Avoidance...

So for those of you new to my blog, lets sum up. I went to Afghanistan in 2008, got back in 2009. Saw a whole bunch of really fun stuff over there, did a lot of really fun things over there. Came back, started a family, damn near got divorced, still hanging on by a thread and now I live in Pennsylvania while my wife and daughters live in Michigan. I know, that's a very brief overview but the cherry on top to all of that is that since 2009, I've been dealing with a pretty pronounced case of PTSD. I've had my ups and my downs. But that is enough to bring you up to speed on what I'm about to cover.

Avoidance: The action of keeping away from or not doing something.

How many of us (vets) can see that in our daily lives. I'm going to take a wild guess and say just about all of us. Even the ones who don't have PTSD.

Just a thought, I could be wrong, but at least for me who is the only person I can speak for with any kind of certainty, avoidance is the order of the day. Has been for years. Its like it became my first general order.

I will avoid everything within the limits of my life and quit my avoidance only when properly relieved.

 That fit in there pretty good. For those of you who don't know, the first general order is I will guard everything within the limits of my post and quit my post only when properly relieved.

So anyways, avoidance is mother fucker. Because if you're avoiding everything in your life you're really not solving anything or getting anywhere. Avoidance is all about comfort. You avoid things so you're not uncomfortable. You don't want to deal with crowds because they make your hands sweat. You don't want to be near hajis because they make your heart race. You don't want to smell diesel because it just smells so damn good. Seriously they need to make cologne out of that shit.

In my case, I've been known to hide out in my house or work for months at a time. Basically, if it is not required to maintain my employment or my life I don't do it. Just enough to make sure I don't get fired and I don't die. I can't really explain it any more succinctly than that.

Now there's a lot of issues with that, chief among them is basically being dead. For all intents and purposes I believe that acting like that is tantamount to volunteering to be dead.

If that's not dumb as a box of shit I don't know what is.

But what do you do about it? I mean you can spout a few platitudes about whatever but that doesn't really help anyone who is right in the thick of this shit. Truly it doesn't. I always love it when people say shit like, "Oh you just need to get out there and do things, once you do that it'll go away."

How about this, the idea isn't to get it to go away. Truthfully, I don' think it will ever go away. Those feelings will always be just one little step away. To be perfectly honest, I don't know if I them to go away. If they did, I might be losing a major part of my life. Something that I am ridiculously proud of.  When my country called, I answered. I fought, and I made it home. I don't want to suppress that or forget it.

So how do we get to being able to live with it and not drive myself and/or everyone around me fucking insane? That's the $64,000 question.

Enter Cognitive Behavioral Therapy Stage Left!

CBT to my fat ass's rescue.

Is it a miracle cure? I suppose initially I thought so. But you have to get in your own head, which is someplace I imagine the majority of us combat vets aren't real keen on going most times.

So I dreamed up an imaginary friend to help me out. Okay, I might have had a little help from my adolescent fantasy land that I lived in from about 9-15 years of age, but whatever works right. Just imagine Ronda Rousey with tiggle bitties. That's my imaginary friend. A better characterization might be the woman who calls out all my destructive thought patterns and is nice enough to call me a "bitch" when I need to hear it. I do need to hear that quite a bit.

Basically, the way that I understand it (and I'm not a shrink so I may get it wrong, I'm only talking about me) is that the basis of CBT is to catch yourself thinking the bullshit that makes you unhappy, anxious, depressed, lazy or anything else you don't want to be and when you catch yourself, challenge that shit and find the fallacious thinking that you are doing and show yourself that you're full of shit.

Its hard to do. Its not easy to spend your day examining your thoughts and checking them. Especially when you're like me. I've got to challenge just about every thought that runs through my head. But it gets easier, and you learn different things to adapt your mind to the rigors of thinking about thinking. In my case, I created my imaginary friend. So in my head its almost like someone else is in there watching my thoughts and when a bad one comes by it grabs it, shakes it in my face and says, "What is this shit, bitch?"

It works. No one can tell me it doesn't. I do it every day and if I didn't do it everyday I would most likely have eaten a bullet many many years ago. So my existence is a testament to how well this stuff works.

See for yourself. Talk to a shrink. Tell them you want to do CBT, most of them will be all over that shit. If you don't want to go to a shrink, then you gotta read. So decide which one you hate less and if it you elect to read, this is the book you should start with FEELING GOOD

Okay, that's enough of my shit for one day.

Book Recommendation: The Coddling of the American Mind.

Here's a website all about it.

Now, I got a remote start installed on my truck today. Mostly because its starting to get F-ing cold around here and I don't want to have to get in a cold truck every morning. I want to get in a warm truck. So $339 later here I am.

But I had to take it in to the shop this morning to get it put in, and I didn't have anyone to give me a ride home so instead of waiting there I figured I'd head over to Barnes & Noble and see what I could dig up. First book I picked up was "The Coddling of the American Mind"

Its no big secret that college campuses are bastions of leftist thought. That in and of itself is not earth shattering at all. The problem with it is that they have gotten to the point where the free exchange of ideas is tantamount to violence in their minds. The idea being that, if you think differently than they do, and you have the nerve to speak, then you're being violent.

I am about midway through the book and I got it this morning so I can tell you the prose is excellent and it keeps you interested. I haven't gotten to the last part of the book where they are going to delve into some solutions to this mental illness that seems to be pervasive in all these kids.

That is one thing that I think they did exceptionally well. They recommend CBT, which anyone who has been through my wonderful history with PTSD knows is a Godsend. Its basically, a thought modification project you do in your own head. For the most part, works like a charm. So, if you find yourself in a depressed state, do some reading on CBT, do some of the thought worksheets and start catching your bullshit thoughts before they spill out into your life. Its what I did. If you need a place to start reading here it is.

Also, I don't think I'm the only one who finds the fact that these guys posit that these college kids who can't seem to hear certain words without having a conniption, need to do some cognitive behavioral therapy. They may not have meant it this way, I cannot speak to their motives, but in my mind the implication there is that these kids are on some level, fucking nuts.

