Our Gamed System’s Lack Of Vision

These folks, our elected and appointed elites, need advice with our gamed system. It’s a shame the advice both the main party ideologies seem to have, is from other folks just like themselves. They are bound by beliefs and set practices that bar them from thinking creatively. This has caused us as “just regular citizens” of our country, and many others around the world to suffer. Of course, being regular citizens we know there are many ways to suffer. One of those ways is, the public having to respond to the politicians reactionary policies of fear, as they slam their breaks on sensible policies for our future. No matter what party you do or don’t belong to, we’re always recovering  from political whiplash at the very least.

If they’d only ask someone normal for an idea or opinion, as the present paid advisers, lobbyists, PAC, and Super PAC Spokespersons seem bent on destruction. The legislative powers approve some changes this foolishly, but disallow or don’t even consider other changes which of benefit. They’re plagued by old set practices from a time when our system of governance wasn’t so debased .

Goodness forbid, they might use a few advisers with life experiences, opposed to those with agenda’s, connection, and contracts, to give an honest appraisal. Then pick their minds for a wealth of knowledge, that’s reality based, All at less cost to their all so important elections to privilege, because they actually seem informed. Especially considering, how comical many elected officials look being as out of touch as they are. This might help, you never know. Certainly little else has made a real difference. Then, maybe we could actually address some of our mounting issues, and work on some of these, all around, burdens all.

Personally, I have little hope or sight of this ever happening. You see, every time I look at our politics I have this curious vision problem. I laughingly call my problem a “dystopia”. Today when I look at the political glass, it is neither half full or half empty, but cracked and leaking. I want the best for my fellow Americans, but I can’t see it coming back around. There’s just, no vision.

Have You Hugged a Homebody Today?

I stepped out yesterday, to do a bit of shopping. Not my favorite thing, it always heightens my nerves. A noted ,but controllable result of PTSD. This experience is nothing new for me, and can bring things into your awareness that most people would never notice. In every bunch of us there’s some who stand out. Most note someone tall or short, men and women note attractive women and men, and children misbehaving, draw the awareness of most adults. However, and I’ve commented on this before, there are those in the world invisible and missed. I think I see these invisible and forgotten based on past work experience. Along with this awareness given me, when I feel a bit odd from a PTSD response.

These aren’t people wearing funny hats or tattered clothing. That’s not what draws my attention. These oddities are subtle. It’s a look for some. Not the way the face looks, but where when approached the eyes go. But I understand it, I think.

You see, or maybe you don’t, these are people specifically trying to not catch anyone’s attention. It’s purposeful. You’ve known people like these all your lives. You knew them in school, when we called them shy. Some who were once bubbly and out going, may have changed themselves. Myself, I’m am a bit of a hermit now. Where as in my youth, I was very out going.

Whether you’ve known, know, or have noticed these my brother and sister, we are different. there’s no question. Some think we are angry grumpy rude. No, we’re overwhelmed, because we are quiet introspective homebody’s. This means we are hard to get to know.

From my perspective I have limits in the number of people I’m comfortable within a group, and that’s not 200 people moving about in a rush pushing carts in a shopping frenzy. In fact, my personal comfort zone is about 6 people.

Maybe my PTSD has helped in a way, if I’m honest. When I was one of those friendly social group gathering people, I passed judgment, all be it quietly and personally on people who were shy homebody’s. I did this in ignorance then. I was young invincible, living life fast, putting myself in difficult positions. Actions on my part that allowed me to experience, even if traumatic painful and tragic, this change. I’ve repent and understand, my private home-bodied brothers and sisters.

The funny thing though, like everyone else we are just trying to get by. Trying to get along in packed spaces. Trying to not be a bother or even be noticed. We, my antisocial family, aren’t hateful. Most of us, I feel, have good thoughts for our fellows. Some I’m sure, are even envious of the social butterflies out in the world. We are here, all over, waiting on the non-judgmental, the patient, and the calm to note our qualities. We make trustworthy loyal rational. life long friends, not hundreds of acquaintances. We in the end, are simply people. We offer a different perspective.

Have you hugged a homebody today?

The Darker Side of a Human Experience

I find many have questions about my personal issues. They want to know why I call myself a hermit. Some what to know how I became a hermit. Others ask why I feel a need to limit my contact with people, even as I profess to loving all of humanity and the wonders of uniqueness within all people. So, I will attempt to share the truth and whys of this aspect of my life.

