things, affection, what have you. For a short time, keep these things to yourself and see what happens. I am willing to bet that a large percentage of those friends will give you less as well. Some will call less, visit less or even disappear. Do you know why? Because their relationship with you was never unconditional just as you have to face that yours probably wasn’t with them either. Even our relationships are selfish, so it’s okay for us to decide what we’re going to give, what not to give and what it’s worth. Relationships in any form are usually some sort of unwritten contract, and when you change the terms, what you get will also change.

People like him for his selflessness…

I tend to lean toward the Liberal side of politics; I think Norway has it right in terms of taxes and public systems and I believe the concepts of socialism and even communism in it’s purest forms are great ideas. But humans can’t pull it off because they are too inherently selfish and greedy. Even if some can reason past it for the greater good, it only takes a small percentage to ruin an otherwise perfect system. That’s why such things only work in limited degrees when properly implemented by government, and only when there’s enough reasonable people to overrule the many that are blindly selfish.

But this isn’t about politics, this is about individuals. This is about me. Someday I would love to have the resources to be a humanitarian like Bill Gates or Warren Buffet or even (to a lesser degree) George Clooney. But if I am, I’m going to get mine first and I’m going to give to and look after those who earn it first. Show me you deserve it, and I will enjoy feeling obligated to give to you. But make me feel as though I’m being taken for granted, and I will withdraw as quickly as I put myself out there. Whether it be attention, money, time or even love.. I will give to the right people,I but I have to look after myself before I can give to anyone else. That might be selfish, but that’s what this world has shown me and given me, that’s how the game is played. Until the majority of this world decides the change the rules for the better of us all, I’ll play the hand I’ve been dealt, and win.

I wish I could help you all.

Everyday I see you. On Social media, passing by while I eat lunch and even interacting with me on various levels. Everyday I see a new reminder of somebody that feels like they are missing something, somebody, anything to fill that hole they feel. They feel trapped, restrained or empty. I get it, because I feel it too sometimes. But what makes me sad is that you’re wandering, searching, and you don’t have the slightest idea for what. You grasp at straws over and over thinking “Maybe this will fix it!” “Maybe this will make me feel better!” Sometimes it does. But it’s usually only temporary.

When I read, see, hear or otherwise encounter you… it’s one of the few times I wish that I could say “I’m sorry.” I’m arrogant enough to think I know what you need, and I believe that if in some cases you knew me, and trusted me… or in other cases I was willing to compromise myself, I could give it to you. But in those cases you do not, and in other cases I cannot.

I am fortunate that the universe moves me along the path to intervene in the lives of those where it sees fit. It is, in fact, an honor to have a lasting effect on any individual’s life. But when I see so many others suffering, not because they deserve it, but because they believe they do… it makes me angry. I don’t want to talk down to those people. I, too, have a darkness and emptiness I wrestle with regularly, so it’s not pity I feel… it’s kindrid.. and it’s resentment toward the hard lessons people have to sometimes spend their whole lives learning. It’s not fair.

Ahhh.. but as I said, I am arrogant. To speak as if there isn’t a reason. I believe there is, a greater reason to a greater system. But that doesn’t mean that now, in this moment they deserve to feel like this. These are good people who only hurt themselves (not literally.. most of the time) and harm nobody. They have good hearts, better than mine, and yet are subjected to harsh lessons and robbed of their ability to flourish. Now, perhaps it will make them stronger and they will flourish even more down the road. I like that hope… I like to think everyone gets theirs in the end…In this life.

This isn’t them, it’s the fear and hate of the ones before them, but they may never escape it.

But they don’t. That’s the reality of this world. In order to get what you deserve in this world, you must first believe you deserve it. But often those closest to you rob you of that belief, that hope, from day one. This too makes me angry. Society is broken, humanity is broken. From generation to generation scars are passed down often in the forms of blessings. Repression, restraint, control, greed, helplessness, wrong.. “you’re wrong because…” This is what assaults you from the womb, from day one, and often from those you’re supposed to trust the most. Their wounds bleed on to you and you suffer their sins as they suffered the sins of those before them because from the beginning you’ve always be taught that if you don’t do what they think is right, whatever they’ve been programmed to think is right… then you’re wrong.

THAT is where that hole comes from. THAT is where the emptiness begins. The ego is chipped away and insecurity wreaks havoc on your soul. This damage keeps you from feeling complete because you can’t be complete if you don’t feel right being you. It doesn’t go away either. It resurfaces over and over again and if you can’t fight, it consumes you. Sometimes the people who helped put it there tell you that they know what you need to fix it. But you don’t need to be fixed. You’re not actually broken, you’re just afraid of who you are, so you can’t be who you are.

I believe in love. I believe in people that belong together and compliment each other’s lives perhaps even into the next life. But I don’t ever believe that a relationship is two halves. It’s two wholes. And the best way to find your other whole is to do your best to make yourself as whole as possible. But you’re really, really afraid of that. In fact, you may not even realize it’s what you need. But I promise you, no matter where you come from, what your beliefs are, or what your heritage is, the one thing you need more than anything or anyone in this world, is to be you. And be the you that you were born to be, and be so fucking happy about who you are and what you represent that nothing anyone can say or do will convince you that you need to be anything but who you are.

Don’t ever let your family, friends, teachers, pastors, boyfriends, girlfriends, strangers or (for the love of god..) media tell you who you are or what you should be. Don’t let ME tell you who you should be. Nobody has to, because way deep down you already know. And THAT is all you need to listen to. That is the voice of you in the universe telling you that you’re perfect being you (flaws and all.)

I don’t care about a lot of things… or maybe on a different level I do. But what makes me feel… what makes me sad, is when I see good hearted, talented, intelligent, amazing people restrained, self-loathing, depressed, repressed, hurt or otherwise abused because they’ve been infected by this thing we call society. What’s supposed to help people by bringing them together now traps them in shallow lies, evil intentions and empty promises. It makes them scared to be who they are, and makes them hate themselves because they don’t fit what only a small percentage of people in this world believe is ideal. These people who could potentially save the world… the entire human race… are squandered because of false pride, rampant ego, and the fear and insecurity that has controlled those before them since nearly the beginning of civilization.

Most of us have been there.

I see it. It makes me angry. It makes me sad. Even though I am privileged enough to know that in a very large picture, even suffering has it’s place, it’s reasons… it doesn’t mean that it’s fair. The system is balanced, and it will balance itself and we are only a part of a much greater system. But I see the individual lights. I see you, there at night alone and afraid to face yourself. But you have to face yourself, you have to fight all the wrong that been crammed in your head that tells you you’re anything but magnificent. And I wish i could help you. I wish I could help you all. I wish I could help you be you.

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The Grey Area

Moderate. Libertine. Hedonist.

Society

A little perspective after a long time

A Story Of Sluts

You don’t know who you are

You Don’t Have To “Follow Your Dreams”

What Exactly Is It About #911 You Plan To #NeverForget?

The “Hook-Up Culture” Myth

The Case for Being Selfish

I wish I could help you all.