Now I'm not one for bashing generations. Okay, that's not true. But I normally do it up, not down. I train the majority of ire onto the boomers. Additionally, I work in a profession where younger people are needed, and my profession is having exceptional problems attracting and keeping quality kids nowadays. This doesn't bode well for the future of my job. Which, unfortunately isn't going anywhere. So we need to figure out how to work with this younger generation and be able to hand this off to someone when I'm too old for this shit.

Typically, older folks love to bash the kids. I'm not really too interested in that on a macro level. On a micro-level, I think its great. These chuckle-heads are endlessly entertaining to me. But when you think about it big picture, whether we like it or not, its the old who have to adjust to the young. Pretty soon we'll be senior citizens drawing our non-existent social security and belly aching about the discount we get at the Cracker Barrel, and they'll be running...well everything.

I also would like to point out how each generation always manages to forget that the generations that they love to talk shit about are their own damn kids. Take some fucking responsibility. My kids are 5 and 3. So I'm going to have to answer for them in a couple decades.

That went all over the place didn't it? Anyway, pick up a copy if you're looking for something to read.

Today, She Put The Dog Down...

And I wasn't there. I knew it was coming, but I didn't know it was coming today. I picked that dog out. When he came up and laid on my feet years ago I said, This one.

Now after that he became a royal pain in the ass. He was a spaz. He had to be medicated and toward the end of his life he peed everywhere. But he was a dog, and that by itself made him good.

My wife tells me she did it while I wasn't home because I didn't even like the dog. Which is partly true. I didn't really like him, but there were times when he grew on me. But that's not what I'm getting at here. I picked him out. I am part of the family, I'm supposed to be the head of the family. I wanted to be there. Not just for the dog, but for her.

She calls me up crying to let me know that Ranger is gone and while I felt for him, I felt for her too. I felt for my little girls. My little girls who are going to ask where the dog is later. I didn't want to miss this. I want to be there for my family. But I can't. My job, and our future won't allow that right now.

But it doesn't hurt any less.

I'm sorry I wasn't there to at least say goodbye Ranger.

I'm sorry I wasn't there to comfort you Princess.

I'm sorry I won't be there to answer your questions girls.

I'm so so sorry.

That Might Have Been A Little Over The Top...

I don't know if you read what I wrote yesterday, but it came from a pretty dark place. I've been there myself. From time to time, I feel the need to go back for a little bit. Not quite sure why that is, but its a thing.

So here I sit watching a bunch of nerdy chuckleheads playing poker on TV. Yes, I've fallen that far, I'm actually watching people playing cards on TV.

In any case, I wanted to say that you don't need to worry. I mean feel free if that's the kind of thing you like to do. I mean some people are worriers. But make no mistake. While there have been some thoughts had. Maybe thoughts that most would say I shouldn't be having...they were had nonetheless.

I don't think that having suicidal or homicidal thoughts is really that big of a deal. I think the problem lies in there being really no way, other than self reporting, for anyone to differentiate between thoughts and plans.

Plans would mean you set down and figured out how many guns and bullets you need and where to get them if you don't have them already and where you were going to stand and all that stuff. Maybe followed by a dry run or a practice if you will, or maybe a rehearsal to use the parlance I learned in the Army. We rehearsed most of our missions, if we had time. What is that other than practicing to kill someone. They gave me medals for that. If I did the same thing here, I'm headed to a padded room.

I haven't broken with reality. I haven't lost my will to live. On the contrary, I think its all the more solidified. Given the fact that like the word contrary, I am a contrarian and if I think for one minute that there are people in the world that would like to see me out of the picture that is all the reason that I need to stay in it and increase my profile if you will. Basically, I am too big of an asshole to want to kill myself.

A Local Man...

A local man was shot in the head last night. Police are unsure of the cause of the shooting. Currently the CSI crew is working on figuring out whether he shot himself or if one of his many fans came and did the honors for him. No note was found, but the man did have tears streaking down his cheeks leading the investigators to speculate it was self inflicted. A large cache of VA prescription medications were found in the man's apartment.

No one has come forward to claim the body as yet. Police are working to find the next of kin. Which is to say, they are looking for someone who legally has to take this dead fuck off their hands so they don't have to bury him in a cheap grave on the county plot. It may be cheap, but that shit is still expensive to the taxpayers.

His funeral was attended by a smattering of old friends and a few old enemies who just wanted to make sure it was him that was getting put in the ground. A few tears were shed, a few chuckles and a couple evil grins,  but for the most part it was business as usual again before the first shovel full of dirt hit the top of that pine refrigerator box the county was good enough to purchase for him.

His life was fairly unremarkable. His landlord said he paid the rent on time, but he needed to get the clean up crew in the apartment to get that bitch rented out again. The family will not be getting the security deposit back. Time marches on...

He did manage to leave his children a couple life insurance policies. A parting gift from a father not worth his salt. The insurance agent joked, "consider it 18 years of child support paid in full"

Oh don't worry about me. I'm just trying to find out how deep my darkness goes. If you thought I was talking about myself, rest assured I am not. I wouldn't give any mother fucker on earth the satisfaction. I am going to live to a ripe old age and die alone, but not miserable. Or maybe I'll get lucky and find a way to go out in a blaze of glory...not likely, but its possible.

In any case, if I ever come up with a bullet in my head, make no mistake about it, someone else put it there. I choose life.

Oh How I Love It So...

Everyday at one point or another I'll stare out into space and somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind I can smell it. I can smell the dust, I can smell the nasty shit farts of all the GI's belting out the last remnants the steak and lobster we had at Salerno the other night. I can hear that low guttural hum coming from the patrol fueling back up next to the LZ.

I can feel the sweat rolling down my back. I can smell the cigarettes and piss emanating through the back door as I do believe that the only place in society today where smoking is not only tolerated, but accepted and even encouraged is in the military. Plus, the piss tubes are behind the "barracks", or the KBR Quonset huts that have contained our beds for the past few months.
I can feel the 550 cord tied around my wrist. Left over remnant of an overzealous platoon daddy who liked to take weapons while a motherfucker was sleeping.