There is a time in my past where I lost all faith in the decency of my fellow humans. It took some time for these feelings of fading faith and trust, to degrade to a point, where a single action pushed these issues straight over the edge, for yours truly.

I know I’ve seen more of the darker side of humanity, than most. I think that’s a good thing though. I think, most often, those on the darker side haven’t made an overt or conscious choice to get where they are. With circumstances often beyond youths control, youth as it ages in difficulty and stress, moves towards this, that I call the darker side of a human experience.

My first upset back then, was the effect of poverty. Even in a western culture, under our standards, poverty is a sad state of affairs. It wasn’t the struggle of the adults in poverty that was difficult. It was the suffering of the young whose parents were struggling. It was knowing that there was enough not to end the struggle of the parents but the suffering of the children.

Seeing how youth has changed, and not for the better, when something truly their own, was missing from their life. When others have had good summer vacations with family, but yours was trying to save some change for clean laundry. Knowing other families have leftovers from meals, when your experience is white bread and mayonnaise sandwiches, after scraping together enough change, at the month’s end, for a loaf of bread, isn’t the best place for youth to consider their future.

So I’ve watched what actions become more common and seemingly acceptable as these age groups progress in years. Knowing at the same time, because of various other experiences, that such a life for children doesn’t have to exist . That doesn’t stop the negative advancement. Knowing there’s an answer and having the powers that be take the decision that gives the answer motion are completely different.

My first hit to faith was the no action for the sake of children. My second hit to faith was the young themselves, and the ease at which their ethical actions push aside. But here, I don’t actually see any behaviors that other poor populace’s don’t espouse when impoverished themselves. Maybe I was wrong to hope for better.

These are small issues. The true move over the edge is seeing those youth who’ve become adults in this environment, who now have a real choice in life, as to their direction, choosing to advance their loss of moral and ethical values under the free will of adulthood.

These observations of a communities dynamic came from direct observation, while working at a crappy Convenience-Store. Granted, you do see the best and the worst of humanity in such a place. Honestly though, those best parts of humanity are very few and farther between, than one would hope.

The worst of humanity is what caused my personal change. My lack of trust and loss of faith in my fellow-man, is complete with this, the worst part. That part being those youths who’ve grown to adulthood and not changed their path but escalated their crimes.

I had a friend stop in my work after his work to grab his nightly 16 ounce beer and chat. I had a bunch of customers rushing to buy alcohol, and in queue. My friend said hello to a female customer, and all hell broke loose. My friend was then attacked, by the girls boyfriend, who was also a neighborhood gang member. While this happened others held me back, and seeing an opportunity the customers looted the store. Meanwhile while being held back, the gang members attempted the murder of my friend while I could only struggle and watch.

When it finished, after the looting beating ambulance and police, I cleaned up the puddles of blood my friend had left, and pulled blood spattered products off the shelves, and tried to clean the dried droplets from the windows, and finished my shift. I’ve never to return to the neighborhood let alone the store.

Several months later I testified against the three gang member, at trial. They were, convicted. I lost a friend too. I think that was destiny. I know I suffered guilt for so long, not being able to save a friend from such a fate. I’ve also even though I love humanity, I have no faith or trust in those whom I don’t know. This is why I choose the life of a hermit. These circumstances are why I stay close to home. You see it’s not for me I stay home, it’s for you. Protection is the concern. Protecting you from me. My lack of trust and faith in you, brings me to a full defensive state. A state of mind where the unknowns are a danger and those dangers might cause on my part the inappropriate actions, of which I complain. A loss of morals and ethics, as my body slips into survival mood.

I am kind loving stable and happy when holding down the hermit home front. I am a spring ready to snap, ready to give up my life for those I love, without question, on a seconds notice of perceived danger. I am a hermit, and see myself as an unaccounted for variable when spending time in public. As a hermit I care and I love, in public I’m a time bomb that searches for injustice and crime. I have what I’m told is a special look. Which has now and then served me well. The unknown for other is when that look comes, how close I am to dispensing my brand of vigilantly justice, with a special emphasis on adults who are lucky enough to have children, but choose to abuse them in public. Because the children are innocence, till the world of selfish uncaring inattentive abusive adults, destroys the children from within.

So, Why am I a hermit? I am a hermit for you, so I can keep love in my heart for everyone.

