Blackfish64

Hi Steven, Thanks for sharing. Great stuff. Never read any Harry Browne. I should get to that one of these days. I have read Nathaniel Branden many times since the late 1990s. I got my sentence completion exercises from him, too. As I said, I use the computer mostly. When using paper, I prefer to write in pencil, in a bound book with numbered pages. Notebooks are too flimsy. Since I started the non-dominant handwriting, I have been using a lot more pencil and paper.

I am none of what you describe. What you are saying is true for some people however. "Something must take place of a broken true self" is the undeniable truth and reality. You are suggesting that one of the things that can replace it is neurosis. You are also suggesting that whatever replaces it is not and can never be the true self, but something else, some artificial slapping together of parts of the true self to come up with some artificial workable, acceptable solution. Again, I would agree with you. I do not in fact mean to suggest that nothing can be done, to have others make way for me, or for others to come along and be ill with me. Those are your words, not mine. I don't engage in any consciously destructive behavior, unless of course it is in self defense. If a robber tries to rob me, I will be more than happy to pull his shoulder out of the socket. I will not greet him with a hug. On the other hand, if a child who loves me wants to give me a hug, I will not greet him by separating his limbs from his body. Everyone has the capacity for error and destruction. Everyone has the capacity to fail. The proper thing to do is to put all of these things in their proper context. People who are broken cannot do these things. That is why we call them broken. If I were truly broken and beyond repair, I certainly wouldn't be here reflecting and looking for potential answers to my problems. I simply would not know or care. To suggest that happy, healthy, unbroken people are beyond question and have all the answers is also ludicrous. In fact sometimes they know nothing at all. Sometimes they have no frame of reference. Just as the truly broken, wrecked individual does not seek answers or therapy, nor do the healthy. Why would they? There's nothing wrong with them. Most of them simply take their health and their happiness for granted and figure that's the way life is. Just as the broken think that a terrible life is just the way it is and take it for granted. I think neither way. I think that life just is. And I happen to think that life is great, even though I am broken, and even though I can't really fix it, can't fix everything. The sad thing about a healthy person who takes his health and happiness for granted, has not the means nor the frame of reference nor the capacity to handle a tragedy when/if one strikes. A broken person has had many tragedies, perhaps, and he goes into denial and lets those tragedies twist him and wreck him more, or he learns that tragedy can simply be a part of the life experience sometimes and it must be dealt with. I've seen both the perfectly healthy and the broken fall apart at the slightest provocation. I try to refrain from falling apart at any provocation. So, in a sense, I am pretty freakin' far from broken, and a lot better off than even a lot of healthy people who go to water over a hangnail. In another sense, I can be a real mess at times, but even so, I don't take it out on others, I don't look to make others suffer for my misery. I try to figure out what's going on with me, correct it, and move on. There are also healthy people who exploit the broken people. "Oh! You poor dear, you're broken? No problem! I'm healthy and happy, so just come to my therapy sessions and get yourself fixed! I'll show you how it's done!" They fix nothing. But that does not matter. They still get paid, they would not say hello to you if they saw you in public with their circle of friends, and they hope you keep coming and writing out those checks. It's the same for the martial arts instructors who know absolutely nothing about self-sefense/self-protection, but want and need for you to think they do. It keeps their dojo going and keeps them in a BMW. They tell you that you really can't know anything about self-protection until you've been in it for a few years. And what if something should happen, say, I should get jumped out in the dark parking lot tonight on the way out of class, what advice would you have to give me on that very real possibility taking place, as it often does? No answer. Of course. Because he has no answer. It's not that he doesn't want to give it to you, it's that he just doesn't have it to give. He's broken, too. He's set himself up for failure. And if you keep doing what he says, why, you'll fail, too, when/if the time comes. All this nonsense and wasted time, when the real workable answer is actually simple and easy to obtain, and the goods are easy to acquire. I once had a conversation with a man, a new friend, to whom I made the mistake of talking about my childhood. I simply stated facts about what had happened to me. He was disgusted, not with what had happened to me, but with me. He would have none of it. He stood up out of his chair and looked down at me, "You know, you people just make this shit up to get sympathy and to bully people into doing what you want. You're a bully. That's all you are. You are incompetent and you can't compete with the rest of the world, so you try to drag eveyone else down into your garbage and bullshit, secretly hoping that everyone will slow down and make a path for you to get by easier than the rest of us. That's all this is, bullying. Well, I'm not going to stand for it and I'm not going to listen to it. Good riddance." While I don't agree with him, that's not in fact what I was trying to do with our time together, he does make a certain point. Be careful who you talk to about this stuff. Then there are people who appear healthy and happy but aren't. One of my favorite authors, Ayn Rand, was like this. She died miserable, unhappy, unhealthy, never quite able to get it togeher in her personal life. She could and would rationalize, philosophize, deny her way into and out of anything she desired. Poor thing. She spent a great deal of her adult life on drugs, denial, and smoking, utterly destroying her health. She took on an affair with a man half her age and told her husband to sit down and shut up about it, which he did, then proceeded to drink himself to death in a closet. While engaged in these personal and professional deceptions and denials, with her young partner in crime also engaged in his own personal deceptions, denials and recklessness, she loses him, denies it all, of course, and the rest is history. Yes, at least I am honest with myself. As for the rest of the world, well, I do have my suspicions. And they are well-founded. This is not to say that there aren't truly good and wonderful people in the world, of course. There are. I know some of them and protect them fiercely. They would do the same for me. As I said, I am rather happy and content to have finally learned that there are somethings I can't fix, can't have, can't do. I have been wasting a lot of time trying to fix the unfixable. I don't have to do it anymore. I was beating a dead horse. I can use that time and energy in doing something more productive and worth my precious while.

