30 Days To X

The days keep changing, will you?

Your emotions and you

By 1 Comment

“Music is the shorthand of emotion.”

– Leo Tolstoy

While you shouldn’t be a slave to your emotions, you don’t need to act detached and stoic either. Constantly pretending like you don’t care is just as needy as constantly seeking validation from others. False confidence is just insecurity by another name.

Being arrogant, putting on your best Don Draper impersonation, and continually reaffirming your belief that “feelings are gay;” is a weakness. Every guy I know who’s feigned aloofness for an extended period of time has melted down because of it. Tucker Max, patron saint of not giving a f*ck, even got burnt out and settled down.

College Freshman
Let this be a lesson.

Men who rely on faux bravado are no different than the “nice guys” they chastise. The archetypal “nice guy” is a dude who’s emotional insecurity causes him to pretend that he’s amiable, in hopes that doling out compliments will earn him something in return. He’s the office suck up, the orbiter of every attractive girl, the passive aggressive enemy.

Likewise, the “withdrawn” guy is equally insecure. He pretends not to take interest in what others think, least they criticize and reject. God forbid he ever show his feelings, compliment a girl, or care about anything.

True confidence isn’t an act. It doesn’t come from adopting someone else’s identity. Exposing the world to you’re real self, not some Michael Crea or Patrick Bateman knock-off, isn’t easy. In fact, it’s one of the hardest things you can do. You’ll need balls of steel to walk your own path and be comfortable in your own skin. And that’s why true confidence can only be achieved once you stop pretending and start being sincere.

Drugged out

By 15 Comments

“Now let’s get medicated.”

– Wiz Khalifa, Medicated

Everyone is on drugs. Not the fun ones, like coke or molly. Not the inspirational ones either, no LSD and no DMT. They’re on the lame ones. The pills that get you through the day. Make your life bearable enough that you don’t wind up hanging from the rafters. That would be a disappointment, eHow articles are a pain to follow. You’re poor knotsmanship keeps you alive. Someone would find you. Then it’s back to the doctor’s office to get your dosage upped.

This Is Your Brain On Drugs
They aren’t on these.

At work there was a discussion about what medications everyone is on. As it turns out, I’m one of the only people not taking some form of prescription anti-depressant or behavior modifier. I’m not really too concerned about adults choosing to live in a state of permanent high. However, I was shocked to learn that most of their children are on similar prescriptions.

There was a lively conversation about how various substances were affecting some of the kids sleep patterns, appetites, and attention spans. At this point I was sure that one sane adult would say, “stop feeding your children narcotics.” This never occurred. Instead someone chimed in “get a prescription for [whatever], it’ll solve that too.” I couldn’t believe it.

These kids were all in grade school. Their mental afflictions, acting child like. Punching others on the playground. Not paying attention in class. Being loud and obnoxious. Arguing. Everything they suffered from could have been cured with a family discussion and stern lecture. Instead they’ve been lobotomized by mass-produced chemical concoctions, depriving them of a human experience.

When it comes to solving problems there are two paths. The easy route and the hard one. In theory they both lead to the same destination. At the end of the day sedated children and well disciplined children will both stay out of trouble. Only one will do so through free will, while the other does so because his mind has been medically suppressed.

I’d rather be miserable in my own mind than complacently living in a drug induced fantasy.

Where trolls come from

By 6 Comments

“Certainly it constitutes bad news when the people who agree with you are buggier than batsh*t.”

– Philip K. Dick

Since the war on trollerism seems to be a trendy topic, I’ve decided to cash in and give my two cents on the issue. Since back in March, when a gentleman decided to inform me that I was “f*cking gay,” I’ve been banning people from commenting.*

Early on I set up a sort of troll forecasting center. I’d make a note of both the type of post and the number of trolls it drew in. According to my data, the vast majority of perpetrators were attracted to my instructional articles. Correlating with this, the most common troll type is the denier troll. These guys leave comments such as “fraud” and “Tim Ferriss clone,” whenever I explain how I to do something.

After some careful contemplation, I’ve formed a theory as to where trolls come from and what makes the operate. My belief is that trolls aren’t as intentionally malicious, they’re simply mentally handicapped. Specifically, they suffer from varying degrees of Cognative Dissonance.