Eternal Verity

Some realizations of self-analysis, are hard to accept. Especially where a duality is undeniable. It does though, allow one to see, the fight for a better future is within.

A Social Network Taboo

I’d like to say a few things, about male/female relationships. Recognizing it’s a Social Network Taboo, if one wishes to keep up the social network. I must say as usual, I don’t care.
First, you’re beautiful. No male, and this is my masculine view, has an adjective more powerful, or the will to search for one.
Second, Good lord we know we’re not eloquent speakers, the locker room has ruined us all.
Third, some of us even try. We’re just so damn slow, the change is barely noticeable.
Fourth, If you wish to change a man, faster than his damn slowness allows, what the hell were you doing with him in the first place?
Finally Fifth, not all of us need utter silence for ESPN Sport Center. Some of us have other sport in mind, besides anything aired Saturday and Sunday. For some men those major television network Coliseum of commercial sales propaganda, mean nothing. We don’t believe subconsciously, drinking one beer over another will make us more or less attractive.
Yes gents, I know I’m not a spokesperson for the stereotypical male, but I do have the weekends free.
Maybe now is the time to worry.

Somethings Fishy, Conserve and Profit

Record Price for Bluefin Tuna  BBC News
The Economics of Extinction, One Tuna at a Time.   lastwordonnothing.com
From Whaling to the active decimation of blue fin tuna stocks, as a former Fish Monger, I see these actions as criminal. From fishing in Alaska to throwing salmon at The Pike Place Market in Seattle, from buying seafood for Safeway to managing stores for Johnny’s Seafood in Washington, the true professionals I’ve known  have always mixed the desire for profit with conservation of the resource, many unthinkingly exploit. A failing of fish stocks, causes the failing of these industries, and a massive loss of jobs. Many understand this basic truth. While many don’t, and manically destroy the life in our lakes seas and oceans. I’ll say it again, this is a crime against all citizens of the world.
I too like Sashimi grade Ahi, but there is a limit. You don’t decimate a species to increase its price. Increased cost, and therefore profit, through extinction is not a good business model.

Nice Guys on the Bench

I’m pretty upset again, as a Nice Guy, which is really no surprise. I have never been married, and had few relationships, even if they are of a greater duration than that of my peers. I’ve note, even the men of my age, still go through companions as fast as the energy drinks they consume.

I would think these men would count themselves as lucky. They don’t though. They seem continuously on the prowl for the BBD. (Bigger Better Deal). They never realize how blessed they are. They verbally abuse their companion. Offer belittling them in public, only to show off. I would have thought these affectations would pass like the generations, but they have not.

My true issue is the men who’ve chosen this path, where it involves their female companions. These behaviors make it close to impossible for well-mannered “Nice Guys”, quiet as they are, to have a chance at a successful relationship. Which isn’t surprising, when one considers the emotions and questions that rise, from the shell-shocked female, after her latest male companion has abused insulted ignored or just taken for granted, all that could have been theirs.

For men like myself, who know or are often told they are a Nice Guy, a good friend, and like a brother, can even be a more difficult reality. One is of course, pleased to be in such company. However, the nice guy can be torn apart by these words. They can be a reminder of their loneliness, and failure to communicate their feelings effectively.

I’d like to help myself, and other Nice Guys with a word of advice, to disillusioned women. If you as a women, find all of your relationships have a tone that includes, belittling of your thoughts ideas and personal beliefs, it’s time for a change. This change is all up to the women. It starts with a realization that the relationships that have been, are the opposite of what’s truly desired.

After the true desire and realization are reached, a solution is easy. Take that internal list of Nice Guys, Just friends, and like Brothers, and look at it closely. Ask yourself why and what qualities,  these esteemed Nice Guys, friends, and like brothers, have that place them on this list.

You can allow yourselves as women, decent quality men. Arguably there are men on your personal mental relegation lists, that are excluded subconsciously or otherwise, for whatever reason.

Those reasons could be any number of things, such as looks, weight, style, earning potential, education, or considerations about what others within your circle may think or say. This should be looked at closely. Making sure first, that you are meeting your own expectations. Asking if you’re limiting yourself in your relationships, because of image and esteem issues, while looking at your past relationships success or failure.