You feel pathetic about being a victim? Then the only choice here is to choose not to be a victim. Don't be a victim. Don't feel sorry for yourself. Don't look for empathy. End it. Don't be a victim. She has no right, privilege, or cause to be doing what she is doing. Moral justification for using the State? Isn't the proper function of government to protect innocents from from invaders and criminals? Sbe is obviously a criminal. She has broken the law. She has committed battery on you. Just because she hasn't physically hurt you-yet-does not mean that she can't or that she won't. This needs to stop, my friend, get it? Someone even so much as tries to put their hand to me like she is doing to you and you can bet your ass she's going down! One way or another! I'm not putting up with her stuff for one single minute. The End Put everything you can remember to time and to date and to notepad. Take it to the local station and the campus police and file a report on her. Tell them you aren't too concerned just yet, but in case this turns into something you would like to have it noted. Corroborate, communicate, collaborate with others who are witnesses and others she is bullying. Shut this bitch down. Take the attitude that, whatever happens, you are not someone who is going to be messed with and pushed around. Send people like this fool that message. Whether she understands it or not is not your concern. That she keeps her bloody hands to herself is your concern. After that, there's nothing to be concerned about, is there? She wants to serve up her little fisfties and have you enjoy them, too, but she does not want to take any herself. Well, sorry, little girl, but the world dont't work that way.

When you are a broken person and cannot be fixed, as I am, the only thing left to do is patch things up as best one can and move on from there, bearing the scars and making the most of it along the way. Now, it may sound derogatory to some, but that is not so. There are those things which I can see which the 'unbroken' cannot and vice-verse. I learn from them and they learn from me. I think of it as the deaf or blind man who's other senses become strengthened and heightened and make up for the loss, so that, in a sense, he has not lost at all. Happy, whole, healthy people cannot see in the dark and are scared of it. Many broken people live in the dark and know there is nothing to fear, laughing at the scared and the weak and the stupid. Whole people laugh at the broken people who are afraid of trust and love and light. It's like the ongoing battle between western medicine and eastern medicine. Everyone sees it as one way or the other. A few smart ones see that both schools of thought have a great deal to offer. The contradictions are amazing. The evil and meanness in the world rarely comes from broken people who are willing to work with their limitations, but from whole, happy, healthy, good people who think they can do no wrong.

