Fanatics and Tyrants, Terrorists and Citizens

The conspiracy theorists and their internet talk radio shows are the real terrorist groups in this country, spouting off about a tyrannical government and selling their rhetoric and propaganda to weak minded people with less than ideal emotional stability. Telling them to buy assault rifles and prepare for government tyranny. Keeping them all on high alert after an election, giving them more reason to hate the current president, and telling them the media isn't reporting the truth about another school massacre, that the "killer" was merely a patsy and that the government is coming to your door next week, to take away your guns!"

Responsible gun owners, do not stockpile assault rifles in their homes, preparing for the "tyrannical government" to come try to take their guns. Responsible gun owners are the people who own a hunting rifle, even a pistol. Whether for sport or protection, they are not INVITING a firefight for any "government agency" who wishes to take their guns away. Fanatical crazy people are buying assault rifles and collecting them just LOOKING for a reason to use them. The government has every right to want to remove these automatic weapons from the hands of unstable individuals, however... for every legally obtained gun in this country, I am willing to bet there are several black market firearms. The real threat is not the people who allow the "government" to know they have guns in the house. Aside from the few idiots who are dumb enough to let them know they have multiple assault rifles... maybe THEY are the patsy's? How else would taking guns from responsible and sane people who register and apply for the necessary licenses help reduce the number of violent gun crimes in this country?

I think the government might have a better shot at trying to bring something to the table that might shut up the fools that are feeding the crazies, telling them to stop drinking the water and stop taking their meds... They are creating an army of domestic terrorists, fanatical and racist. Feeding their minds with thoughts of "race wars" and "FEMA camps" and "Lizard people" and so on. 

I do not like the direction that American society has turned in, however, I am a law abiding citizen. I'd feel far less comfortable around a racist, militant atheist, doomsday prepper than I would around a suspended cop with a drinking problem. 

I have come up with some great ideas in my life, every one of them someone else already beat me to... I am certain that if I can see a clear difference in the psychology of a lunatic with a gun and a responsible gun owner, that the government of the great country I live in can see it as well. My discomfort of fanatical behavior is based on healthy instinct, nothing short of miraculous given my history.

Historically Hindered: The Roles Will Eventually Roll, Full Circle

Let me be the first to admit that I was a spoiled, selfish, materialistic, child.

Was I born that way? NO. 

Did society help mold me? YES. 

Did my parents help enable that to happen? YES.

Did they do the best they could with what they had given the circumstances? YES.

Kids growing up a decade before me, and a decade after me appear to be at different ends of this spectrum. It's as if no parent knows how to relate to their own child today, because each generation is technologically advanced 10x over the last. For example: My parents didn't have color TV or Cable, so they couldn't relate to my addiction to shows. I didn't have internet or life-like video games, so I can't relate to my child's addiction to electronics. 

The word, "addiction" may appear to be used loosely in this case. However, in my recovery I have learned about how unmanageable my life became because of my addiction, and the loss of values that came with defending my right to have my vice. If a child isn't doing his homework or chores, if he is not eating, sleeping, bathing, or going to school, but rather playing online or gaming until all hours of the night... If he is lying about the amount of time he is engaged... If he is becoming combative when confronted, or physically aggressive when his "toys" are taken away... If his life is completely unmanageable due to the use and abuse of technology... Your child may be addicted. 

When I was a kid my parents had one TV in the whole house, we didn't even have cable until I was 14. However, even then I wasn't allowed to sit and watch TV, my parents had control. Kids today have smart phones, MP-3 players, e-readers, tablets, handheld video games, and portable DVD players. When I was a kid, no TV for a week was not a punishment, it was a way to get more into something else for a week, I was still allowed to listen to music on my stereo (the walk-man came later). Today, no gadgets for a week is next to impossible. The parents' frustration is mounting, yet excuses are ridiculous, "He needs it for school... I can't take his phone away, how will he reach me... I don't want him to feel like he doesn't have the things all the other kids have". Would we be saying the same thing if all the kids had crack pipes or syringes and the drugs to put in them? Of course not. But since I am the once active drug addict who became an adult with no life skills, and feeling like I was a decade behind my classmates... I believe I am qualified to recognize the ways my addiction will manifest in whatever behavior it can based on what is at my disposal. 

Does that mean all video game addicted kids will become crackheads? No, BUT if you anger one enough by taking away his toys, he may act out and if the wrong people are outside when he does, anything is possible. 

So why not home school our kids and keep them close to us at all times? That is how some choose to handle things, however are they gaining any life skills that way?

As a parent, I feel a moral obligation to teach my child good work ethic, hygiene, basic survival, basic financial, and basic interpersonal skills. This way at 18 if they wind up out in the real world, they can last a little while before realizing that they aren't so tough. That was my theory anyway, however there are always outside influences which can counteract your parental teachings, and this was my experience. 

I was busy doing drugs and destroying my credibility when my peers were building a foundation of life skills. I was barely able to support myself, when I became pregnant and forced to support another. I did give up drugs and alcohol the minute I suspected that this was the case. I did a really great job as a mother for the first seven or so years. Everyone who knew me would agree. In the beginning, I lived with my mother, who would continuously under mind me, she would wake the baby from a sound sleep to play with her when she got home from work at night. We would fight, and we did, constantly. So I conditioned myself to leave as soon as my mother arrived every night. The only place I could go was the bar... and even then I wouldn't drink hardly ever. I would have a soda and a late dinner and my "friends" would show up. I did this every night and weekends I was rarely home at all, because the toxicity between my mother and I was too high to subject a baby to.

Before I knew it, my mother was retired, I was working 2nd shift, and control of my child was lost. This became more clear when I moved out and enrolled my kid in school, the behavior issues began, the hygiene issues began, the eating and TV control issues began. The kid had way more stamina than I had patience. The school, the police, therapists, everyone was involved, because I had asked for help. The battle became harder to win when I took my weekends and used them as a way to escape. My mother took my kid and I got high. The length of the weekend got longer and longer, soon my mother would be making a 40 minute commute daily to my child's school and I didn't even live in the town anymore.

Roughly 3 years later, I made a conscious effort to rebuild my life, beginning with my addiction. I was homeless, jobless, penniless. I was not allowed in my mother's home, my father was not speaking to me, my true friends had washed their hands of me, and my new friends, well most of them were dead or in prison by now. I begged forgiveness of my child, and my mother, I went into the hospital for a while, sober living, therapy, 3 meetings a day. Finally the words of forgiveness were spoken. I thought I was making progress, however, these were only words, the words that I wanted to hear, no less. There was no meaning behind the words, no truth, no love, no merit, and no ACTION. The relationship with my mother became increasingly volatile, my 12 year old has discovered the internet, video games, and junk food. I tried to invoke my motherly duties and try to  steer the ship back on course, however my good intentions were met with resentment and resistance. These feelings simmered in a pressure cooker for another 6 years. While I was working on me, building a foundation of the skills I missed out on in my youth, my child was stewing with bitter anger toward me and there was no healing taking place at all. A high school drop out, spending all time time on the internet and playing video games with friends and never even bothered to get a driver's license, personal hygiene had become deplorable. My enabling mother continued to bankroll the whole operation.

When my child turned 18 the muscle flexing began, there was no way to avoid the verbal onslaught which I would receive. It's been months now and our relationship is at an all time low, however I have done far too much work on myself and my life to allow anyone to use or abuse me at any time. This includes my own child. She resents the way I try to help her assimilate her lack of enthusiasm toward growing up to the same underlying illness which feeds my addiction. The person is different, the symptom is different, however the disease is the same. The anger, the rage, the finger pointing and the blame, all comes from fear and uncertainty, right now it is all aimed at me.

There comes a time when we all realize the best outcome of a losing battle happens when the person with the greatest arsenal simply walks away. I feel emancipated and physically, I feel healthier, almost as if I have overcome a great illness. I feel no guilt, no shame, and I harbor no ill will. I live with a lighter heart, my family doesn't define me, and their lack of love will not condemn me. I am free today.

AA is a group of sick people working to get well, we go to learn how to live a quality life without alcohol (and/or drugs). With the help of those who came before us, we watch the others, we take what we need and we leave the rest, we try to live a day at a time without hurting one another, and we work on our individual shortcomings rather than pointing out the shortcomings of others, these are all things that do not come easy for the alcoholic, which is why we keep coming, and in time, things get better. We learn about things like patience and tolerance, we hear and see slogans on banners that say things like, "Live and Let Live" and they suddenly start to mean something to us, we are able to reflect back upon our own behavior in early recovery, and we start to see how sick we truly were, and years later, if we keep doing the next right thing, we can still see how sick we continue to be, or still are! We learn how to be grateful that this is a journey not a destination, nothing is meant to be done perfectly. I have days where I want to jump out of my own skin rather than to listen to someone dumping their problems on the group, however, I also have days where my problems feel like the most catastrophic issues of the world and when I try to talk about them everything comes out like a manic cyclone of drama and emotion... I don't want to be viewed as the over dramatic psycho, but maybe that is my fear of people actually getting to know who I am inside, childish, grandiose, and insensitive...

