Corrupted Peace

As I write this post, massive uncertainty shrouds the United States territory of Puerto Rico. The people, from whom we naively believe government is derived, are sick of their corrupt government in ways I will never understand, much less be able to describe. The figureheads of the corrupt rule have drawn lines in the sand, and it appears the boiling point is quickly coming into view. With all of this in mind, we still want to believe that power comes from the people. I fear by the end of the week, we’ll see it comes from who has the most guns. The calm before the storm is that of living under a corrupted peace.

Many naively believe that violence is not an answer. On the contrary, violence may not be the best answer, but it is certainly an answer. However, it’s an answer that is only available to those with the power. To call for violence is to call for one’s own execution, so we retreat to the narrative that peaceful protest and disruption will cause change. It’s sad to say, but this approach has worse odds than any gambler would be willing to take.

By the time my readers digest this post, the deed may have been done. I hope for the best for the people of Puerto Rico, but I suspect the worst beckons. Power is a privilege. In government, many who become corrupt use the notion of “power” to imply that they were conferred special rights by a willing mass. However, it’s all just a show. The true sense of their power comes from their guns, bombs, gas, and threats of imprisonment. The people of Puerto Rico may be on the precipice of tasting such power themselves. Change will come, simply due to entropy, but those calling for change may very well have to pay the price of admission to get there. Godspeed.

The Blood of Belief, The Breath of Action

Morality is a boring subject. It’s often a tug o’ war between two opposing sides in which the “best” outcome or policy lies somewhere else. The Borderline cognitions that drive today’s discourse only cement the idea that we’ll always be poles apart and at each other’s throats. Yawn. Passion is a far more interesting, and immeasurable, construct. Take out the concept of morality and leave everything at pure will, and you will see that mankind is capable of the most astounding things. However, it seems that we are losing the light on this front.

The truth is that most are simply parrots that squawk what they have heard and nothing further. Original thought is lacking. SJWs spew hate from one end of the spectrum while absorbing the reciprocal noise from the other end. Where are those that go beyond and truly fight for what they believe in while offering new thought to a idea-parched world? I know that I would be on the receiving end of the vitriol of many of these groups, say Neo-Nazis or Antifa for instance, but at the same time, it’s hard to deny that they bring a passion for changing the world in the flawed ways that they operate under.

Give me your passion. Show me what makes you tick. Take the lead role and leave the extras behind. Let the spotlight shine on you as you go forth and bleed for that which you believe in. I don’t care where on the spectrum of morality you lie, as I simply must know that there are those in this world that are more than living husks. What makes you breathe? What makes you speak? Most importantly, what makes you act?

Becoming too Busy to Die

With cautious optimism, I feel the energy that was once flow through me once more. If you would have asked me a year or two ago where my thoughts lied, I would have said that I was done with everything psychic in nature and was ready to move on with life. I would have answered that all was under control and all was well enough. Everything still is in my control, but I have reached critical mass where the eternal nothingness of everything has forced me not to evolve but to evert into a new position on the plane of all things. Psychopathy may still be in my bones, but it is now appreciated, though laser-focused in its use, and I have shed all labels. I may refer to psychopathy by name in the future, but really there is only one focus now: my flavor of “crazy” in this world gone mad.

The truth is, I am seeking escape from the mindfucking void of it all. I’m tired up dropping thousands at casinos, winning thousands at the same, and not feeling a thing good, bad, or otherwise. I’m exhausted from the mundane. It is time to rekindle a love for life or the best approximation I am capable of. This requires a new focus and hyper determination. I don’t know where this road is going, but the fact that I can see curves ahead is tantalizing enough.

Get in the car; we’re going for a ride.

A Tale of Two Masks: Re-Revisited

This December will mark the 5-year anniversary of putting my book out for the world to read. A lot has changed since then. While I do maintain that the experiences in the book are 100% accurate up to the limits of memory, I also feel that some facets of my personality have receded to the point of vanishing. While I was once a proponent of therapy, I am no longer; the costs of guided exploration outweigh the benefits. I can only wonder what correlation exists between symptomatic outbursts and the presence of a professional that should be engaged in curbing such. In my case, having quit therapy two years ago, I have achieved greater realization and stability without my former therapist’s assistance than I ever did with.

If I must choose diagnoses or labels that pertain these days, I would say that we got it right with the proclamation of psychopathy. While I am nowhere near the force of destruction of my teens and 20s, I still have limited goals, self-control, and an insatiable need for stimulation that will never be met. If the PCL-R were administered today, I probably would no longer register as psychopathic, but as serving as a historical marker in my life, I do believe it was correct for the story up to that fateful day in 2013.

What I question most is the diagnosis of BPD (Borderline Personality Disorder). I did have great problems with black and white thinking and a terrible fear of abandonment, but life goes on and I’ve learned to accept the greyscale of life and the finality of decisions. BPD is supposedly able to be mitigated, but at the same time, I did not put in any effort in subsiding those destructive impulses and cognitions. Simply and frankly put, by removing therapy – the constant reminder of action and reaction – from my life, the symptoms more or less cleared up on their own. Unlike psychopathy, whose influence can extend far beyond the damage inflicted on others, BPD is measured almost entirely on the damage dealt to the self and everyone else. It’s too coincidental that those forces dissipated almost immediately upon exiting therapy, and I do believe my former therapist ‘got it wrong.’

I don’t think any of this changes the power of the words I put forth five years ago. The story up to that point was consistent for the most part, although exacerbated under the “care” of my therapist. If we remove that small slice of life when I was in therapy, the story is mostly unchanged. However, I do think that inconsistencies found since then need to be examined and deconstructed.

The conclusion of this will be revealed later this week. There is only one possible ending for this current arc, and it is the glorious realization that labels mean positively nothing to those who transcend.

Stay Tuned

I’ll have an announcement later this week.

In the meantime, I have checked my email (finally) and have followed up with most everyone that sent me an inquiry over the past few months. I will try to be better when it comes to checking email on a semi-regular basis.