I had to start this thread on journaling because I have been doing it for a long time and want to expand my knowledge on the subject, and improve my experience, and perhaps even professionalize myself in journaling. I hope everyone who journals jumps on this thread and pays forward their two cents on the matter. Any little thing is valuable and welcome. If you have something to share, please do so. I started out journaling when I was eighteen, in 1982, and thought I had invented something new and exciting. Most everything I did up to around the year 1998 was burned or thrown in the trash. From 1998 on, I have a lot of material, most of it digital. I bought my first computer in 1998 and immediately put my typewriter and notebooks away and went 100% digital. I journal and write all over the place. My main journal is an old laptop computer that a friend of mine was going to throw in the trash. He said it was old and giving him too many problems. I took it from him, wiped Windows 7 off it, loaded Puppy Linux on it, and it has been running like a clock ever since. Nothing at all wrong with this machine. I never connect this computer to the Internet. The only thing I do on it is journal and a few other writing projects. This is my preferred method of journaling. Another unique tool I have found was introduced to me in the work of John Bradshaw: non-dominant handwriting. I started out writing with my left hand as a child, but was forced to switch to my left hand. I am amazed at how quickly I was able to pick up writing with my left hand and how well I do it. It feels quite natural, and different thoughts come to me than would if I were writing with my dominant hand. So, now the non-dominant handwriting is an integral part of my journaling. I have started a notebook and a folder for keeping all of these little non-dominant handwritten notes. I am absolutely delighted. I reread my journal from the previous day in the morning when I start writing. I correct all the spelling and read it through, adding whatever I need to add, taking out whatever makes no sense or is unnecessary, etc. Some of the material I write helps a great deal. Sometimes there are great breakthroughs and experiences. Some of the material is useless. The bottom line on journaling, the main reason I do it, is that I love it. What are your experiences, advice, teachings on journaling?

I had a major breakthrough this week, realizing that I am broken and cannot be fixed. What wonderful news. I can now move on and be done with a lot of things in my life. In the past, I thought that I could not change due to some weakness or lack of willingness on my part. Wrong. I have simply been trying to fix something in me that is beyond repair. Whew! What a relief! I'm clamping off the gushing leak and can move on and do something else with that part of my time now. What's the matter with your health? Do mean physical or mental health, or both?

Your job sounds totally cool! I would love to do a job like that! All my computers are older than the hills and I frequently mess with them only because I find it fascinating. I run minimalist Linux distros on old machines that people give me because they were going to throw them away! Throw them away? Please, no! I take them over and run them on Linux for a few more years, until they croak. Actually, I take that back... they stop croaking after I start them up again running Linux. Puppy Linux RULES! My fav! Yep, it's a good thing you stopped drinking. I did that for a few years, too. Though I never did like drinking. Puts me out of control and I can't remember stuff! I hate that! Marijuana is my drug of choice. But I don't do that anymore either. It's good to be drug free. Enjoy the boards! Lots of cool stuff here! Later!