I can feel the dust. Yeah, I'm back to the dust again. That god damned dust again. It gets into everything. Its on the sheets. Its on the floor...along with the funny looking skid mark left over from the lone 7.62 round that came crashing through the roof the other night. It never lets up, the dust. It is constantly rubbing your hands raw. Rubbing your face until its smooth, well except for the permanent layer of dust that is caked on your face...and everything else for that matter.

I hear the emmy award winning conversation coming from somewhere a few bunks down pertaining to the cost of butt sex in Bagram.
The fucking dust again. Its between my teeth now. So much so that every time I close my mouth I can feel and hear the fucking dust crunching between my teeth. I take a bottle of water from under the rack and swish it around in my mouth trying to get it out of there. Which only succeeds in relocating the bulk of the dust from my mouth to my stomach. I'm going to be shitting dust covered turds for a  year.

Then someone says something to me. Or the phone rings. Or some such shit. And I'm back. Back here. Watching some nonsensical TV show, or flogging the dolphin, or smoking a cigarette while the old bag across the street looks at me like I'm the devil himself. I can't help but wink at her.

Then a little bit of me feels a little twinge of guilt. What the fuck am I feeling guilty about? Hell if I know. For the life of me I still can't figure that one out. But the fact remains, I miss it. I miss it, because oh how I love it so...

Kids Today....

How many times throughout your life have you heard that phrase? Kids today. Normally it is used derisively against whoever the "kid" is. Also, have you noticed that people are real fluid in their definitions of kid vs adult, old vs young when it comes to themselves. Just an observation I'm not sure where it fits into this but its been on my mind so there it is.

Its especially true of those of the population my age and younger. I'm 41 and for the sake of argument I could probably be representative of most people up to age 45. Then those kids younger than me. Millennial I believe they're called. But it seems like no one at the older end of that generation wants to be associated with them. Have you noticed that? Its not all of them. Just the old ones. You know the ones who were almost in the previous generation but missed it by a year or two on the cut off?

Also, who the hell picks the dates on these generations? I can't figure out what they use as the criteria. A major event? Just a random date. A epoch distance from one fixed point in time? Fucked if I know.

For the sake of today's diatribe we're going to use the above chart. Why? The incredibly scientific method of it was the first one I saw when I googled "define the generations", and surprisingly enough it fits very nicely with my view of myself and the world. (Define confirmation bias) Plus its the Pew Research Center. I've heard of them before.

But I want to talk about the people who were born between say 1981-1985. These people are now 34-38 years old. I've got a lot of friends in this age group. One night at a bar with my brother someone was talking about this shit and he got real defensive about not being a millenial. He had no interest in being one. Which I suppose I can understand, at least from where I sit the vast majority of press on millenials is negative. But it doesn't take a rocket surgeon to figure out that this is the never ending story. Every generation thinks the one that came before and the one that comes after are shit. The only generation that's worth a damn is the one you're in. Except them guys that fought WWII they're exempt from all this shit, cuz everyone knows they're the best...except for the fact that the baby boomers are 100% all their fault. 

But I still didn't know what to do with the whole, "I hate my own generation" thing. I suppose since I'm a generation Xer, it doesn't faze me all that much. I mean they've made TV shows about my childhood now (The Goldbergs) and the consensus is that my childhood pretty much rocked. *I have some issues with that, but on the whole for the generation its true. 

Plus, we're the generation who were the last to live when there wasn't a computer in every fucking pocket. The machines didn't run my life from jump street. I mean they do now, but it didn't start off that way. I wonder if there's a certain amount of intergenerational jealousy because we actually know what its like to live in a world without smart phones? Maybe I'm nuts. Or I'm trying to justify my own feelings of superiority. Could be, but it doesn't change the fact that at least in my experience those kids born 1981-1985 are the only people who will argue with you about what generation they're in. I've rambled long enough. Looking back, I really need to start structuring my posts some kind of way. This stream of consciousness shit is exhausting...

Why Am I Always Stuck..Or Am I A Fraud....

I've been wondering why I always feel stuck. This has been a recurring theme with me over the years. I mean, I never quite feel like I'm progressing towards my goals the way I should be, or at the speed that I feel I should be.

Does anyone? Yes, I'm certain of it. There's a small subset of people out there who get up each morning and do the things that they want to do and get the things done that they need to get done and move forward in their lives at a formidable pace. They have to be out there...I know because I'm typing this on a computer hooked to the internet through a VPN that is pretending my computer is in Sydney, Australia. I mean if that's not proof enough I don't know what is.

So, they exist. We know this. All human progress has rested on their very capable shoulders. Now here I am thinking that I don't belong where I'm at and that I have no business being who I am and doing what I do. By that I mean, I have what some might call a fraud issue. I keep thinking that I'm a fraud. I suppose at some level I know that I'm not. I mean I put in the time to get where I am. I did the work. I learned what I needed to learn. But there's always this nagging feeling inside that I don't belong. That something is going to come up that shows everyone around me that I am not good enough for this. That they made a mistake elevating me to this position. I don't have the goods to bring home the bacon.

I'm a father. I'm a veteran. I'm an educated man. Partially anyway. I've made it to a point at work where I'm listened to. My opinion is respected. My words are heeded. And for the life of me I cannot figure out why anyone would listen to me for anything at all...

I suppose that's where my fraud trouble comes in. I cannot understand how I got here. I sometimes think that its all a joke. That Drew Carey is going to walk around the corner and I'll find out that I've been a really bad reality TV show for the past 12 years. Hell, the past 41 years.

But we all know that's bullshit. Not to say that you can't make it being a fraud, I mean what's the guy's name from "Catch Me If You Can"? That son of a bitch faked his way through almost everything. So its not like it can't be done, but I do know that I'm not smart enough to have faked it. Not for this long anyway.

Like so many of us, I think I run into my issues when I start comparing myself to the few instead of either not comparing myself to anyone but my former self, or at least comparing myself to the unwashed masses as opposed to the small sliver of exceptional people who are the subject of my comparisons.