My contention is, there are fine decent caring men who are excluded from many relationship possibilities, because they are Good Guys. They are decent caring men, willing to put in the work relationships require. Men who feel blessed by their companion, instead of entitled to a companion. Men who can listen, because they feel blessed to have someone sharing with them. Men who would never consider calling their female companion demeaning names, because first, it’s not in their nature, or second in any way called for.

There are fine men waiting on the sidelines, to enter the game, when it’s finally realized the starting line up has been no real show, but all flash. When you need someone with the energy, who will happily go into overtime, while still playing a clean game, those Nice Guys on the bench are happy and pleased to step in. Look to the bench, as a Nice Guy is there to step in, with fairness honesty, and modesty.

For men, flip-flop the sexes in this post. Whats good for the goose, is good for the gander.

Relationships Money and Violence

I’m not a fighter, in my relationships. I don’t yell rage or menace my partner, when there is friction. I would never raise my hand or strike my companion. Unfortunately my ways aren’t the ways of all men. I would even say the problem of abuse, and issues that can be the catalyst for abuse, are on the rise. I certainly don’t have any statistical proof of my supposition. It’s more a visceral response, based on what I see.

There is very little that will stress a relationship more, than difficulties with finances. With conditions as they are, I imagine there are more stressed relationships than there were 4 or 5 years ago. The true assessment of this hypothesis, I’ve done with my eyes and ears, when out in public and at home. I take what I observe today, then compare to memories of similar experiences in my past.

I’m not one to get out much, but like everyone else I must shop. This is a great time to observe the interactions of couples shopping together, and they are a dime a dozen. Also, shopping requires money, so the stress dynamic is in play.

The main arguments on the isles seem to come from impulse and convenience items or goods that are intoxicating. I’d put 1/3 of the shopping couples conflicts, in the intoxicant category. And yes, here it’s usually the female of the couple appealing for temperance. So with this observation, I can look at other situations and see if the same dynamic applies.

I can’t say I’m blessed, as a man in his mid-forties, with teenage as neighbors. I am though, blessed with much activity to draw in and draw on, with my living arrangements. I also think looking at the interactions of young couples, just learning about what real relationship require, is an excellent time to see the reality of monetary stresses at their base level. Young people having less money than established adults, generally speaking, creates a volatile environment to monitor.

I think it might be tradition, or even an inbred sense of responsibility, but this type of stress taints the mans behavior, more so than the female. Although this is merely my personal observation. I believe this is where the behaviors come into play, that shame men on the whole. This too is only my observation however, in the area of yelling I believe the woman have the men beat on this action. It’s easily though, the most socially acceptable of the behaviors. As for rage, that goes to the men, from the sound that comes through my living room wall. Finally we have menace in the mix. This is an action that leads to the domestic violence that sickens me, and that I deplore.

I know the monetary stress is taking its toll. I know this because, the issue has seeped through my walls. I know it’s gone too far for a couple, when there financial issues wake me in the night. I see the relationship is at a tragic point, or should be, when I’m reaching for the phone, wondering if I should make a call. And, it’s completely beyond repair, when I’ve dial the police, because the slam against my wall had me thinking, I was going to have a house guest.

It’s amazing though, that a males ego and pride can lead to such anger, as well as violence. To me a difficult challenge should be met by a coming together. Obstacles should bring to a couple, unity of purpose. The roll of help-mate not hurt-mate, should be the practice of both parties. That though, was not the experience of last night.

Are these abusive practices on the rise? Yes, I believe they are in the younger generations. Whether it’s a lack of two parent families, because of divorce, or a step back from two parent families traditional roles, there seems to be an unwanted result. Possibly it’s a product of media influence. Whatever it is, I don’t like the trend I see, or the future it represents. I also feel, outcomes like last night, give men on the whole a bad name. And frankly I don’t think the penalties for such behavior go far enough. I’m not arguing for harsher sentences. I am though asking other men who aren’t abusers to shun those who are. To look at your group of buddies, and remove from your circle those who are giving you a bad name. Don’t make excuses. Don’t listen to their justifications, as there aren’t any. In the words of Isaac Asimov “Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent”.

 

Education, The Fourth Estate and a Totalitarian Future

I’ve been called an information sponge. I, however, consider myself only a watcher. A spectator, who studies the nature of man . Having in my life, dealt with many suffering from psychotic schizoid dissociative borderline paranoid delusional, personality disorders. The symptomatology of each of these psychiatric circumstances, are the elements I use to judge micro and macro information disseminated to the public by the fourth estate.