18 and Straight-Edge, STILL My Daughter

The more things clear up for me, the sharper the reality becomes. I am a product of two people who have always had their own internal, personal, or even psychological issues and both continually make the same poor choices, and refuse to acknowledge that they "own" even a fraction of accountability for the things that happen in their lives as a result.

That is OK, I have no control over them, or how they wish to live their lives, and I made one poor choice in leaving my daughter with one of these people when I was actively abusing drugs and couldn't take care of her myself. Sort of a lesser of two evils decision, there really wasn't a better one in hindsight. So for the past 6 years while I've been soul searching and working through 12 step programs to make a serious effort to improve my thinking on a daily basis, my child has been living in the very toxicity which I could not bear. I did make room for my daughter to come and live with me, repeatedly extended the offer over the past 4 years and finally stopped asking. She knows that she wouldn't be allowed to live the way she does where she is. (Up all night on the computer or playing video games, sleeping all day, no job, poor hygiene, no structure, no therapy, no school). I can't control how a teenager behaves, but I can lay down the boundaries of what I am willing to tolerate in my own home.

Needless to say because my child has not lived with me for several years and is now 18, she's not really interested in the whole mother daughter relationship. I have talked with her about drugs, about alcohol, about sex, about peer pressure, about anger and rage, she views everything as a lecture, and responds with "I know, Mom". She won't talk about anything but girl gossip and teen-aged drama, I don't  know what to give her on birthdays and holidays, because she is so over-indulged to begin with. She's over 300 pounds, her inevitable addiction has manifested itself in food, although she denies it. I don't know how to help her and suddenly it becomes clear that she doesn't WANT my help. I can't be the one who helps her, I get that, but I am the only one trying. In fact, I am the only person in my family working on improving my life, and that makes me the enemy.

My daughter, views me as an asshole for having not pulled my head out of my ass 12 years before so that I could have been the mother she imagines I would be. My mother thinks that insanity is a choice and blames my father's side of the family for the choices I made which "made [me] crazy". Both are living in the past. I made my amends, and continue to, I follow through by being available and reliable and keeping my promises, my temper improved, although there were many days when I had to cut my visit short, as my bullshit meter was in the red and I was about to blow a gasket.

Which brings us to yesterday. Thanksgiving Saturday with my mother and daughter, out to lunch and to a movie... We get to the restaurant and my anorexic mother says she doesn't want to eat, but orders a meal anyway so that my food addicted daughter can have two entrees. When I make a comment about it, my daughter decides she doesn't want anything at all. The tension begins, there is a disturbance in the force, and I am already the bad guy for having pointed out the obvious. Then we go to the movie, walking back to the car, it is COLD out, my daughter is dressed for early fall not 30 degree weather, starts complaining about the temperature. I point out that she's not dressed for the weather, she argues that her winter coat is no warmer... Naturally, I say, do you need a new winter coat? She says "No, I hate the cold weather" (she has never lived in or even visited ANY other climate). My response is, "OK then, get a job and move out to a warmer part of the world" She SNAPS before I know it she's gone, now my mother and I are sitting in the car while she has her tantrum somewhere outside in this cold which she cannot handle... 30 minutes go by and she finally gets in the car, I ask her why she took off, especially if she is "so cold" she flips out again, almost psychotically, screaming at the top of her lungs and making little to no sense.

The general barrage of fuck you's and I hate you's were followed up by, "You were never there" and "you don't even care" as it turns out, the trigger phrase that had set her in motion was the "get a job" part. "I've been trying so hard to get a job, Mom, you don't even know." A better parent may have allowed this to end right then, however my parents did me a dis-service by not calling me on my lies and bullshit. Earlier in the week and again in the day, I had asked my daughter if she had tried on ANY of the $200.00 worth of clothes that I had bought her 5 weeks prior, "not yet" was the response. Considering those clothes were "help find and secure a job" clothes... Considering every one of her "posts" on social media sites was something about video games or horror movies, and had been time stamped all throughout the hours of the night when most people sleep, and my mother had been complaining to me that she sleeps all damn day long when most people job hunt, I called her out. I threw the bullshit flag, without a notion of my how my actions would be received, and it was ugly.

Although emotionally hung over, I do not regret what I did. I placed the accountability back on my 18 year old, because my mother never did (on either of us). Of course blame has been passed through the family several times, not the same, and not something that I have time for. My daughter has adapted her skills to be in shape for the blame game and this has become very convenient for her. I made it very clear that I wouldn't allow her to lie to herself in my presence. We all make our choices, and we are not victims of the consequences when we make one that doesn't turn out the way we WANT it to. Since life is such a learning experience, I am grateful today for the consequences of my choices, some are a jagged pill to swallow, but all are a direct result of the way I choose to make decisions.

My mother and daughter may never change, what changed yesterday was my participation in their game. I do not have to go to every fight I am invited to. I've changed and I will continue to change, I am a work in progress and I do not do everything right. However, I crawl beneath no one, and owe no more apologies to this family. My amends are continued as I live and continue to grow and continue to learn from the errors of my ways, like any adult is meant to do. I hate the thought that my daughter is inevitably going to have to suffer through some of the most difficult times of her life, almost needlessly until she finds that she's lying to herself and that blame doesn't matter. Other people's behavior doesn't matter, as it is uncontrollable, that all she can control are her own actions and reactions to her choices and consequences. However what she finds along the way is part of her journey, not mine, and I refuse to be abused any longer.

Sheep... and Easy

I will save you, come on over here. Just listen to me, and do as I say. Don't listen to them, don't trust them, they are evil, trust me. I am good, I am going to help you, I will save you. They only want to hurt you, run to me, hurry, I will keep you safe, they are trying to destroy you, I will fight for you, I will put an end to your pain, I understand you, I will take care of you, I will love you, we are family now, look at me, I would never hurt you, I am going to make it alright, don't ask why, just do what I am telling you, and you will be happy, you will be healthy, you will be better off, this is the better life, the better choice, the better way, they best way.

Sound familiar? Of course it does, it's been going on since the beginning of time. These are words which are just as likely to come from a cult leader to a new prospect, as a Catholic steering a  child away from Protestants, or a Christian speaking ill of Muslims, Democrats vs, Republicans, Whites vs. Blacks, Ford vs, Chevy, Pepsi vs Coke, Colleges battling for high school aged athletic phenoms, or any other combination of opposing or competitive forces. What used to be viewed as a healthy or natural rivalry seems to have been replaced with blatant lies, rhetoric, and pure hate.

In fact the older I get, the more it appears a deliberate campaign against each social group, religious organization, sports team, political party, and the like... one needless and exhausting conflict after the other. It seems like coexisting, living in unity and harmony with one another are against somebody else's game plan. It's simple to see how we can be led down a rabbit hole.

Both psychology and history both state and illustrate very clearly, that if you can focus in on specific pain points, you can sell anything to any audience. Having that information, in conjunction with bearing witness to the exponential growth of fanatical tendencies in human beings, I can see how easy it would be to infiltrate a weak mind. There are so many to choose from. I will take you for instance, and like a wild animal stalks it's prey, I follow you around secretly, and study your behavior, your patterns, and your thought processes. 

As a good salesperson, I know how important it is that you identify with whatever pain point I create for you. I develop the perfect plan of attack, one that will turn you in the precise direction that I need you to be facing. I befriend you by making you and your best interests the main topic of conversation. I hone in on very specific truths that I discovered about you, that you don't know I already know about you, I slowly mesh these facts into the strike that rattles all the right nerves grab your attention, and blow your mind. 

For instance, let's just say for one example, that I discover that you are secretly afraid of black people. In my first approach, I make some small talk, and at the perfect moment, say something like, "Man, do you ever feel like these people just want to take over our world?" You agree, and I will go on to point out despicable cultural differences between you and the absolute worst example of a person of ANY race that I can use. This is not hard for anyone to do, these are statements which you would never bother to research or question. I might even tell you, "It's true, I swear, look it up!" This works because your fear of black people is fed by your imagination of the unknown my words just touch upon the little things that you have been subliminally taught with regard to hate. So your mind is already on overdrive and your feelings are being validated by me, your new pal. Even though everything I am telling you is complete and utter bullshit. I am sure that you are too lazy to look it up, and you definitely aren't going to run up to a black person and ask, as you're terrified that they will put a spell on you or some shit. 