08.11.2014 08:59:47: Last night's dream was macabre. The dream was scary, but I liked it. The dream was me, and I liked it. The dream had me in an uncomfortable position, but I liked it. I'm used to that sort of thing. It keeps me on my toes. In last night's dream I found myself in the ocean, floating on a tiny skiff. The skiff was sinking and there was nothing I could do about it. There were sharks and other big fish in the water investigating me, swimming all around, hoping for a meal. The skiff finally sank into the water and to the bottom of the ocean, and then the sharks were all around me. I was frightened to death, waiting for the first bite, the first chunk out of my leg, or to look and see an arm missing all of a sudden, but it didn't come. I stayed calm and moved slowly in the water, acted like I didn't care one bit about the danger surrounding me, and the animals in the water left me alone. I came to a thick weed bed, full of other strange creatures, plants and objects. Beyond that I could finally see the shore. I felt a great relief. I realized I would have to wade through the weed bed to get there, but that would be just fine by me. Long before I reached shore, somewhere in about the middle of the weed bed, I was pleasantly surprised to have waded into the far end of a dock made of concrete and steel. I happily, greedily took hold of the steel support beams and pulled myself up and out of the ocean to plant my feet on the solid decking. From here, I took stock of my situation. I was barefoot, no underwear, and dressed in nothing more than a ragged T-shirt and ragged shorts. I had no idea where I was. But in spite of all that, it was warm outside, and I was not weak, sick or injured. No problem. I can take it from here. I walked forward confidently the entire length of the structure. As I came to the very end and was only a few yards away from stepping onto the earth and being on my way, it happened that there were two giant snakes coiled and sleeping on the end of the dock. The one on my left was a Monocled Cobra, the biggest I had ever seen. I paused for a moment and noted the size, colors, and markings on the skin of this beast. I had never seen anything like it. I was quite amazed. The one on my right was a constrictor, a giant, powerful Anaconda. My steps had awoken the snakes and all three of us were startled by each other of a sudden. I stopped and stood still, wanting to let the animals know that I meant no harm, that I merely wished to pass by them and move on. There was no other way around them. They seemed to be calm at first. It seemed they were going to let me pass. But then the two took notice of each other and threw themselves together, locking into a vicious life and death struggle. I thought this would be a good time to run past them and make my escape, but just as I started forward, the battling reptiles separated and returned to their respective sides of the dock. Now, the cobra was riled and had been injured in the fight, and when he retreated to his spot he turned his attention toward me, even though I stood still and posed no threat to him. Then he advanced on me rapidly, without warning, surprising me. Once in front of me, he struck at my legs, faster than lightning, but I dodged him and wasted his effort. As he recoiled, I came forward and pounced on him, taking his body into my right hand about a foot behind his head in a death grip. I raised him high into the air and came back down to earth with all my bodyweight and strength, smashing his head against the concrete, once, twice, three times in rapid succession. The first blow injured and stunned him. The second blow killed him. The third blow split his dead skull into several pieces. I dropped the corpse on the concrete and turned to face the constrictor, or to walk past him in peace, whichever he preferred. But the constrictor was gone. He was traveling through the weeds away from me at a high rate of speed. He would not return. I left the dock and pressed on until I came to a ramshackle old house that was not far away. There appeared to be someone living there and I went to the place to see what I could see and find what I could find. I walked around the house and took in a good look and made mental notes. I walked around it in plain view, careful to see and to let myself be seen. There was definitely someone living there. Every room inside the house was stacked with every manner of sundry item. There were tools of all kinds, clothing, shoes, boxes full of canned foods, and just about anything else one could think of. The place looked like a dump, but it became clear to me this shoddy appearance was intended to keep looters and moochers out and away from this wonderful cache. The aisles between the goods at the place were clean and clear, indicating someone regularly walked through and kept an eye on things. I was impressed. I was also in rags, hungry, destitute, and vulnerable, and wanted to meet with the owner and procure some kind of exchange that would get me some of these goods. I hoped to improve my condition before moving on. I envisioned myself first in a hot shower, then with a new pair of socks and shoes, new clean clothes and underwear, a belly full of food, a new backpack full of food, a new kerchief, a new pocketknife, a new cap, and a handful of bills and change. It was a beautiful, satisfying dream within a dream. It was delightful. I smiled. Finally, a tall, skinny, very young man appeared walking through one of the aisles between the house and the garage. He knew I was there, but pretended not to notice me. He was wearing a grimy old T-shirt, shorts, and tennis shoes. He had shoulder length, dirty blonde hair. His face was smeared with all manner of grime and grease. A pair of welding googles were strapped to his forehead. I sensed that he was nervous and afraid of me. I also sensed that he wasn't very bright. It was plain to see that himself, his place, and everything in it was utterly defenseless. I knew that I could literally pick up and carry out of the place whatever I wanted and do so completely uncontested. The young man would simply stand there and pretend it wasn't happening. He stopped toward the end of one of the aisles, picked up an acetylene torch, lit it, and was about to start work when I interrupted him, "Hello there," I smiled, "can a guy maybe find a little work around here in exchange for some of your fine goods?" He turned off the torch, pulled the welding goggles away from his eyes, perched them back onto the white spot on his forehead, and spoke to me cheerfully, "Yeah, I could put you to work for a while. I need a few things done around here that I don't want to do and don't have time for. I will show you what needs doing and you can decide if you want to do it or not. Up to you. When you're done, I will give you all you want, all you can carry on your way out of here, including some cash. Sound good?" At that, the youngster picked up the torch, lit it again, pulled his goggles back down over his eyes and went to work. "Yeah, sounds great!" I stood for a moment and relished the thought of my delightful dream about to come true. Then I turned my attention back to the young man and watched his work for a moment. I realized he had no idea what he was doing with that torch. All of his effort was just wasted time and materials. But I didn't care. So long as I could get my assignment and get my goods, he could do as he pleased with his own. If later he wanted me to show him a few tricks I would be more than happy to do so. Then I awoke.