So and so graduated from Harvard at 11, I can barely find Harvard on a map. So and so was the worlds youngest billionaire, I can barely keep my checking account in the black. So and so won the olympic whatever the fuck, and I get winded running up the stairs.

Maybe I should be happy I graduated from a college. Maybe not one that is known the world over, but it had books and professors. Maybe I should be happy I've got an income. I may not have bankers throwing hookers through my bedroom window for business, but when I need something I can get it. I won't win any Olympic medals in this lifetime, but maybe I should be happy that my legs work to get my fat ass up the stairs in the first place, and be glad I'm winded as opposed to all those poor bastards who have breathed their last wind.

Like so much, its all a matter of perspective....

The Joys of Modern Chemistry...

Ha, I bet with that title you thought I was going to write something about drugs. Well, I'm not. I'm going to writing about the very basic, freshman (maybe even remedial) level chemistry course that I am taking from the University of Wisconsin that is currently kicking my ass up and down the halls of higher learning.

First things first, I think it’s awesome that in today's world I can start a course in Illinois, keep working on it in Michigan and then in Pennsylvania, and when I finish it my certificate will come from Wisconsin. I've covered damn near the entire Big 10 just with this class.
Anyway, Its a 100-level course. It should be easy. But it’s not. I'm sure I'm not dumb. At least that's what I keep telling myself. But the proof is in the pudding and Avogadro’s number is fucking up my pudding man!

So, I'm currently trying to sort out how to convert between mols and atoms, mass and mols, mass, mols and atoms, molar mass, compound molar mass and some other shit that has graciously slipped my mind. Stoichiometry which I know is a word, but apparently but the dictionary on this program doesn't think so.

Now here I sit with my periodic table, and my print outs of the book and my subscription to Chegg which is basically a service designed to pay someone else to answer your homework. Fucking brilliant. I wish we had that when I was in high school. Probably would’ve been a game changer. Then again I might have just been really lazy and not done a damn thing with it. Luckily I’m an adult now and I have to pay for this shit, so I do the work.
Okay, that might be a little bit of bullshit. I did have to purchase an extension. So, I do the work, but I must pay extra for more time. I’m not going to say that it’s a good thing that such a mechanism exists, but I suppose given that it’s a 100 level course and I’m not going to be put in charge of the formula for the rocket fuel that’s going to get us to Mars I think it’s a forgivable sin.

Needless to say, and this is question that has been rolling around in my head for a while. I haven’t bothered to even attempt to try to ascertain the answer since it involves chemistry and I imagine that it would hurt my feeble little mind even further. But here’s the question….
Avogadro’s number is the number of particles in one mole of any substance. It’s a gigantic number. For example, one mol of pencil erasers would cover the entire earth’s surface to a depth of 500 meters. THAT IS ABSOLUTELY INSANE!!!

Now how in the hell did he figure that out in 1811 (Avogadro’s constant) and how the hell did they update it to Avogadro’s number in 1909?

We have computers that can-do math that no human could do. They can do math in an instant that there’s not enough paper at Staples to write out by hand. Does anyone think about this kind of stuff, or are you guys smart enough to avoid the headache?

There Comes A Time...

When you just got to let it go. There's no real sense in hanging on to it. Whatever it is. In my case, its my ridiculous idea that my family could ever be normal. Quote, unquote. Now I'm not talking in the cliche sense that some people have of "why would you want to be normal?" That sort of shit.

I'm talking about just seeing the world in a way that makes sense to me currently. Not something that I have to work at, or learn new things for, or possibly do things that normally I wouldn't do. I don't want to have to read books and be in therapy to get my brain wrapped around the situation in which I currently find myself.

Its time for me to let that shit go. Its time for me to let this guy that I've become go. For fucks sake I haven't felt like myself in years. I'm walking around not knowing who the fuck I am or where the fuck to go. Because I'm clinging ever so tightly to something that is just a figment of my imagination, a ghost if you will.

Now how does one let go of something that has come to define them? I didn't want it to define me. There was a time when I was light. There was a time when I could float. There was a time when life did not weigh on my brow. There was a time when my hair wasn't white. For fucks sake, I'm 41 and my hair is fucking white. Part of that is bad genes, but the other part is worry.

My entire body is falling apart. I can barely get up the stairs. I'm winded when I do. I am shaving years off my life and its the only one that I know for sure I get.

I have to get out from under this weight. I have to find my way back...nay...out from under this weight.

Welcome To Pennsylvania...

Okay, so I'm here. I'm chilling in an Airbnb in Scranton, and I've been here long enough now that I'm praying for work. I know that sounds a little off my rocker, but there's only so much sitting a guy can do. And since my kids aren't here, there's nothing but time. You never realize just how much of your life those little turds dominate until all of a sudden you don't have them around anymore.

I start work Monday. a single question has come to dominate my mind. I plan on spending approximately 18 months to 2 years here without my family. I plan on going home regularly. Which will most likely be incredibly expensive but it is what it is.

Now the question I have is simply this, how am I going to be able to navigate these waters away from my family for the lovely reasons I have proffered in the past and manage to come out the other end without being bitter and resentful? I'm not sure I can. I hope that I can. But I'll be damned if I know how the hell I'm going to do it.

Which does nothing for me but lead to more questions. What if I like it without them around? What if they like it without me around? What if I can't deal with what she's doing? What happens if she can't deal with what I'm doing? What if she finds someone better? What If I find someone better?

Or were these questions the plan all along...

Fucked if I know. I'm doing my best right now to just get everything set up so I can have a life here. So far so good. Got an apartment. Got the utilities turned on. Got a storage unit for all the family shit that I have to deal with when my household goods are delivered. Move in to my new place August 1, 2019. Start work tomorrow.

So life keeps trucking along. That's a given. No matter what you do time just keeps on ticking ticking...into the future. Thank you Steve Miller. So I just got to put my head down and do the work. Get into shape. Get my mind right. Get my education right. Get my finances right. Do everything I need to do for me so that when the time comes the decision that she makes is of little consequence. I'm going to have everything working at 100%, firing on all gears. There's nothing else worth doing than that.