So before you know it, I have you believing that all of the famous black rappers are Satanic Cult members and they speak to one another publicly, like terrorists, in secret Satanic language through television interviews and music videos. It doesn't matter how ludicrous the statement, if it goes AGAINST the person or people you feel threatened by, you feel as though you have an ally now. I tell you things like, "I was JUST LIKE YOU, and I learned about this, and now I can help you, too", That's the hook, you feel validated, you finally have a connection with someone who understood. I can say "Don't allow yourself to become a dumb sheep, following all the other sheep straight to the slaughter house". You feel empowered, U basically re-word the things you have already verified for me, I say things like "Did you ever feel scared or uncomfortable around these people when you were alone?" Of course you say yes, and now I have exposed your tender little underbelly. "It was because deep down inside you knew that they wanted to kill you. Don't you watch the news? These people are savages, all they do is kill and steal". You are now validated completely, and I go on to re-identify myself, "I was just like you, I felt the exact same way, and that's why we understand each other so much, we are alike". Don't don't listen to anyone else, their mixed messages will just confuse you, you are beginning to awaken to a reality that you have always felt was there, but it is a lot to absorb, it goes against everything you have ever been taught, this is the time for you to stay close, until you become strong enough to fight".

I've had the upper hand all along, I targeted you because you were depressed and lazy, abusive and angry, frustrated and vulnerable. It's not your fault, those are just the easiest ones to turn. It was because I struck the right nerve, you found trust in me. You soon begin to do everything I suggest. Simply because in your mind, it goes against the people who you fear most. You turn your attention completely away from the rest of the world, you hang on my every word, you are oblivious of the fact that you are being brainwashed. 

The fact is that you are becoming exactly what you believe I am helping to NOT be, which is a follower. You seem to have lost all rudimentary and all basic, fundamental understanding of who we are as people, losing touch with humanity, hating all who are different. You refuse to acknowledge the similarities between you and others who may choose to live in other walks of life, or worse, hating everyone who isn't publicly practicing your chosen belief system...

You believe you are standing up for what you are passionate about, but you are not, you are defending a pile of lies that you've been sold on. Can't you see what's happened? By trusting me that it was in your best interest to wake up and NOT be a sheep, a cult member, or a slave anymore, you've become MY sheep, MY cult member, MY slave! I am the pimp, and you are my bitch!

Taking Flight

As a continuous work in progress, I try to remain open to the things about me that I can change in hopes to achieve a more fulfilling and productive life. I find that birds of a feather often flock together. However birds that hang around in one place for too long pick up some hitchhikers along the way. 

I'm the bird who loves to fly, I fly with friends, I fly with strangers, I fly alone. I  am truly at my best when I am flying. I feel free; free of worry and anxiety, free of fear and free of sadness. I have no need to stress out about anything, all I need to do is take in the beautiful life I have been given. However this bird can't fly forever. I need to stop and refuel, I need to interact with other birds, I need to find birds who want to fly like I fly.

I find a spot to land, I introduce myself to new birds, I spend time with lifelong friends, I share tales of my journey, I listen to the stories of others, and I hear sad stories that touch my heart. Before I know what I am doing, I take the sad birds under my wing, I introduce them to other birds, I take them with me to some of my favorite vantage points. I share my zen-like appreciation for this whole wide world. 

The sad birds appear happier, they enjoy the experience, I think that for them it is life changing, and I must be helping them. I can see this because they continue to come back more and more to spend time with me.  It feels good to be wanted, needed, loved, accepted. I feel good knowing that I am the one they trust to help them with their sad lives. But each time they return they bring with them another chapter from their original, sad stories. I have become attached to my friends, they have spent some of the most beautiful moments of their lives with me. I have shared some of the most intimate feelings about this great life with them. I am wanting to fix their lives to eliminate the pain, I want to take them in, tape them up and nurse them back to health. Except, I'm no nurse! 

Their pain becomes my pain. I want them to experience the great days that we used to have when we first met, I want to see that profound change in their faces their smiles emerging from the deep frown lines in their faces. But that is gone. As they continue to return to their own lives and the sadness that rules them, I am frustrated and hurt, I feel as though I failed them, that I was helping them. The frustration transforms to anger, they chose their shitty life over this world of beauty, they deserve the misery, stupid fucks.

Like awakening from a deep sleep, I realize that days have gone by, weeks, months, I've been busy sulking about losing friends after wasting all that time trying to solve the problems of all of these wounded birds. I've become sluggish, emotionally weighed down. I don't even have the ambition to fly, and my friends are no better off than they day we met. They would rather stay there than move on beyond the sadness. I almost feel helpless, I've begun telling my sad story. Nobody seems to want to hear it. I feel so alone, and I have a small fire burning inside of my head, in the right light, you can see it in my eyes. 

There is no need for all this sadness, I pull myself up, I see that I've wasted all of this time and missed out on my life, and all of the great things in it that I enjoy, flying high and soaring above the stressors of life looking down upon them with a new perspective. I'm empowering myself again, I'm giving myself the opportunity to fly, and I am leaving all of the sad birds behind. I've let go of the resentment that I harbored toward them, they have seen a light at the end of their darkness, I have left the door open for them, should they choose to enter, but I am not going to go back and carry them through. When they are ready to end their sadness, they will take flight, until then, I cannot waste anymore of my life trying to bring anyone to a better life. I have hope for all of them, I wish to see them all some other day, on the other side. If I could do it, anyone can.

Laundry Blog : 11/11/2012

Laundry Blog: 11/11/2012


I walked into the laundromat today to find an elderly man with both laundry attendants, during shift change, they were showing him how to connect to the WiFi. Success, and within seconds, he is absorbed in whatever online activities he fancies. The laptop goes aside, and the man pops up, rushing to his laundry from washer to dryer, he makes a little small talk with a lady customer while tossing his clothes in, and scoots right back to the laptop for some more cyber connectivity. 
We are all hooked, from the very young, to the very old, the internet has a stronger hold on us than work, school, religion, family responsibilities, household chores. We are becoming socially awkward, cyber-enthralled, gadget-centric, app-for-everything minded. Our world is beginning to appear more and more a virtual reality. Perhaps more like the Matrix than we are willing to admit. I am as addicted to technology as to anything else I have chased. In recovery, I learned that I have a disease centered in my mind which makes me more prone to self-seeking behavior, or that which would provide me with instant gratification. 

I find that need for gratification far more widespread than for just someone having had struggled with addiction. As we humans evolve, so does our insatiable appetite for a quick fix. Gadgets like computers, smartphones, iPods, Netbooks, tablets, video games, and all the like were not designed to be put down. It's the nature of this beast, created by man, the addiction factor is deliberate by design. They were not designed to deliver delayed gratification, they were designed to bait us into wanting more. "More" is the current symptom of our society. 

In my own haste to get my laundry into the dryer and back to this blog, I barely noticed in a basket, beneath the dryer I was gunning for, a pile of about 6 credit cards. The man folding his clothes next to me said that they were not his, Walter was the name on the cards, so I approached the elderly chap, he did look like a Walter, after all!  My instincts were correct, his credit cards fell out of his chest pocket and into the laundry basket when he was loading it into the lower dryer. Of course, the poor man was having trouble with his computer too, so I helped him log into his hotmail account. 

When I leaned over, I noticed a patch on his vest, and a very distinct ring on his finger. I was surprised to learn that this rather frail, kindly, old man was a biker (Harley Davidson owner), and also a Free Mason. We had a nice friendly chat about life and living, I felt a sense of peace and ease in his presence. Walter was very thankful for my help. I don't know if he actually understood why I thanked him for being a part of my my day. Without his presence, the words may not have flowed, and the whole experience may not have sunk in. 
With regard to the calm that enveloped me when speaking with him, I am confident that someday I will find out that this experience proves to be a necessary detail of my journey. 
I am exactly where I am supposed to be today. 

Unlucky in Love or Crazy Bitch?

I wear misery like a jacket these days, it is not a good look on me. I am emotionally exhausted, taking it out on people who can think nothing of me besides the fact that I am a fucking lunatic. This dull mood wears me down and I can feel it eating away at my soul. 

Do I let go? Fuck no, the depression is familiar, it's my security blanket, and the "chase" is what I know. I'd say I'm good at it, but that's bullshit. Chasing what? A fairy tale? I'm infatuated with something I never even believed in. I'm hooked on a feeling (hahaha I never thought I would hear myself use that phrase). 

My mind seems to enjoy manufacturing a romantic story line to convince me that all of this shit is real. I must be nuts. I can see the ways that I sabotage my life. Even just by saying this love thing doesn't exist, while grasping desperately onto an unknowing warrior, and slapping a label on "us" so that I can appear to be "normal". 