Also pretty much anything, especially his YouTube videos, by Sam Vaknin are monster good for learning about narcissism.

Why is police involvement out of the question? You must document everything. Everything she says, everything she does. Document everything. Time, place, what she was wearing, who else was present, if she used a weapon or open hand or closed fist. Everything. Yes, everything. If it isn't written down-it didn't happen. The log is your record of everything should you need to deal with the police or the courts. I would immediately get a new notebook and set it aside just for the purpose of recording everything she does. Also use your smartphone to get video and pictures if you can. You have a right to citizen's arrest, camera or no camera. Witnesses will be essential, if their cooperation can be gotten. But when the police arrive to make the arrest, you will need be prepared to take it all the way. Once they initiate the arrest, there is no backing out of it. And if you do, you will be the one getting arrested. Check the laws in your state. Check your local laws. Calling the bully out is good whenever possible. The last thing bullies want is an audience, to be exposed for what they really are. How do you deal with them? You don't deal with them. You need to get away from them and stay away from them. If she shows up and wants your bar stool, be the coward, get up, give it to her, and get away. Write it down. She needs to be stopped. You need to find a way to do this, or you might end up really hurt, or worse.

Am not so hot on the idea of no contact and driving people away from my life. Of course, there are times when no contact is absolutely necessary. That cannot be denied. And it is most advisable in some cases. But I am hotter on the idea of making myself stronger and more knowledgeable and going ahead and making my changes in my life the way I want them, and if somebody doesn't like it, well, that's just too bad. They can decide for themselves if they want to stick around, if they like the new me, if they want to deal with it. Sometimes when you make a change in your life, you become useless to some other people in your life and they just go away. For example, long ago I was weak and let people push me around all the time. When I started pushing back, or simply telling people who once pushed me around that they weren't going to be allowed to do it anymore, the people who pushed me around no longer had any use for me and left me alone, or they were scared of me and left me alone. Either way I win. I didn't ask them to push me around in the first place, nor did I ask them to be afraid of me. they chose of their own free will to be foolish and this is where it got them. Pull the little dog's tail one too many times... eventually he's going to turn around and bite you. Another example, in the case of the narcissistic boss, I'm not going to hide in a corner and cry about his maltreatment of me; he and I are going to be down in human resources in front of a panel hashing it out. Believe me, I'm going to straighten this guy out and enjoy my work and my life whether or not he likes it. Evil wins because good people stand by and do nothing, or they run away. I've never been any good at running. Again I won't rule out no contact or leaving a particular situation. Every situation is different. Be happy. Be healthy. Get up, get moving, and go get what you want.

I've never written about it myself, but if you run it in your search engine you can find hundreds of articles, videos, organizations, etc. https://www.google.com/search?client=ms-android-skt-kr&source=android-home&site=webhp&source=hp&ei=vcZaVPW4ONG4uAS24oGgAg&q=nordic+walking&oq=nordic+walking&gs_l=mobile-gws-hp.12..0l5.4748.9373.0.10686.16.15.1.9.9.0.221.2048.0j13j1.14.0....0...1c.1.58.mobile-gws-hp..1.15.972.3.zWtSgR3GjAs

Let's see... writes complete sentences and thoughts with extreme clarity, extremely well punctuated. Definitely not foggy, unfocused, or stupid. Obviously takes longer than a couple of seconds to put an excellent piece like this together. Definitely can stay focused. Definitely not empty-headed. Definitely driven enough to write this piece. That is the nature of depression. It doesn't want you to think there is a way out. But there is. There always is. There is a way in and a way out of anything. Writing is a great way to get that job done. I would keep it up, if I were you. You're extremely well focused, attentive, clear, full-headed, helpful, and enlightened. I was in a little depression, a little funk of my own as I made way to my computer and found your post. I am lifting out of it now. Thanks a lot! Just what I needed!