It Has Begun...Red Pill?

I think I told you last time around that the lovely wife has started moving her shit into the new apartment. So it has begun...

Remember that part from Mortal Kombat? 

Okay, now that we've got the video game movie reference out of the way for today, we can get on to more important issues. Like this lovely new thing I've been reading about online lately that has been cracking me up.

The Red Pill: Another movie reference to the Matrix now, but a movie reference nonetheless. This is part of the manosphere, men's movement or whatever you want to call it. I'm not 100% sure what to make of it just yet. But first a little background,

The Urban Dictionary defines the "red pill" as: Signifies the recognition of the true nature of female behavior, including her attraction to traits of dominance, preference for men with status, attraction to men who have been pre-selected by other women, and hypergamous nature. Red Pill men are aware that women are strongly influenced by the culture and that their attraction cues are often outside of their conscious awareness. Increasingly, modern women, and especially Western women, indulge in one-night stands and short-term relationship in their 20s with alpha males, followed by seeking out a beta male provider in their late 20s and early 30s. Red Pill men are aware of this phenomenon and develop a sexual strategy to benefit from a woman's promiscuity as well as avoid the financial peril of marriage. Married men can also be Red Pill, as their awareness helps them handle female shit tests and maintain attraction with their partner.

A man who has taken the Red Pill is committed to self-improvement and adapting to the reality of female behavior whether that be through the application of game in his relationships and/or withdrawing from LTRs.

That's a lot to unpack. So what led me to reading all this shit? Well, its been a rough road with the wife as of late. I suppose I was looking for the echo chamber that would tell me that I'm right, she's wrong and I'm a victim of the evil matriarchy masquerading as a patriarchy. Blah, blah blah. And for a bit that's exactly what I got. But the more and more I got into it the more and more I think I learned about people and by extension of that myself.

So where did this red pill come from? Fucked if I know for sure, and its the internet so you'll never be able to totally track down its roots...that is lost to a sea of 1s and 0s. In any case, the theory I have of how it got going, and this is simply what my little pea brain dreamed up in the moments prior to me writing this:

Somewhere a while back, some man or men who knew each other all got royally burned by the women in their life. Wives having babies with other men, some horrendous shit like that. Or better yet, one of those guys who has to pay child support on a kid that's proven to not be his...yeah, those guys. Instead of channeling their anger and hate into a drunken bender with a lead meal at the end these guys decided to start writing and trying to piece together what the fuck happened to them and their lives. Now instead of blaming the "woman" singular. They blamed, "women" plural. Now, there's not a rational, intelligent person left on earth really who thinks blaming an entire population for the sins of one or a few is a good idea anymore. I know for a fact, because I blame entire hemispheres for the actions of 19 guys and I am certainly not someone to be listened to...at least not where policy is concerned. Anyway, off that tangent and back to blame.

Where as these guys should've blamed their ex-wife Sheila, they blamed all the Sheilas the world over. And they started building a philosophy around it. Some of these guys realized that the philosophy they were building had (in the short term) a dramatic effect on their lives especially in the area of meeting females and talking their knees apart. Now did they simply use this new found knowledge for good? Say, use it to teach guys who are forever stuck in virginland how to do it? Well, yes they did, but they also used it as proof positive that the female of the species is inherently evil. And they wrote about it, and studied it, and unpacked it, and researched it, and on and on they went. They even picked up a few acolytes along the way. Pook, Rollo Tommassi, and a few others are the big dogs to my knowledge. They even found a willing segment of the women of the world to agree with them. You know these girls...they're the ones who can say, "I'm not like other girls" and keep a straight face! Then with the advent of blogs and twitter and facebook and the endless proliferation of information that is the modern day interweb they realized that they could parlay this philosophy into some big money. Or at least that's my contention. I can see why a true believer would want to spread this information far and wide, but what I can't see is a man of little or no means doing what these guys do.

Its books, its websites, its online courses, its twitter, its speaking engagements, its fucking speaking tours. Its merchandise, and on and on it goes. At least Rollo Tomassi says he does it for free on his website, but he does ask for donations to Greyhounds. So I'm sure he's getting some cheddar for all this but its not a certainty that he's getting rich off it. But some are.

The reason that I bring up Rollo Tomassi is that he's the chief. He's the prophet. He's the figurehead for all of this. Type in manosphere and he pops right up. Men's movement, same shit.

So I'd like to learn more about him. Which I will in the near future but if anyone knows any shortcuts for me I am all in favor of those!

Next thing they get into or one of their big topics is "hypergamy" which I didn't even think was a word originally because you listen to any 2 of these guys on youtube and they both pronounce it differently. So I was thinking it was a situation like, "irregardless" (if you use that word you should be set on fire in a dumpster)

Basically, the word means, "marrying someone of a superior economic class than yourself"

Okay, so on its face it isn't sexist, but lets be real, there aren't a lot of rich women marrying the pool boy. They'll fuck him that's for sure, but they marry men who've got just as much if not more. Its rich guys that marry poor women. So women, if they're attractive enough can circumvent pretty much every meritocracy there is. And walk off with all the money.

To which I say, BITCHES! Not because I'm mad about it, but because I'm jealous. If all I had to do to be successful was be hot? I think I could pull it off. Now granted, very few women are hot enough to circumvent all the meritocracies. I'd guess we're talking about less than one-tenth of one percent could actually pull it off.

In any case, the manosphere has taken the actions of a small subset of women and blasted every split tail on earth with their vitriol. This is the point where, if they read this, they'll call me a cuck or cuckold, or soyboy or some other shit. Not to worry, sticks and stones and all that.

My answer to the question of hypergamy is simple, why the fuck not? If a woman can improve herself, the lives of her children and the lives of the man she marries by actively doing the things required to land a high value man, why shouldn't she do that?