When my hostage turns out to be as emotionally unavailable as I truly am, the drama of the situation rises up and my poor little heart is broken again, and again, what do you know... Oh, but now I can say I was right, and my theory appears to be true, there's no such thing as love. At the same time that I cling to the idea of Prince Charming riding in on his white horse and carry me off to happily ever after, I know in my mind, that I'm fucked in the head and that what I envision DOES NOT FUCKING EXIST. My twisted mind will make a prince out of anyone, and like a moth to a flame, I'm on the chase again. Crazy Bitch.

I Know You're Out There!

We all have good days and we all have bad days, we all do things that we wish we could do differently and we all have things we wish we could take back altogether. We all have personality quirks, and we all struggle with a certain level of insecurity. These things are a fact of life for any human being. 

Perhaps there is an abundance of things I would like to change about myself starting today. How to I know what things take priority? I feel like I need to understand things in order to put changes in place. I need to know a process before I can find more efficient ones, and the only way to know a process is to be a part of it. So if you hired me to help improve efficiency on your manufacturing floor, I would not be doing you any service to just tell you to speed up the line, if in fact there is are issues throughout the process. I am always looking for root causes...

As far as my shortcomings are concerned, there are some fundamental elements in my process which may have shaken loose and in some cases fallen completely out of the track. I need to get a handle on my temper, more so the fueled-by-stupidity tantrums that erupt, which in the most recent of days, spins off to pilot my already foul mouth and sharp tongue at an alarming real-time, instant. The cherry on top of this home-spun delight is my general disdain for authority. It is beginning to come clear now, that this is a caustic combination of traits when combined in a non-controlled environment. It appears that such an unstable mixture may become explosive in the least noticeable pressure change in ANY environment. So when one is subjected to corporate America, there is bound to be an explosion of mushroom cloud proportions.

As I understand it, stupidity and a lack of common sense is the root of my personality flaw. I can't eradicate all of the stupid people, I can't inject anyone with common sense. So what now? Kill myself?

No, that's too simple, and I can't possibly be the only one. In fact I know that I am not. Better yet, the only time in my existence that I feel as if I'm not alone, is when talking to one of these people, they are the only ones who GET ME, and they get me because they THINK like me. Most of the time, I feel like an alien in a strange world. I have become friendly with others like me. There are more of us out there, and the faster we can create unity, the better off we will all be... You don't have to be an addict, an alcoholic, a degenerate gambler, you simply have to identify with something that you've read in any one of my neurotic posts. 

The only requirement is to be a free thinking, open minded human being. You won't have to drink the Kool-Aid or wear a tin foil hat, your thoughts are welcome, come along for the wild roller coaster ride... 

I am NOT OK

I am not strong, so don't lean on me.

I am not smart, you don't want to hear what I think.

I am not sane, stay away! Why are you drawn to me?

Keeping up appearances is about the worst habit I could have picked up along the way. I have perfected the art of creating and presenting a false persona, one far different from what I am or how I feel under my skin. My insides do NOT match my outsides. Like an actor on a stage, I portray a likable and friendly, fun-loving, smart, strong, and well rounded individual. Internally I am antisocial, sad, angry, I spend a great deal of time in the clutches of an agonizing depression. It is like a bad neighborhood that you wouldn't want to be in alone. My gut tells me that these feelings have roots in living this lie which may not be unlike living a double life. A life and a lie which I don't believe I can continue to carry on. 

That is why I started this blog, and it is virtually unknown to people who think they really KNOW me. I want my fresh start on an empty canvas, a clean slate so to speak. I want to be me, without walls, with no aggressive defenses, and no bullshit. I want to make true friends based on who I am inside and that I am working to help myself heal from there, rather than continuously trying to put on a show. Such honesty would be sure to render me powerless over the cruel and calculated predator known as the human animal.

Trust does not come easy, as I feel as though I am vulnerable to exploitation if I am to allow an open view into who I really am. This may be why I am prone to abuse. I generally find the good in all people and become weakened as I listen to their sad, sorry, stories, I make convenient and well packaged excuses for everybody's shit-bag behavior. I put myself in danger by doing so and I continue to allow it and defend it and excuse it over and over and over until it hits a nerve. Then, being the extremist that I am, I turn to drop the motherfucker in the most vicious and dramatic reactionary style that any retaliatory attack could be. Unacceptable behavior needs to be nixed immediately, not tolerated until it reaches a breaking point.

Knowing this, one may presume, is instrumental in getting a handle on it... If only I knew how to view things for what they are as they are happening. I  sometimes feel that I am at an extreme just before I hit a wall and dramatically, I turn radically into the opposite extreme. So when dealing with people and the way I cling to the good and bypass the bad... In that exact moment of discovery, after extracting all possible inner goodness real or imaginary, the only alternative that my mind can see happens in the immediate and turns to complete suspicion and skepticism. Sniff out the conspiracy and go to any lengths to prove that there is one in play. 

I go through phases where I will pass this negative judgment upon any and all who I encounter. Therefor the slightest thing set's my neurosis of intolerance in motion. (As a post-conscious observation... especially relevant in the event of my own misunderstanding). If it defies logic, or neglects to make practical sense in my thought process, my tendency is to adamantly reject it, aborting all other protocols, casting it out as alien, and publicly voicing my displeasure. My sharp wit morphs to a razor tongue which aids in the personal dissection of  character. I'm on auto-pilot, spinning beyond my own control, while systematically, my cyclonic behavior constructs the soapbox that I stand upon while I emotionally execute my newly manufactured enemy.

What has seeded such extremes of passive and aggressive anger inside of me? Why do I continue to allow myself to become enraged when the slightest issue arises? Human beings aren't perfect, we ALL make mistakes, we ALL have issues around admitting we are making them, don't we? Why do I feel in the deepest point of my heart, that I have a purpose on this earth? When will it be revealed? Which way will I turn? Who am I supposed to help? I can't understand this fire and ice, bi-polar, good vs. evil, human oxymoron, love me or fucking kill me... chemical conundrum which drives me and tears me apart from the inside! 

Sometimes I think I can completely  accept all of this. In actuality, it is but a momentary thought that allows me to believe any of this it is within the limits of  my own comprehension. I am told to let it be as it is, but I cannot. At my core I'm a fixer, a problem solver, a puzzle finisher, and I won't stop until I've connected the dots. At this moment, I am in fear I may be losing my grip, I am shredded inside, the pain, it burns deep today, and I fear that I may be falling apart completely.

If I love you will you love me back?

I have spent my life trying to make the people in it happy. When I was 6 years old, I came home from school to find my father sobbing on his bed, I asked him what was the matter... He told me that he wanted to blow his fucking brains out. A co-dependent, caretaker was born. A year later I would find the rejection and disappointment that comes with seeking the approval of others, just too much to bear, and I made my first attempt at suicide. My MOTHER's response: "We don't talk about these things... Don't you dare bring shame to my family... What will people think? I won't be able to show my face in church if you don't start acting right... What's wrong with you? People are going to think you're a crazy person". 

Sometime around 9 years old I discovered the art of cutting. Come to think of it, this may ave started with picking Mosquito bites, I remember those being problematic when I was young. I cut my thighs, my arms, my stomach, my hands, even my face I carved words into my arms and the words "fat bitch" into my belly, backwards so that when I looked in the mirror I could read it. In the beginning, it was simply because physical pain felt better than emotional pain. Toward the end, I was doing it because I hated myself and I "deserved" the pain. Around 11 or 12 I had sex, with a boy my age, it didn't do anything for me, it would be years before that was done properly and became an unhealthy addiction of it's own. Home made and underground tattoos took the place of cutting temporarily, while Cocaine on the other hand, provided me with EXACTLY the relief I was seeking. One small line and within an instant I saw pure anarchy, and felt my body release the pressure of fear, doubt, shame, insecurity, and rage as fast as an untied balloon being let go. I loved it, I sensed mayhem, I sensed evil, I sensed depravity, and I was overcome by the need to chase it all. Side effects of my regular use of stimulants were: increased focus, weight loss, decreased appetite, loss of moral or spiritual values, increased interest in crime, mood swings, increased irritability, emotional instability, propensity for violence, increased rage, decreased artistic creativity, developed a mastery in the skill of manipulation and the art of lying. Now my parents would not trust me, they would not speak to me, they would not want me to be a part of their lives at all. I felt rejected by my own family, misunderstood, and cast out. 

All of my choices were unhealthy, and stemmed from the original Daddy issues... I needed to prove myself to men, I needed approval, I needed validation. I did EVERYTHING I could to feel appreciated, loved, complimented. I believed all I had to do was love. If I loved my Dad, he wouldn't blow his brains out. I've been in ALL of my former relationships thinking, "if I just love him right he won't drink so much" or "if I can prove how much I love him, he won't be so angry" or "if I love him the way he needs to be loved, he won't hit me" or "if I love him enough, he'll never cheat on me"... Yet my track record will show, I've been cheated on, beaten on, screamed at, and I've carried the drunk into the house at night. So for the sake of my own mental and or emotional health, I needed to change my behavior around men.