Yeah, this guy is great. Dr. Sam is great, too! http://www.drsam.tv/2014/02/11/beware-of-she-wolves/

Yes, follow the music! It's amazing how much certain songs mean in all areas of life. I have a journal specifically for following the music in my life. Every song, album, etc., that has affected me in any way... I write down the song, the artist, the date it was released, when I first heard it, and the event in my life to which I connect to that particular music. Music is everything! So glad I learned to play and to read music! As for dressing down. I did just that this morning. Not on purpose, but because I was in a bit of a hurry to complete a task. My wife is always pissing and moaning about the way I look. She can't stand me. She can't stand it when I wear a hat, even though the sun is blazing out-of-doors and I need cover, even though I am careful to wear a respectable looking hat that is spotlessly clean. I could walk out the door wearing a suit, and she wouldn't say something nice about my suit, rather she would complain and give me a dirty look that I wore it wrong or the tie was slightly crooked. I could give her a million dollars in cash this afternoon and she'd complain about the briefcase in which it was contained instead of thanking me for the million dollars. So, this morning, just because I wasn't in the mood to hear any of her nagging and complaining, I walked out the door in flip-flops (I hate flip-flops and only wear them in the hut), an old work T-shirt, and a pair of work pants with a paint stain on the right leg, the cuffs of which were dragging on the ground behind the flip-flops. She didn't say a word. It were as though she liked me that way. Very strange. I try hard to look my best and she does nothing but complain, but walk out the door looking like a pile of shit and she says nothing. Hmmmmmmm... Can you say, narcissist? Sure, I knew you could. "Oh, my, just look at me, how great I am! And look at him, my servant, my afterthought; well, we can't expect much from him, now, can we? Oh, dear. Oh, well." She needs a scapegoat. I wonder what she's going to do without me. I dress down also when I am just hanging around my hut, reading, etc. Sometimes wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts. I think the trick is to always look and feel my best whenever possible. Even if I am going on a sweaty, long, stick walk, a rugged hike in the wilderness, looking the part puts me in the mood and I do better. It makes me want to do a thing even more.

I always feel and think better when I dress well. Even at home, getting up in the morning and getting set to start reading and writing, I always dress for work. It sets my head straight for what I am about to start doing. Just as when I am going to paint a fence, I don't wear a suit, but an old T-shirt and work jeans, work boots, and even that I make it look as good as possible. Even doing dirty work, I do it better and feel better about doing it when I am dressed for it. If I look like crap, I feel like crap. I always look appropriate when going out in public; polo, slacks, shoes clean and polished, clean cap and sunglasses for protection from the sun. The sunglasses are also for people watching. Being a writer, I learn a great deal and write a great deal about people I see and meet. It's good practice, a good way to keep up the chops. It is always innappropriate to stare, so I need the sunglasses to keep people from knowing what I am looking at. I don't necessarily want people to take notice of me, but if they do, they might as well take away a good note.

Yes, he's great. I haven't gotten through all of his videos yet, but I mean to. Here's a film I've watched a few times that is just great. The ending is wonderful. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tw9ZQeViNrY

7 June 2014 I woke up from a dream in which I was playing my guitar to a mighty I IV V blues progression, and I was singing out loud: Ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! Ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! You can do what you wanna do, but ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! Ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! Ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! You can do what you wanna do, but ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! * When I woke up, I was still singing the song. I got out of bed and headed for the rest room for some relief. I was still singing while I was going. It woke up my wife. She got up and followed me and my song to the rest room. She thought I was sleep walking or had finally gone insane. When I was finally awake enough to realize what I was doing, I turned to look at her and sang, 'Ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! Ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! You can do what you wanna do, but ain't nobody gonna do what a pastor tells them to! I got back into bed, still singing. Then I started laughing. Then I fell back to sleep. I wish I would have had a guitar with me that night. That was a bad-ass jam.