My answer would be to the guys that don't like it, increase your value brother. Make more money, get better sex. That is simple. Its not a debatable point as far as the world around me is concerned. And do not give me the whole, "I love my husband and I've only been with him and he's not rich and blah, blah, blah" Okay, assuming all that's true, so what? You're one of a few billion. By in large, and on average, hypergamy is what happens, because its valuable to the survival of our species and the proliferation of strong genes. Rich kids live longer and have more children that live.

Why did I get on this rant? I was looking for an echo chamber to tell me my wife is a horrible person for what she's doing. What I found was an answer that gave birth to thousands more questions.

The answer I found is this, men and women, people in general are absolutely limitless in their capacity for insecurity. In that area at least, I am exceptional. More to come...

Last Day O' Work, Yeah Right...

So it was my last day at the prison here in Michigan. Which was nice. I mean I never really liked the place all that much. Don't get me wrong, a low security prison is nice. Except for a camp its about as close to a regular job as you're going to get in my line of work.

But its a funny thing in prison. The less time you spend fighting with the inmates, the more time you spend fighting with the staff. And vice versa. I'm sure you can all understand that concept.

But it is humorous as you walk through this life how it seems like people can equate your leaving with kind of a form of death. I mean, I'm moving on to the next institution I'm not dying. But you get all the nonsense about being missed and all that, which is fine. I guess its better than a 'good riddance, fucko, we're happy to see you go'

Last day of work, my ass. I'm right back to it in a few weeks. Most likely will be till I die. Given the fact that my dumb ass went ahead and waited till I was 36 to have my kids.

But not to worry, life is good. I'm getting all the crap wrapped up here at this house, we managed to make almost 50k on the sale, plus my company gives me a 5% bonus for selling to a private party and not making them buy it from me. So all told I'm getting almost $60,000 out of this deal.

Now, on to PA. This next adventure will be a great one.

Making The Best of Things...

Got in to a fight with the wife just now. Good times. I know, I should not being having a good time fighting with my wife. I do assure you that fighting with my wife is not a good time.

Its like trying to argue astrophysics with Neil DeGrasse Tyson. You're just not going to win. For many reasons, I mean she's smart so she makes a lot of good points, but she's also persistent so if you get into it with her you are going to keep talking about whatever it is until such time as you see things her way. She is what she is.

Then she drops a fun one on me. She went with me to PA to hunt for a house. She found some places that she liked and a place or two that she'd actually consider living. So I might have been on my way to getting this whole separation from my family thing off my plate. Then we got into a big blow out on the drive home and I went and said some dumb shit about why don't we just get a divorce or some shit like that, and with that I kiboshed any chance I had of getting her to come with.

So at least to a point, I fucked myself here. Not totally, I'm not a complete moron. The majority of this shit is her deal. She doesn't want to go, so she's not going. Sure there's more to it than that, but we don't have that kind of time and I don't think that you've got that kind of attention span.

Suffice it to say, on July 11, 2019 our house will no longer belong to us. By which time, we will have moved her and all her and the kids shit to a three bedroom apartment about 5 minutes from where we live now, so I should be thankful for that, not a real haul to move her. And after that I will hop in my truck and drive the 8 to 9 hours it takes to get to my new home in Scranton, PA. At which point we will begin the indeterminate amount of time that we will spend separated from one another. She will learn what its like to be a single mom for 98% of every month for the next year or two. And I will learn the pain of being separated from my wife and children.

First things first, don't hate on my wife. I'm venting here. I'm not giving you her side of the story at all. I'm not going to tell you all of the horrible things I've done and said and been since we've been married. Again, suffice it to say, she may have a point.

Now on to the title of this post. Making the best of things. I'm going to have to. There really is no other choice. Okay, there's always another choice but as of right now, the other choices aren't as good as making the best of this shit. It is shit, but at least its our shit. Viktor Frankl once said something profound, and I'm paraphrasing here because I don't feel like looking the shit up, "There's a place between stimulus and reaction where we get to choose our attitude and what we will do, that place is where all of life is."

That phrase, more than anything else, in my humble opinion is the basis of cognitive behavioral therapy which to date, is the only thing that has even remotely helped with my PTSD. There's a split second between input and output that you can catch yourself and force your thoughts to go to a good place instead of hell. That's the place I am going to need to spend the vast majority of my time for the foreseeable future. I am going to make the best of this...anything else would be hell on earth.

This May Just Be Sticking...

So for a few years there I was writing on the regular and it was doing wonders for my mental health. Then I stopped and if my present status is any indication, I really should have kept writing. I don't know why, nor do I really care why, writing is so cathartic. But it is, so I'm grateful. If one of you lovely people out there reads some of my bullshit once or twice then alls the better.

Now, I'm getting ready for my last day of work on Friday. Okay, not my last day of work, but my last day working here in Michigan. Next up, Pennsylvania. So my career has now taken me from Illinois to Michigan to Pennsylvania. I'm really curious what's next after that, but the next step is most likely 12-24 months into the future, depending on how ambitious I end up being. Which I think could be quite a bit. Ambitiousness that is.

I've written a few days in a row now and I'm feeling pretty good about it. Plus the words are starting to flow a little easier. At one point I was thinking why write if I don't have anything to say? I think its become write and you may find that you do have something to say. I'm sure I could've phrased that so it sounded much more profound, but one thing at a time. This is stream of consciousness here not a final draft of the state of the union.

The next project I've got on my radar is a podcast. Its not that I want a million listeners or for it to be anything in particular. I really just want to do it. I want to remind myself that I can set a goal and accomplish it. I haven't knocked out that fucking master's degree yet....but that's a story for another time.

Given that my lovely wife is blessing me with 12-24 months sans midgets (kids) I think this is about the best time I could hope to get to do a few things for myself. Podcast and master's degree. That would make for a really fucking good year. Then if I could drop a few lbs and save a few bucks all would be right in the world.

One Day Without...

Having to talk about all this lovely shit has been a God send. Unfortunately, its because my youngest daughter is sick. Thank goodness for day care and the lovely little disease factory that it is.