I'm not a victim of anyone else's behavior. My own poor choices have been the catalyst behind the pain, chaos, and drama in my life. I've been a willing participant in my sordid past with relationships. hat is the pattern I need to break for myself. It appears that I am attracted to the wounded ones... never the actual needy ones, but the scared and defensive, and often dangerous ones. Even today, while working on real recovery, I am able to see that I STILL make these foolish choices. I am now realizing that my own father will never give me an ounce of what I thought I needed from him. I recently stopped chasing him for approval, I stopped seeking validation. I turned and faced him, at almost 40 yrs old, and I demanded his respect. He froze, he laughed, he agreed and I was given validation, I felt empowered and emancipated at the same time. 

Perhaps few people identify with this as described. Far fewer, I bet can capture the elation of emotional growth.

At the Intersection of Perspective & Perception: Things Aren't Always Clear

What we see in our own eyes... 

We have little or no reason to doubt. There is no thought of placing question on the validity or our view. Barring of course, some neuro-scientific issue with regard to hallucinations.
We have all seen something or at the very least, thought that we did, it may have been off in the distance. We did not question it, as it appeared to fit the rest of the scene or simply make sense in the moment. Yet as we moved in closer our sights adjusted and we came to realize that it wasn't what we had thought it was at all. 

Do you ever wonder if these things are more than bad eyesight? Perhaps a warped insight? Is your twisted brain feeding your mind's eye? Is it possible for the objects themselves to morph as we get closer or farther away to or from them?

If a tree falls in the woods and nobody is around to hear it does it make a sound? Of course it does, if it makes a sound in front of me it will make a sound when I am not there. How ridiculous, or even arrogant a thought is it that a human needs to be around to witness an event in order to acknowledge that it ever happened? Yet that is our arrogant nature. We are so simple at times we don't consider any species but our own when we scratch our heads with such absurd wonder.

Perspective is our view, the actual angle or vantage point that we see things from. Perception is how our mind translates that view to us. Think about this concept and sight specific instances when you were seeing a far different picture than others or that the final outcome. Now how extreme was the case? For me, the differences between my perception and reality have been radically disconnected, dangerous at times, perhaps even deadly. I realized my mind was trying to kill me when I was about seven years old. I didn't know how to harness it, I didn't know how to protect myself from it. I've spent a lifetime learning, and today I've taught myself how to live with it. I've addressed the depths of my innermost wildly vivid, yet unorthodox imagination, I've pretty much come to embrace it. I am convinced that this is my mind, someday it may be what defines me, nonetheless, it will remain with me for the long haul.

Discovering that my perspective differs greatly from my perception, I have also found that I actually have a level of control within the situation. Not in changing it, but in changing how I see it. The more I know, the more likely I will make an informed decision in what I might do. So changing my stance or vantage point, is like adding perspectives. Looking at things more openly, widening my lens helps me to obtain a much more open perception. For me, a variety of angles are needed prior to coming up with a definitive solution to potential obstacles or issues which may present themselves along the way for me. In my experience, to effectively plan something can be very difficult. I am overwhelmed with the infinite combinations of variables. There is uncertainty and clarity needed, especially when there is someone else reliant upon my direction. I need to step back, climb higher, familiarize myself with the terrain, and remain agile in my mind and on my feet when these variables do arise to potentially push me off course. When any one of my five senses are incorporated with the perspectives that I allow, processing becomes easier. I feel more confident in my responses, reactions, and intuitively knowing my next steps. 

There were days when my decisions were made with reckless abandon. I placed no thought in long term effects or damage. Things were chaotic, but since I never faced anything, that was just fine with me. Throwing caution to the wind creates great anxiety to me today. I feel that learning how to recognize the difference between my perspective and perception, has helped me to explain why things are not always as they seem for me. I also believe that if I have something specific on my mind, whether it be consciously or subconsciously, the image created for my perception can often be a result of just that. I have a tendency to believe the lies that I tell myself. Therefor it is very important to check myself, my motivation, and my state of mind before believing what I think that I see. 

Should I someday decide to "let go" so that I may simply "accept" that life just "is what it is" and ignore my need to pursue other viewpoints, I wonder and worry about how dangerous things might actually become for me. I have this fear that if I submit I will die. I'm terrified of what the challenges my mind is presenting me. Perhaps one day I look out and believe that I see a long road ahead when in reality it's the edge of a high cliff that I am about to drive off of? 

An example of how my mind is playing tricks on me is illustrated here while I was walking to an important appointment at a local place that I'd never been to. I could see it up ahead, only about 1000 feet away. Although I could barely make out the dog sitting on the front porch, I was comforted in knowing they had a dog at this place. My vantage point was too far to see clearly enough to be able to recognize what breed the dog might be. As I got closer to it, I noticed it's behavior, it was not moving, the image still rather fuzzy. I suddenly felt somewhat puzzled and even a bit frightened. Immediately my thought process and inner dialogue goes to, "Why isn't this dog moving? Surely he can see me coming at this point, is he blind? But wait he would be able to hear me, unless he is deaf too. Wow, this old deaf blind dog sure sits pretty rigid at his age and deteriorated condition. Oh that's stupid, this dog is not deaf, blind, or old, he's studying my movements." 

I was increasingly frightened at this point because I was approaching a dog that wasn't barking or moving or wagging it's tail. "A dog that isn't moving must be ready to attack. This dog was getting ready to maul me". 

I wanted to whistle or call out to it, but was afraid that it would come running at me. As I continued to get closer, my other senses kicked in, I know what it's like to live with dogs, I did not smell dog shit, or notice anything in the area that reminded me of having dogs in the past. The lawn wasn't patchy or stained. I listened carefully, and thought to myself, "This dog is so still, it's not even growling". I stepped to the right about 8 or 10 feet and continued to watch the dog, his head did not turn I squinted and adjusted my glasses, but I was still too far to identify what this beast on the porch was up to. When it registered to my logical mind that which I had already identified... This dog did not follow me with it's head when I stepped off to the right. It was not even staring at me, I began to feel safer yet more confused, questioning whether I was even looking at a dog. Nothing was making sense anymore.

I brought myself forward, closer to the porch, the dog suddenly disappeared from my thoughts. Understanding my own mind, not unlike the Matrix... I realized that once my perception made no sense, my brain sent emergency calls to my other senses ordering a full investigation of the matter. Suddenly mind went blank. It was if my signals had gotten jammed and my mental website had crashed. Following a quick mental reboot, my brain had re-engaged as it was wired to. It was now impossible for my mind to be able to manufacture an image of a dog. I am close enough now, everything comes into focus at once, within an instant I could see clearly that it was not a dog at all I had been fixated on, but a potted plant. 

A sense of horror came over me, "What the hell is wrong with me? How could I believe that I see something so clearly yet so absolutely and radically far from reality?" Then the thought came to mind, "I love dogs, perhaps I was feeling apprehensive about going to this place upon arrival, and my mind's eye projected an image of a dog to lure me closer...? Regardless, of the why, I made it closer to the porch." I needed to rest and analyze the thousand foot journey. "Was it the angle I approached the situation from? Was it my eyesight? Could it just be the distance that I was originally viewing the plant from? Or had there actually been a dog on the front porch when I got there, that turned itself into a potted plant right before my eyes?" The truth is it doesn't matter at all. My brain and my mind joined forces and worked together when I needed it most. There is no reason for me not to trust my own mind, everything works properly, it's the thinking that is going to take me down!

Things in my mind no longer seem to make sense. Maybe we really ARE living in a virtual reality, maybe there is a Matrix, maybe I see only what my mind and my programming allow, and occasionally some free range thoughts creep in, perhaps they are fragments and remnants of that which was conducive to the survival of the previous inhabitants of this vessel? Could it be true? Am I exactly where I am supposed to be right here, right now, present in this very moment, right down to this very breath?

All it Takes is ONE Difference of Opinion

And I ponder....

How many people have to believe something for it to be considered, "public opinion"?

Is this based on TV News and propaganda, on people who believe without question, those who follow the herd...?

When the world was believed to be flat, WHO'S belief was that? Did "leaders" use that as a scare tactic to control the masses, and keep people under their power, or had we not evolved enough to wonder or dream or have the desire to look beyond the life that we were living, or the land mass that we were living on?

In a world of infinite choices, options, luxuries, colors, and flavors, and styles, and MORE... I can see that it all had to start with a non-conforming idea...
Yet we consider the visionary to be insane...

The mere definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different result...