Agreed. 100%. Narcissists would have no choice but to improve their behavior if it weren't for all the support they are given, for all the people who help them along, wittingly and/or unwittingly.

All people are good only because they have to be. If we don't build shelters, make clothing, plant crops and harvest them, among other good things we must do, we're finished. If the universe existed in which all I had to do was pluck whatever I needed for my survival out of thin air and I had to do nothing all day, I would choose to live in that universe, and proceed to do what I wanted to do all day, instead of doing "good" to help myself and others in my survival. Instead, I would lay around and dream all day long, write stories, play my guitar, and make fun with every pretty girl I could find. I'd have one hundred children or more. Life would be beautiful... if only we didn't have to spend so much of our time doing good. We have to do good. We must do good. Or we will perish. Doing good is essential to our survival. Sometimes doing evil is essential to our survival, too, as in self-defense, for example. We may have to maim or kill another human being in order to remain alive. The important thing is knowing what is going to give us maximum bang for our effort and sticking to it. Which is why, when posed the age old question, "Is man inherently good or inherently evil?" To which I answer, 'Man is inherently good and inherently evil both, and for good reason.' No, we don't have to live if we don't want to. But if we do, doing good is a must. Helping your fellow man of your own free will is a good thing. It's a good thing because it helps him help you. It helps both of us help ourselves. It gives you an opportunity to put another potential good person in your corner. It only makes good horse sense. I help the beggar with a sandwich and a five dollar bill because it gets him off my sidewalk and gets him raking leaves in my front yard instead of cluttering up the place with his misery. If he doesn't want to do good in exchange, I will send him somewhere else, off my block. Good riddance. In other words, I might have to do bad, to do evil, to be rude and condescending to him in order to make him go away, if that's what I want. Yes, I am good and do good only because I have to. Admittedly, proudly so. I am better at it than most people and they are often jealous of my generosity and my goodness and make fun of me for it. I give when I feel like it to whom I feel like it, and do it out of the goodness of my own mind and heart, and I don't feel one bit guilty for having done it or not done it. No one pressures me into feeling guilty for having done good -- or evil. If I've done something bad, or good, there was a reason for it. What reason? My reason. I broke the man's collar bone, rendering him helpless, then turned him over to government officers because I caught him in the act of raping the girl and I wanted the rape to stop. Some would argue that I didn't do a bad thing. But I did. Look again. Violence isn't a good thing. It isn't good when you do it, nor is it good when it's done to you. But we use violence as a tool to stop violence. In doing so, your mind changes, your biology changes, you become violent. You become not good. Therapy may be necessary to heal the wound I have inflicted upon myself. That is the other, terrible part about violence that no one ever talks about... the fact that doing it or it being done to you is equally damaging. Some people who have done violence for their own good have never recovered, and perpetuated the violence. They discover the tool, and refuse to put it down. It's too easy, so they have discovered. But some, like myself, understand what's happened and go back to being good, doing good, and staying that way. It's all up to you. It's your choice. Do good or not. Do good or do evil to save your own life or to get through life. It's our choice to make at any given moment in any given situation. Doing good has better, longer lasting benefits than doing evil. Doing good makes sense almost all the time. Doing evil makes no sense most of the time. Doing good is a long-term investment. Doing evil is, most of the time, at best, useless. Yes, you will make mistakes from time to time. Do the best you can. It's just common sense.

Exactly. They know what they're doing is wrong or they wouldn't be trying so hard to hide it every time, i.e., conceal the bruises, tell the kid to shut up or else, etc. And television and mainstream media, while admittedly could have a powerful voice in the matter, is the worst place to start looking for help. There are more pedophiles and child abusers in show business than you can shake a stick at. Many, many, many child actors have come out of the dark to talk about their experiences of being raped maltreated by show biz folk. It happens constantly. Likey the TV people don't do more to stop it -- because they're the ones doing it! Again, I will place my emphasis on the healthy staying that way and the healthy teaching the victims how to get healthy and stay that way. The goal is not to have empathy for victims, but to have healthy people. Emphathy for victims is a good thing in the proper place, i.e., in therapy and etc., where it is most desireable and necessary. But when victims claim their victim status and we help them do it, it can be dangerous. Often victims become bullies themselves, and make victims out of healthy people who are afraid to say and do the right thing around them because they have been victims. If you really want to help victims and empathize with them, become a dynamite therapist, for example. Help pull them up out of their victimhood. The plain truth of it is, once the hurt is done, it's done. There's no taking it back. That time and space is lost forever. Victims often are taught they can make it all go away. They can't. Those memories are a part of their lives now, and will always be. The best we can do is help them to make sense of it all, and stop it from affecting their lives adversely. Life is tough, even for healthy people. Victims have the extra added tough-luck of having to deal with their past being a pain in the ass for them and hindering every good thing they try to do with themselves. The therapist can help make that easier if he's worth his salt.