If you want your grown children to have strong immune systems, well get them into day care as soon as you can. they'll be sick from pretty much the first day until you take them out of the little pitrie dish. So they'll be sick all year when you can get rid of them, and they'll be perfectly healthy all summer when you can't. How convenient.

So now here she sits and I gotta take another day off of work to take care of her. Not that I mind, I mean any good reason to not go to work is a good thing in my book. I'm not sure that my boss feels the same way, but not to worry. He will only be my boss until Friday. After that my next boss is in Pennsylvania. You know, where Vampirina lives.

So she's got an apartment. She's got a job. She's got the kids in school and day care. Its not like she doesn't have her shit at least fairly wired tight. I can't take that away from her, its not like she's irresponsible or a crack head. I suppose I should be glad.

But I only have one thing left that I can do, I mean this is happening whether I like it or not. So I may as well lighten the fuck up and make the best of it. Not for her sake, absolutely not. She doesn't have anything coming for this little stunt she's pulling. But why should I be unhappy because she can't pull her head out of her ass? Why should I be miserable because she has issues with her psyche? Fuck that, not my circus, not my monkeys.

I think that's about the healthiest outlook I could have on this shit. I mean, there's no doubt in my mind that this episode she's currently in has warped her brain. For fucks sake she still swears up and down that we're not separating! How the fuck is living 8 hours apart driving not separating? If that's not separating I don't know what is.

But back to me, the only thing, the only reasonable thing I can do anymore is to make the best of this. Now exactly what does that mean? That's something we'll cover the next time I sit down to tip tap away at this keyboard.

Hold Your Tongue...

Kinda been a theme in my life that I run off at the mouth quickly and without a whole lot of thought. Its just what I do. Its what I've always done. In some cases it has served me well, in others, not so much.

Here in my marriage it has not served me well at all, to the point that it has led us to the brink of divorce. I'm fairly certain we are just about there. She seems to think that sending me off to Pennsylvania and keeping herself and my children in Michigan is nothing more than a speed bump. I tend to think a little differently.

I most likely deserve this shit. I won't even try to say that I didn't have this coming. I made my bed...she said don't take me to another place like fucking Mayberry and I did. So such is life. What else can I say, the past is done, we can only deal with the going forward part of this whole thing.

So she's got a job. She's looking for an apartment. I'm moving to PA come July 11 and that as they say is that. I'll be staying in a house in Scranton for the first few months, then I'll find an apartment or maybe a cheap house and settle in for the 18 months to 2 years that I hope is all this separation takes. In the meantime, we'll both be doing whatever it is people do when they're separated, which is to say horrible things that neither one of us will want to cop to after this is all over.

But basically, through all of this the one thing that keeps jumping out at me is my impulsiveness is what continually ruins everything for me. I can't keep my shit wired tight for nothing. Whatever bullshit comes to mind that will make me feel better right at that moment is what comes shooting out of my filthy sewer. Which obviously is about as useful as a football bat.

How the fuck will I ever learn to hold my tongue? How will I learn to play chess instead of checkers? How will I learn how to not be such a woman about all of this shit? So far, I've failed miserably at all of these tests. But I've still got some time to make it right, and I've got the separation to control myself and accomplish some fucking goals. I mean how many men are gifted a couple years of basically being single again during their marriages? Then again, this is not voluntary so it doesn't take much of the sting out.

Either way, impulsiveness has got to go. Tongue, has got to be held. No choice. It is what it is.

What To Do...

When your wife wears a shorter skirt to her "Girls Night Out" than she does to your date night?

Its an interesting question. One I never thought I'd have to be asking or answering that is for damn sure. So my wife has been testing me I believe. Much like females are bound to do. They get bored. So you must never be boring. To my knowledge they'd rather be abused than bored.

But I've gotten boring. I have certainly abdicated my throne in the house that is for sure. Not 100% sure why I did so, but that is neither here nor there right now. More important is the question of how do I move forward with this? Do I move forward with this, or do I just walk.

There's a certain amount of investment in this that I don't want to walk away from. There is that. I mean its been 8 years and 2 kids, who are still young so I'll be paying child support on for years to come, but I'd be doing that either way so I suppose that is a wash. She has taken to this fairy tale land of Kik chat rooms. She's started using the slang of the milieu which makes me laugh to hear because they treat it like its a real thing. Actually, I take that back, the trouble is, to them it is real. They have and create drama in the rooms. People getting power and losing it. People starting and ending relationships. People abusing one another from their lofty positions as an "admin"

She spends hours doing this everyday. She stays up till 1 or 2 am doing this shit. And she doesn't seem to see a thing wrong with it. She doesn't seem to see anything wrong with spending this much time in a virtual social scene when her husband and 2 kids are sitting here wondering where the fuck mommy went.

Then they started getting together in real life. Okay, so at least that pulls some of this shit from the virtual to the real which I suppose is a step in the right direction, but then she spends all night out with them. Oh yeah, that went over like a fart in church. Now she's at it again.

Then there was the night we went to meet one of her new friends. Went fine for about an hour. Then I got to spend the rest of the night watching TV in a bar because they are talking about getting "rolled" out of chat rooms because they don't want to be in them anymore. Nice job doll. You tried to include me then when we got there you excluded me.

I think this one is going down in flames. I sure hope not, but I imagine there's someone out there ringing her bell.

Hypergamy...

So the internet is a wonderful place. I learn all sorts of new things, seemingly every day I learn something new.

Recently I learned a new word. Hypergamy.

Basically, the act of marrying someone from a higher social class than yourself.

Normally, its used to refer to gold digging women.

However, I might be crazy but I've got a few thoughts on the subject because you hear it a lot when you're looking at the "manosphere" Or what some have billed as men's rights or the male answer to feminism.

I'm not going to get into all the ideas of either camp. That'll take way too long and it will most likely lead to a lot of...well bullshit.

So I'm going to confine myself to hypergamy. The idea that women marry up. Which if you listen to Jordan Peterson (and I do) is a well documented fact. Not a universal truth but on average women marry across and up dominance hierarchies. While men typically marry across and down dominance hierarchies.