STILL throughout civilization we shun those who see things differently until we jump on and ride the coattails of their success.

Technology's Curse

My own nagging suspicions and fears of myself were confirmed when reflecting back upon a brief conversation with a dating prospect who voiced an opinion regarding email, online chat, and text messaging. He spoke of how technology seemed to promote social awkwardness. There have actually been studies to substantiate this, I do agree as I know that it is true. In a number of people, just not me. Knowing what I do about people (other than myself of course) it's not at all something I would want to argue. My ego only allows me to half listen to any general statement of opinion made, and if it doesn't immediately strike a chord within me, I won't remember it for long, unless of course, I am using it to criticize someone else. This is a clear example of my inability to see the apple on my own head. When it finally registered, however long afterward, I realize that not only am I one likely to fall subject to social awkwardness and anxiety. I realize that I am perhaps the ideal specimen for such a clinical presentation.

          I ask myself regularly and out loud, "What the hell am I doing?" While returning to the harsh reality of my insanity, again I chase this rapacious, unforgiving and rapidly spiraling, perpetual, ultra-manic, mind-fuck... time and time again. It seemed to intensify greatly, and would appear to have changed direction rather unexpectedly at some point in the last few months. (Perhaps "seasonal affective disorder", or simply the painful reminder of loneliness that springtime brings about when all of the animals are mating, and the birds are singing, and the people are wearing significantly less clothing).

          I am the same woman used to meet new guys and either make friends with them or bed them down within a matter of minutes. Sex is not a hard thing to achieve, regardless of body type, age, etc. It's about confidence, and I never lacked in that area. I still have several men who call or who I can call at any time, however when I think of what I really want, I become disgusted with men, well not all men. It's the "regulars" that bore me, I want someone new, and I search the internet, and I chat and I email and I text and before I know it, I am overcome with insecurity and fear, doubt, distrust, anxiety. I am in isolation, all alone, depressed, suicidal, self loathing, I am suddenly feeling physically and emotionally paralyzed, simply put, I am stuck in my own way. 

Those who know me can confirm that I was NEVER as outwardly insecure or confused about any part of life until recently. It's as if I have suffered a head injury, or burned my brain cells. I need to put down the cyber crack and get back to being the emotionally shallow, yet happy, intelligent, secure, confident, REAL person that I used to be. Another friend, one who I may actually be "in love" with and just not know, stated so eloquently, "Is it possible that you always were insecure and fearful, but you covered it up with drugs and alcohol and bad behavior for so long that you really can't (or don't want to) remember who you are? Maybe now your sober mind and body are not allowing you to continue with the exhausting facade you put on that nearly killed you." OUCH, that's a true friend, calling me on my shit, stomping out my dramatic woe is me damsel in distress act, and forcing me to look inward for the truth.

        I do have a valid need and a rather intense thirst for connection with people who stimulate my mind like this. I am intolerant of mediocrity, which stems from my own underachievement, and I have no pity for fools, as I have been acting like one for so long, myself. As my own silent criticism mirrors back to me, my vision becomes clearer into my own behavior and tendencies.

         I lie to myself and say that my preference is NOT a quest for the coveted holy grail called love, knowing that I have no idea how to be a part of a healthy relationship. My disease tells me I am not worthy at this time, so I should perish the concept and simply chase my more carnal desires, go for satisfying the insatiable, self seeking, instant gratification, through the more primitive, physical, immediate fix. Just like drugs, my mind romanticizes the lies that I tell myself, like the one that says, "I just want amazing, ongoing sex, I just wanna fuck. I wanna fuck one person who I know is cool, I want to trust that person enough to explore my darkest sexual boundaries and push me beyond them. Generally, I trust no one, not even family has earned my trust. This kinda trust doesn't have to be deep, I just need to know when I say stop, he'll stop, and when I say no, he won't force me. Other than that, this is where I am at. I don't want a label, I don't want a status, I want to explore with my hands, my tongue, my nose, all of my senses and my entire body, and just see what the hell happens." How is this not a relationship, how does this not turn into mixed feelings of confusion, lust, love, and more fear of rejection?

            This veracity is often as terrifying to a man as opening up my emotional floodgates and pouring out my shortcomings. Fuck all my whiny insecurities! Look at me, again, I am in isolation. I have been hiding behind this keyboard and screen writing incessantly about me, my feelings, my fears, my everything, while holding back from the more impulsive acts that fuel my very being. I am becoming terrified to leave my own home. I am scared to death of new people, relationships, love, and commitment. I enjoy sex and friendship, but it fucks with my mind, or it becomes a drug that I use to medicate my mood, combine that realization with the ability to be anyone I want to be online and paint any picture I choose, real or fake... DANGER, I'm likely to become the same junky I was, without a needle. I need to get back out there and be human again, I need to be seen, and feel real, and surround myself with life, all walks and aspects of life, once again, I need to be a part of the world again.

