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.