Simple way to picture it is: Male doctor's marry lots of female nurses. Female doctors very rarely if ever marry male nurses. They marry other doctors.

I think that any person who has observed society for any length of time can say that yes this is a true idea. Again, its not true in every case, but by in large it is the case. Now the denizens of the manosphere think this is proof positive that women are inherently broken. They shouldn't act in this way. The spectrum of vitriol on this ranges from the "women are evil because they won't let me fuck them" side to the " women are a game to be won so that I can fuck them" side.

Regardless of how you feel about the issue its not female hypergamy that I want to talk about. Its the male form. You don't see a lot of men lining up to get into the morbidly obese school bus driver do ya? The waitress who works the graveyard shift at IHOP isn't exactly beating off the suitors is she?

My question about this is simple, and it begs so many other questions that its staggering but the question is this: Why is having standards such a bad thing?

Men who don't have jobs or ambitions, or intelligence or discipline or any of the myriad of other things that will help determine success or failure with women should not be allowed to breed!!!

Women who don't have intelligence, discipline, ambitions, the ability to make themselves sexually appealing to a high quality male or to earn the money that they want to live the life they desire should not be allowed to breed!!!

Its eliminating the shallow end of the gene pool. Its making sure that the next generation is stronger than this one so that it can flourish. There is nothing wrong with standards. As a matter of fact I'm almost 100% certain that the world, men, women and every institution we have needs a good solid raising of its standards. We are letting entirely too many fat, stupid, useless, lazy pieces of shit have kids.

Okay, now I'm getting off topic. But truthfully, I think hypergamy is just a awful sounding name for women having standards for men. A woman doesn't want a fat ass, she should be ashamed of herself. A man doesn't want a fat ass and he should be burned at the stake for being sexist. A woman wants a rich guy and she's a gold digger...maybe she's just using her head. The idea goes both ways and if you listen to the internet you'd think male-female relationships are in a state of complete and utter clusterfuckery.

I don't think so. As opposed to hating the game, I think men as well as women should concentrate on being better at it. So people, if the opposite sex isn't that into you, or the caliber of the opposite sex that you're getting isn't in tune with what you want, don't bitch. Play the game better. Get into better shape. Make more money. Get smarter. Get more interesting. We all know what the opposite sex is attracted to, its not a state secret. Make yourself more like that.

Get better. Get a better mate. Have better children. Level up the world. Its the one thing you can do on a microscale that will butterfly effect its way out into the generations and raise the standards of the whole human race.

Stop whining about the standards. Raise yourself to meet, and even better exceed the standards.

What Things Are Truly Under My Control...

Not a whole helluva lot really. There's a few things to be sure, but all in all if you really take a deep, hard look at life there isn't a whole lot of things that are under your control.

Other people: forget it. You've got a better chance of reversing the flow of blood in your veins than you do of controlling other people. Not to mention, if you try, they'll simply do whatever they can to make your life difficult.

Politics, I'm pretty sure that the politicians have no clue what the hell is going on, much less how to control it.

The weather, good luck with that. I'm pretty sure that every place on earth says the exact same thing about the weather in their locale. If you don't like it, wait 10 minutes, it'll change.

The only thing you can control is your mind. Your reactions. How things affect you. Do they knock you off your track, or do they not even register? What else can you control? Your actions. Sure you can control your actions, but then the world gets to react to your actions, and you can react to those actions and on and on. So who is really driving that bus?

Your attitude and your reactions. Your thoughts and emotions. These are the only things I can think of that I can control. Now, can I do it? I certainly think so, but I'm not arrogant enough to claim that I have complete dominion over my mind. How can I make it so?

How DId I Get Here...

Supposed to keep thought records. I like having something to do. Makes me feel useful, or at least like I'm actively participating in my own reconstruction.

How have I been thinking this week. This week things have made me laugh. A woman matched with me on bumble. I wasn't actively looking but I must've swiped her a while ago. She was cute, fun to talk to, and had a great rack.

So I pursued. I know its wrong. But it kept me busy while the wife was ill. For like the 900th time this month. Anyway, she found out I've got 2 little kids and she was gone. Poof.

I found that hilarious. I'm learning all sorts of fun stuff. Like women are just as shallow and selfish as dudes. Okay, it stung a bit, but it was also funny. Not to mention if I took seriously all the times I've been stung I wouldn't be doing much but whining.

Okay, other than that I'm dealing with her illness. Stomach problem, only real symptom is pain and a lot of sleep. So as far as I can tell there's no real advantage to her and that being the case she must be telling the truth. (How's that for some paranoia)

And, the big one just threw up all over the place. So that's dominating my thoughts now. So this is done. LOL

How Does One Take Control...

I've been reading a whole lot of crazy shit lately. I've been reading about the manosphere, which is a real thing. I've been reading about hypergamy, which is a females tendency to discard a mate when a better one comes along. I've been reading about alpha males, which I'm not entirely sure is a real thing.

Now needless to say, these are pretty biased opinions and points of view for me to be reading while I'm in the middle of a life altering situation with my wife. So could I be sabotaging myself and us. I absolutely could be. I don't think so but its possible.

I've got two different slants on the whole thing. 1. Game on, all the pussy you could get. 2. Bounce, she's just opening the door so she can look for something better guilt free.

I have a tendency...nay a full blow pathology, where I will always think the worst of people and when it comes to my wife that can get me into trouble. Mostly because I'm rarely right. Most people will always do whatever benefits them the most. The only thing you have to figure out is if they are thinking short, medium or long term. What are their goals. That's the trick is figuring that out. Once you do you can make accurate assumptions about their actions.

Without that you run into pretty simple problems, like the fact that what is good in the short term is probably not good for the medium or long term and any other combination thereof. So, they're thinking long term and you act on the assumption of short term thinking and you lose.

Losing is exactly what you want to avoid. Let's get Steven Covey in here. Let's think win/win.

She wins, and so do I. The kids win, the family wins. Hell even the dogs win. Is there somehow this could look that would deliver that kind of a situation?

That's next in line to figure out.