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˙uıɐbɐ pןɹoʍ ǝɥʇ ɟo ʇɹɐd ɐ ǝq oʇ pǝǝu ı 'uıɐbɐ ǝɔuo 'ǝɟıן ɟo sʇɔǝdsɐ puɐ sʞןɐʍ ןןɐ 'ǝɟıן ɥʇıʍ ɟןǝsʎɯ punoɹɹns puɐ 'ןɐǝɹ ןǝǝɟ puɐ 'uǝǝs ǝq oʇ pǝǝu ı 'uıɐbɐ uɐɯnɥ ǝq puɐ ǝɹǝɥʇ ʇno ʞɔɐq ʇǝb oʇ pǝǝu ı ˙ǝןpǝǝu ɐ ʇnoɥʇıʍ 'sɐʍ ı ʎʞunظ ǝɯɐs ǝɥʇ ǝɯoɔǝq oʇ ʎןǝʞıן ɯ,ı 'ɹǝbuɐp ˙˙˙ǝʞɐɟ ɹo ןɐǝɹ 'ǝsooɥɔ ı ǝɹnʇɔıd ʎuɐ ʇuıɐd puɐ ǝuıןuo ǝq oʇ ʇuɐʍ ı ǝuoʎuɐ ǝq oʇ ʎʇıןıqɐ ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ uoıʇɐzıןɐǝɹ ʇɐɥʇ ǝuıqɯoɔ 'pooɯ ʎɯ ǝʇɐɔıpǝɯ oʇ ǝsn ı ʇɐɥʇ bnɹp ɐ sǝɯoɔǝq ʇı ɹo 'puıɯ ʎɯ ɥʇıʍ sʞɔnɟ ʇı ʇnq 'dıɥspuǝıɹɟ puɐ xǝs ʎoظuǝ ı ˙ʇuǝɯʇıɯɯoɔ puɐ 'ǝʌoן 'sdıɥsuoıʇɐןǝɹ 'ǝןdoǝd ʍǝu ɟo ɥʇɐǝp oʇ pǝɹɐɔs ɯɐ ı ˙ǝɯoɥ uʍo ʎɯ ǝʌɐǝן oʇ pǝıɟıɹɹǝʇ buıɯoɔǝq ɯɐ ı ˙buıǝq ʎɹǝʌ ʎɯ ןǝnɟ ʇɐɥʇ sʇɔɐ ǝʌısןndɯı ǝɹoɯ ǝɥʇ ɯoɹɟ ʞɔɐq buıpןoɥ ǝןıɥʍ 'buıɥʇʎɹǝʌǝ ʎɯ 'sɹɐǝɟ ʎɯ 'sbuıןǝǝɟ ʎɯ 'ǝɯ ʇnoqɐ ʎןʇuɐssǝɔuı buıʇıɹʍ uǝǝɹɔs puɐ pɹɐoqʎǝʞ sıɥʇ puıɥǝq buıpıɥ uǝǝq ǝʌɐɥ ı ˙uoıʇɐןosı uı ɯɐ ı 'uıɐbɐ 'ǝɯ ʇɐ ʞooן ¡sǝıʇıɹnɔǝsuı ʎuıɥʍ ʎɯ ןןɐ ʞɔnɟ ˙sbuıɯoɔʇɹoɥs ʎɯ ʇno buıɹnod puɐ sǝʇɐbpooןɟ ןɐuoıʇoɯǝ ʎɯ dn buıuǝdo sɐ uɐɯ ɐ oʇ buıʎɟıɹɹǝʇ sɐ uǝʇɟo sı ʎʇıɔɐɹǝʌ sıɥʇ          
¿uoıʇɔǝظǝɹ ɟo ɹɐǝɟ ǝɹoɯ puɐ 'ǝʌoן 'ʇsnן 'uoısnɟuoɔ ɟo sbuıןǝǝɟ pǝxıɯ oʇuı uɹnʇ ʇou sıɥʇ sǝop ʍoɥ 'dıɥsuoıʇɐןǝɹ ɐ ʇou sıɥʇ sı ʍoɥ "˙suǝddɐɥ ןןǝɥ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʍ ǝǝs ʇsnظ puɐ 'ʎpoq ǝɹıʇuǝ ʎɯ puɐ sǝsuǝs ʎɯ ɟo ןןɐ 'ǝsou ʎɯ 'ǝnbuoʇ ʎɯ 'spuɐɥ ʎɯ ɥʇıʍ ǝɹoןdxǝ oʇ ʇuɐʍ ı 'snʇɐʇs ɐ ʇuɐʍ ʇ,uop ı 'ןǝqɐן ɐ ʇuɐʍ ʇ,uop ı ˙ʇɐ ɯɐ ı ǝɹǝɥʍ sı sıɥʇ 'ʇɐɥʇ uɐɥʇ ɹǝɥʇo ˙ǝɯ ǝɔɹoɟ ʇ,uoʍ ǝɥ 'ou ʎɐs ı uǝɥʍ puɐ 'doʇs ןן,ǝɥ 'doʇs ʎɐs ı uǝɥʍ ʍouʞ oʇ pǝǝu ʇsnظ ı 'dǝǝp ǝq oʇ ǝʌɐɥ ʇ,usǝop ʇsnɹʇ ɐpuıʞ sıɥʇ ˙ʇsnɹʇ ʎɯ pǝuɹɐǝ sɐɥ ʎןıɯɐɟ uǝʌǝ ʇou 'ǝuo ou ʇsnɹʇ ı 'ʎןןɐɹǝuǝb ˙ɯǝɥʇ puoʎǝq ǝɯ ɥsnd puɐ sǝıɹɐpunoq ןɐnxǝs ʇsǝʞɹɐp ʎɯ ǝɹoןdxǝ oʇ ɥbnouǝ uosɹǝd ʇɐɥʇ ʇsnɹʇ oʇ ʇuɐʍ ı 'ןooɔ sı ʍouʞ ı oɥʍ uosɹǝd ǝuo ʞɔnɟ ɐuuɐʍ ı ˙ʞɔnɟ ɐuuɐʍ ʇsnظ ı 'xǝs buıobuo 'buızɐɯɐ ʇuɐʍ ʇsnظ ı" 'sʎɐs ʇɐɥʇ ǝuo ǝɥʇ ǝʞıן 'ɟןǝsʎɯ ןןǝʇ ı ʇɐɥʇ sǝıן ǝɥʇ sǝzıɔıʇuɐɯoɹ puıɯ ʎɯ 'sbnɹp ǝʞıן ʇsnظ ˙xıɟ ǝʇɐıpǝɯɯı 'ןɐɔısʎɥd 'ǝʌıʇıɯıɹd ǝɹoɯ ǝɥʇ ɥbnoɹɥʇ 'uoıʇɐɔıɟıʇɐɹb ʇuɐʇsuı 'buıʞǝǝs ɟןǝs 'ǝןqɐıʇɐsuı ǝɥʇ buıʎɟsıʇɐs ɹoɟ ob 'sǝɹısǝp ןɐuɹɐɔ ǝɹoɯ ʎɯ ǝsɐɥɔ ʎןdɯıs puɐ ʇdǝɔuoɔ ǝɥʇ ɥsıɹǝd pןnoɥs ı os 'ǝɯıʇ sıɥʇ ʇɐ ʎɥʇɹoʍ ʇou ɯɐ ı ǝɯ sןןǝʇ ǝsɐǝsıp ʎɯ ˙dıɥsuoıʇɐןǝɹ ʎɥʇןɐǝɥ ɐ ɟo ʇɹɐd ɐ ǝq oʇ ʍoɥ ɐǝpı ou ǝʌɐɥ ı ʇɐɥʇ buıʍouʞ 'ǝʌoן pǝןןɐɔ ןıɐɹb ʎןoɥ pǝʇǝʌoɔ ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ ʇsǝnb ɐ ʇou sı ǝɔuǝɹǝɟǝɹd ʎɯ ʇɐɥʇ ʎɐs puɐ ɟןǝsʎɯ oʇ ǝıן ı        
˙sǝıɔuǝpuǝʇ puɐ ɹoıʌɐɥǝq uʍo ʎɯ oʇuı ɹǝɹɐǝןɔ sǝɯoɔǝq uoısıʌ ʎɯ 'ǝɯ oʇ ʞɔɐq sɹoɹɹıɯ ɯsıɔıʇıɹɔ ʇuǝןıs uʍo ʎɯ sɐ ˙ɟןǝsʎɯ 'buoן os ɹoɟ ǝuo ǝʞıן buıʇɔɐ uǝǝq ǝʌɐɥ ı sɐ 'sןooɟ ɹoɟ ʎʇıd ou ǝʌɐɥ ı puɐ 'ʇuǝɯǝʌǝıɥɔɐɹǝpun uʍo ʎɯ ɯoɹɟ sɯǝʇs ɥɔıɥʍ 'ʎʇıɹɔoıpǝɯ ɟo ʇuɐɹǝןoʇuı ɯɐ ı ˙sıɥʇ ǝʞıן puıɯ ʎɯ ǝʇɐןnɯıʇs oɥʍ ǝןdoǝd ɥʇıʍ uoıʇɔǝuuoɔ ɹoɟ ʇsɹıɥʇ ǝsuǝʇuı ɹǝɥʇɐɹ ɐ puɐ pǝǝu pıןɐʌ ɐ ǝʌɐɥ op ı      
˙ɥʇnɹʇ ǝɥʇ ɹoɟ pɹɐʍuı ʞooן oʇ ǝɯ buıɔɹoɟ puɐ 'ʇɔɐ ssǝɹʇsıp uı ןǝsɯɐp ǝɯ sı ǝoʍ ɔıʇɐɯɐɹp ʎɯ ʇno buıdɯoʇs 'ʇıɥs ʎɯ uo ǝɯ buıןןɐɔ 'puǝıɹɟ ǝnɹʇ ɐ s,ʇɐɥʇ 'ɥɔno "˙noʎ pǝןןıʞ ʎןɹɐǝu ʇɐɥʇ uo ʇnd noʎ ǝpɐɔɐɟ buıʇsnɐɥxǝ ǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ ǝnuıʇuoɔ oʇ noʎ buıʍoןןɐ ʇou ǝɹɐ ʎpoq puɐ puıɯ ɹǝqos ɹnoʎ ʍou ǝqʎɐɯ ¿ǝɹɐ noʎ oɥʍ ɹǝqɯǝɯǝɹ (oʇ ʇuɐʍ ʇ,uop ɹo) ʇ,uɐɔ ʎןןɐǝɹ noʎ ʇɐɥʇ buoן os ɹoɟ ɹoıʌɐɥǝq pɐq puɐ ןoɥoɔןɐ puɐ sbnɹp ɥʇıʍ dn ʇı pǝɹǝʌoɔ noʎ ʇnq 'ןnɟɹɐǝɟ puɐ ǝɹnɔǝsuı ǝɹǝʍ sʎɐʍןɐ noʎ ʇɐɥʇ ǝןqıssod ʇı sı" 'ʎןʇuǝnboןǝ os pǝʇɐʇs 'ʍouʞ ʇou ʇsnظ puɐ ɥʇıʍ "ǝʌoן uı" ǝq ʎןןɐnʇɔɐ ʎɐɯ ı oɥʍ ǝuo 'puǝıɹɟ ɹǝɥʇouɐ ˙ǝq oʇ pǝsn ı ʇɐɥʇ uosɹǝd ןɐǝɹ 'ʇuǝpıɟuoɔ 'ǝɹnɔǝs 'ʇuǝbıןןǝʇuı 'ʎddɐɥ ʇǝʎ 'ʍoןןɐɥs ʎןןɐuoıʇoɯǝ ǝɥʇ buıǝq oʇ ʞɔɐq ʇǝb puɐ ʞɔɐɹɔ ɹǝqʎɔ ǝɥʇ uʍop ʇnd oʇ pǝǝu ı ˙sןןǝɔ uıɐɹq ʎɯ pǝuɹnq ɹo 'ʎɹnظuı pɐǝɥ ɐ pǝɹǝɟɟns ǝʌɐɥ ı ɟı sɐ s,ʇı ˙ʎןʇuǝɔǝɹ ןıʇun ǝɟıן ɟo ʇɹɐd ʎuɐ ʇnoqɐ pǝsnɟuoɔ ɹo ǝɹnɔǝsuı ʎןpɹɐʍʇno sɐ ɹǝʌǝu sɐʍ ı ʇɐɥʇ ɯɹıɟuoɔ uɐɔ ǝɯ ʍouʞ oɥʍ ǝsoɥʇ
 ˙ʎɐʍ uʍo ʎɯ uı ʞɔnʇs ɯɐ ı 'ʇnd ʎןdɯıs 'pǝzʎןɐɹɐd ʎןןɐuoıʇoɯǝ puɐ ʎןןɐɔısʎɥd buıןǝǝɟ ʎןuǝppns ɯɐ ı 'buıɥʇɐoן ɟןǝs 'ןɐpıɔıns 'pǝssǝɹdǝp 'ǝuoןɐ ןןɐ 'uoıʇɐןosı uı ɯɐ ı ˙ʎʇǝıxuɐ 'ʇsnɹʇsıp 'ʇqnop 'ɹɐǝɟ puɐ ʎʇıɹnɔǝsuı ɥʇıʍ ǝɯoɔɹǝʌo ɯɐ ı 'ʇı ʍouʞ ı ǝɹoɟǝq puɐ ʇxǝʇ ı puɐ ןıɐɯǝ ı puɐ ʇɐɥɔ ı puɐ 'ʇǝuɹǝʇuı ǝɥʇ ɥɔɹɐǝs ı puɐ 'ʍǝu ǝuoǝɯos ʇuɐʍ ı 'ǝɯ ǝɹoq ʇɐɥʇ "sɹɐןnbǝɹ" ǝɥʇ s,ʇı ˙uǝɯ ןןɐ ʇou ןןǝʍ 'uǝɯ ɥʇıʍ pǝʇsnbsıp ǝɯoɔǝq ı 'ʇuɐʍ ʎןןɐǝɹ ı ʇɐɥʍ ɟo ʞuıɥʇ ı uǝɥʍ ɹǝʌǝʍoɥ 'ǝɯıʇ ʎuɐ ʇɐ ןןɐɔ uɐɔ ı oɥʍ ɹo ןןɐɔ oɥʍ uǝɯ ןɐɹǝʌǝs ǝʌɐɥ ןןıʇs ı ˙ɐǝɹɐ ʇɐɥʇ uı pǝʞɔɐן ɹǝʌǝu ı puɐ 'ǝɔuǝpıɟuoɔ ʇnoqɐ s,ʇı ˙ɔʇǝ 'ǝbɐ 'ǝdʎʇ ʎpoq ɟo ssǝןpɹɐbǝɹ 'ǝʌǝıɥɔɐ oʇ buıɥʇ pɹɐɥ ɐ ʇou sı xǝs ˙sǝʇnuıɯ ɟo ɹǝʇʇɐɯ ɐ uıɥʇıʍ uʍop ɯǝɥʇ pǝq ɹo ɯǝɥʇ ɥʇıʍ spuǝıɹɟ ǝʞɐɯ ɹǝɥʇıǝ puɐ sʎnb ʍǝu ʇǝǝɯ oʇ pǝsn uɐɯoʍ ǝɯɐs ǝɥʇ ɯɐ ı        