In the past I had always believed that haters were formed through a combination of jealousy and poor information. The guys who just stumbled on something so profound that their minds couldn’t wrap around it. Denial and outrage their natural responses. Now I’m certain that trolls understand the concept, it’s the execution they are incapable of. They tried, failed, and their fragile egos differed the blame elsewhere.

While I don’t want to be mean or insult a guy for trying, the following video contains all the ingredients for a future troll:

While the guy in this video “understands” the basic concepts for picking up girls, he’s completely oblivious as to his appearance. As long as he’s morbidly obese, poorly dressed, and duct taping a camera to his head; he’ll come off as a creepy rapist. Within a few months of having “stranger danger” shouted at him, he’ll give up. Burnt out and frustrated, he’ll spend his free time plastering “The Game Is A Lie!” on every blog he can find.

In the past trolls would make me angry. I’d grumble and complain as I cleaned up their spew of negative comments. Now I actually feel somewhat sorry fr them.

* Though it might seem “unfair,” this is my site. I pay to own it. Everyone else is my guest. If you want to criticize the host don’t expect to come back. Also, anyone with legitimate criticism or commentary can have their say. There are numerous posts where you can find readers who disagreed with me.

Wisdom from a party girl

By 6 Comments

“If God invented anything better than drunk sex with a hot girl, he kept it to himself.”

– Tucker Max

Every time I try and meditate I end up thinking about sex. It never fails. People assume I’m being introspective. In reality I’m just fantasizing about girls I’ve swooped.

Over the weekend I tried, once again, to properly meditate. It almost worked. I ended up revisiting one of wildest nights of my life and I pulled a lesson from it.

Writing under my real name and, occasionally, having my family members browse the site means that I’m going to keep the details as vague as possible. If you’re looking for a graphic sex story you’ll need to look elsewhere.

As fate would have it, I was in the same location at the same time as the biggest attention seeking party girl to ever exist. She made out with her female friend while a herd of neck beards watched. She flashed the bartender in hopes of getting free drinks. After a candid conversation about sex, she gave me a lap dance to “Rack City.” At closing time we left together.

Later we were talking. During this time I learned two things: she was almost a decade older than me* and her only ambition was to party forever. After getting over the immediate shock of how old this girl was, I inquired further about her goals.

Poker Face
My reaction to her age.

To paraphrase, she replied with something along the lines of “guys are more than happy to pay for my stuff, plus I’ll never get old.”

My meditation skills are improving. As I reflected on her words my mind took this concept of “I’ll never get old” and ran with it.

Time flies at an exponential rate, yet we rarely notice this. Being stuck in traffic for an hour feels like forever. Having ten years slip by feels like nothing. Early in the morning, when my mind is still foggy, I briefly forget I’m a grown man. For 30 seconds I’m 12 again, going downstairs to eat pancakes and watch TV.

The last two years feel like the last two days. When I was 18, turning 21 seemed like it was eternity away. Now it’s only a few short months.

“They” get old, we don’t. There’s no rush, we can get to it later. Tomorrow. Next year. Someday. We have all the time in the world. Until the very last second before we die.

* This story occurred while “Rack City” was still a club banger. I’m only 20 now. You do the math.

You are not a sociopath

By Leave a Comment

“I might talk about killing people, but that doesn’t mean I do it.”

– Eminem

Every keyboard jockey makes the same three claims: they’re hung like a moose, the coolest person ever, and a “give no f*cks” sociopath.

They aren’t.

How to Live with a Huge Penis
One book I’ll never have to read.

An actual sociopath wouldn’t be bragging to his friends, virtual or otherwise, about his antisocial tendencies. Some dude who’s completely insane isn’t going to question why voices in his head have told him to murder people. He’s just going to assume that’s what needed to be done. He was right, it was everyone else who was crazy.

Secondly, actual sociopaths aren’t social. Ted Kaczynski lived in a remote cabin by himself. He didn’t go out on Friday night to swap stories with his bros. Instead he sat inside, building bombs and living in a space smaller than my bedroom.

Even if the Internet had existed during his time, I highly doubt Kaczynski would have been using it to brag on forums about how “cold” he was.

If you have friends and can socialize like a normal person, you are not a sociopath. Even if you think most people are boring and have a hard time relating to what’s “normal,” you are not a sociopath. You might be lonely, disillusioned, alienated, or filled with angst; but you are not a sociopath.