Well, Flip, as much as I would like to take full credit for initiating a process in which I overcame letting other people shove me around, I really can't do that. Basically, I just got sick and tired of them and of myself and decided I wasn't going to do it this way anymore. That's how I do most things. I don't really have a plan. At the very most, I have a picture... OK, a plan... in my head, in which I can see my future, and I simply execute it at will. I just decide what I want and go on the offensive. Yes, I know, it's a terrible habit and doesn't work for everything. I could work more effectively, I know, but haven't gotten around to it yet. I'm still full of my youthful exuberance and would have a hard time parting with my bow and arrows. I'm a thinker and a doer. I'm a man of direct action. I think and do on my feet. The grass does not grow under my feet. It's another reason I am so good at the hotel business. I'm a Mohawk in a loincloth, war paint, and a tomahawk. I'm the guy on the buckboard with the reins in one hand and the whip in the other. I'm the whipper and the driver. I will get the job done no matter what, no matter what it takes. The End Even as a manager, I could never keep from rolling up my sleeves and getting elbow to elbow with the help. Let's git 'er done, y'all.

LOl. Yes, they were all "feral". That's courteous, generous, a nice way of putting it. Betty and Neil sold my Dad one of their businesses at a huge discount to help him get started on his own. it was a small corner grocery. It always made a profit and operated in the black. Dad got hold of it and quickly destroyed it and lost it with his drinking and gambling and screwing other men's wives. Mom would take the bag of money out of the safe from the week's earnings and make the deposit slip and give it all to dad to deposit in the bank. He wouldn't be seen again for days sometimes. And when he showed up again, he was flat broke, angry, and had to beat up mom. And, of course, dad blamed Neil and Betty for selling him a crappy business. "Feral". I like that.

My most recurring dream to date... Laughter. I always wake up laughing. I can't always remember what the dream is about, but I wake up laughing out loud enough to wake myself up at least a couple of times a month. Sometimes I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts.

Hi Flip, I had a recurring dream through childhood and teens where this ghastly 900 lb. goon was chasing me through the darkness and I was desperately afraid for my life and trying to run away. But my legs felt like a ton of lead, I could move only in slow motion, and I could not escape. He was always behind me, laughing as he easily reached out to grab me and kill me. Just as he was about to grab me, I would awake in a cold sweat, breathing rapidly, sitting up in bed, sometimes screaming. I was always a pushover, a passive-aggressive, a "nice guy" as a child and teen. I did what I was told, never asked for or got what I wanted, etc. My daughter was soon to be born when I was twenty two. I was officially sick and tired of taking crap from people by then. What would I look like to my little daughter if I were stupid and letting everyone push me around? Unthinkable. The dream came to me again. The old familiar hot breath on the back of my neck, the giant, crushing hand about to smash down... 'Enough of this bullshit!' Thought I. My conscious mind was also watching the dream and I stepped in, I took control. I ignored the lead in my legs and became light as a feather at will. I sped ahead of the goon, then turned on him to confront him and take him out. By the time I turned to get my first ever look at him, I saw only a flash of his backside as he was turned and running for his life. I woke up calm , cool, collected, and smiling. Sometimes, if you are awake/aware enough in the dream, you can step in and take over and create your own outcome. I always do that when the dream is recurring and annoying me, like that one was. If the dream is enjoyable, I prefer to leave it alone and see what happens. I never had that goon dream or one like it since. That was almost thirty years ago.