˙(buıɥʇoןɔ ssǝן ʎןʇuɐɔıɟıubıs buıɹɐǝʍ ǝɹɐ ǝןdoǝd ǝɥʇ puɐ 'buıbuıs ǝɹɐ spɹıq ǝɥʇ puɐ 'buıʇɐɯ ǝɹɐ sןɐɯıuɐ ǝɥʇ ɟo ןןɐ uǝɥʍ ʇnoqɐ sbuıɹq ǝɯıʇbuıɹds ʇɐɥʇ ssǝuıןǝuoן ɟo ɹǝpuıɯǝɹ ןnɟuıɐd ǝɥʇ ʎןdɯıs ɹo '"ɹǝpɹosıp ǝʌıʇɔǝɟɟɐ ןɐuosɐǝs" sdɐɥɹǝd) ˙sɥʇuoɯ ʍǝɟ ʇsɐן ǝɥʇ uı ʇuıod ǝɯos ʇɐ ʎןpǝʇɔǝdxǝun ɹǝɥʇɐɹ uoıʇɔǝɹıp pǝbuɐɥɔ ǝʌɐɥ oʇ ɹɐǝddɐ pןnoʍ puɐ 'ʎןʇɐǝɹb ʎɟısuǝʇuı oʇ pǝɯǝǝs ʇı ˙uıɐbɐ ǝɯıʇ puɐ ǝɯıʇ ˙˙˙ʞɔnɟ-puıɯ 'ɔıuɐɯ-ɐɹʇןn 'ןɐnʇǝdɹǝd 'buıןɐɹıds ʎןpıdɐɹ puɐ buıʌıbɹoɟun 'snoıɔɐdɐɹ sıɥʇ ǝsɐɥɔ ı uıɐbɐ 'ʎʇıuɐsuı ʎɯ ɟo ʎʇıןɐǝɹ ɥsɹɐɥ ǝɥʇ oʇ buıuɹnʇǝɹ ǝןıɥʍ "¿buıop ı ɯɐ ןןǝɥ ǝɥʇ ʇɐɥʍ" 'pnoן ʇno puɐ ʎןɹɐןnbǝɹ ɟןǝsʎɯ ʞsɐ ı        

˙uoıʇɐʇuǝsǝɹd ןɐɔıuıןɔ ɐ ɥɔns ɹoɟ uǝɯıɔǝds ןɐǝpı ǝɥʇ sdɐɥɹǝd ɯɐ ı ʇɐɥʇ ǝzıןɐǝɹ ı ˙ʎʇǝıxuɐ puɐ ssǝupɹɐʍʞʍɐ ןɐıɔos oʇ ʇɔǝظqns ןןɐɟ oʇ ʎןǝʞıן ǝuo ı ɯɐ ʎןuo ʇou ʇɐɥʇ ǝzıןɐǝɹ ı 'pɹɐʍɹǝʇɟɐ buoן ɹǝʌǝʍoɥ 'pǝɹǝʇsıbǝɹ ʎןןɐuıɟ ʇı uǝɥʍ ˙pɐǝɥ uʍo ʎɯ uo ǝןddɐ ǝɥʇ ǝǝs oʇ ʎʇıןıqɐuı ʎɯ ɟo ǝןdɯɐxǝ ɹɐǝןɔ ɐ sı sıɥʇ ˙ǝsןǝ ǝuoǝɯos ǝzıɔıʇıɹɔ oʇ ʇı buısn ɯɐ ı 'ǝsɹnoɔ ɟo ssǝןun 'buoן ɹoɟ ʇı ɹǝqɯǝɯǝɹ ʇ,uoʍ ı 'ǝɯ uıɥʇıʍ pɹoɥɔ ɐ ǝʞıɹʇs ʎןǝʇɐıpǝɯɯı ʇ,usǝop ʇı ɟı puɐ 'ǝpɐɯ uoıuıdo ɟo ʇuǝɯǝʇɐʇs ןɐɹǝuǝb ʎuɐ oʇ uǝʇsıן ɟןɐɥ oʇ ǝɯ sʍoןןɐ ʎןuo obǝ ʎɯ ˙ǝnbɹɐ oʇ ʇuɐʍ pןnoʍ ı buıɥʇǝɯos ןןɐ ʇɐ ʇou s,ʇı (ǝsɹnoɔ ɟo ɟןǝsʎɯ uɐɥʇ ɹǝɥʇo) ǝןdoǝd ʇnoqɐ op ı ʇɐɥʍ buıʍouʞ ˙ǝɯ ʇou ʇsnظ 'ǝןdoǝd ɟo ɹǝqɯnu ɐ uı ˙ǝnɹʇ sı ʇı ʇɐɥʇ ʍouʞ ı sɐ ǝǝɹbɐ op ı 'sıɥʇ ǝʇɐıʇuɐʇsqns oʇ sǝıpnʇs uǝǝq ʎןןɐnʇɔɐ ǝʌɐɥ ǝɹǝɥʇ ˙ssǝupɹɐʍʞʍɐ ןɐıɔos ǝʇoɯoɹd oʇ pǝɯǝǝs ʎboןouɥɔǝʇ ʍoɥ ɟo ǝʞods ǝɥ ˙buıbɐssǝɯ ʇxǝʇ puɐ 'ʇɐɥɔ ǝuıןuo 'ןıɐɯǝ buıpɹɐbǝɹ uoıuıdo uɐ pǝɔıoʌ oɥʍ ʇɔǝdsoɹd buıʇɐp ɐ ɥʇıʍ uoıʇɐsɹǝʌuoɔ ɟǝıɹq ɐ uodn ʞɔɐq buıʇɔǝןɟǝɹ uǝɥʍ pǝɯɹıɟuoɔ ǝɹǝʍ ɟןǝsʎɯ ɟo sɹɐǝɟ puɐ suoıɔıdsns buıbbɐu uʍo ʎɯ