I’m just getting used to being a critic. I think it’s helped over the last two years, that I’ve sat as a panelist, reviewing literature for an award. This has been a quality experience, and plays nicely into my inclinations to check up on the mainstream press. A group definitely needing a bit of oversight.

Like our economy here in America, the press also works on a trickle down philosophy. Dumbed down false stories, partial  stories, celebrity stories, sound bite disinformation, and propaganda are the tools used now by our fourth estate. They create a daily spectacle for the people, holding the line given by those they are beholding to for access. This falls into access to basic press briefing, personal interviews, and even insider tips.

The fourth estate being chained to these, their sources, in no way allows for  a dissemination of  accurate unbiased reporting of fact. It only allows for the status quo presently in place, to continue its campaign of dumbing down their viewer the voter and the country.

The worst of it is, if you look at the state of education and the impotence of the fourth estate to inform with actually facts not opinion based spin, sets up a catastrophe in the making. A poorly educated, ill-informed public is they easiest to manipulate.

It will be those young and coming of age who will be the most effected. I think if we love our children maybe we should step away from the propaganda of mainstream disinformation. It’s easy to do in these day we live now. The Internet here, is a blessing. The Internet can also be a blessing in your child’s, “No Child Left Behind” education. Especially considering a no child left behind class, learns at the pace of the slowest among the classroom of students. I call it an, “almost all children left behind” policy. Net time can help this, in a time where schools can’t afford text books for each students use. A condition causing few, to no text books, to ever be brought home for further study.

What I wish most is a return to a skeptical public. As opposed to the sheep like acceptance slowly coming on the wings of poor education, and a beholding fourth estate, that is a growing sector of manipulation, and dare I say, flat-out lies. No change to this present trends of the fourth estate and education , leads to a quietly created totalitarian government.

Just thought I’d throw this opinion out there, to kick around for a bit.

His Name Was Scott

There are moments when life changes in a split second. I hate to say it, but most of the time these aren’t “Lottery Winning Moments” . I know, everyone has been given their own burdens to bear, in this life we led. If you don’t have any burdens of your own please write. I want to know the person, and this Utopian life they lead. Or simply see how well the lie of a burden free life is told. As that’s all I can see the claim as being.

Long ago as an outsider I slipped into a group of wonderfully flawed social misfits. Which hey, go figure, worked for me. These guy had all gone to school together, when they went to school. Honestly not in the greatest of areas back then. It was just past Seattle city line, out of “Rat City”.

I fit well with crew of guys. Hell, shared homes meals bottles booze work and life in general with these guys. The times weren’t always the best, but we all made it through. Strengthening our friendship. We even got a nickname, “The Ton of Fun, Crew”. Our boss came up with that, and referred to us by it. The job was like being an under paid over work bouncers, wrestlers, and amateur kick boxers. I never even in the beginning felt my back wasn’t 100% covered. You may not know these kind of work situations, where the “customers”, are a blaze, flying their gang colors. Where the insult at the end of the night is one of those gang members tries to put $50 in your pocket, from the roll of ill-gotten gains. Telling you to buy something nice, while almost laughing in your face flaunting their rolls of cash.

There came a time for us, even with unity, our group was broke up. Things do change in life. It is the way of things. The youngest of our group broke away first, and move to a new position in the same company. An advancement, with a nice increase in pay. We were all pleased for him.

Our youngest group member had been working so hard to change his life. We all saw it as wonderful, and definitely for the better. He had trimmed down to a healthy weight, just before he had taken the new position. Shortly after that, he purchased a new car. Also because of the life changes and time, his skin cleared up from his youthful acne. But I think best of all at the time, it was nice to see our friend and fellow misfit was now, after never having been even noticed before, popular and even looked up to. He, we felt, was doing very well, and all of us were pleased. Our friend, even started dating, and soon found his first female companion. We all had spoken together as the relationship went forward. Some of us having more experience with relationships, and as this was his first, he was Cautioned, and it was Highly recommended that he simply be watchful considering the newness of it all. We were all friends, and friends do these things

It was only a short time later, when he said he was moving. He was taking up residence with his new girlfriend. He was challenged about this decision at the time. There was concern that time didn’t allow him the knowledge he needed, to properly evaluate the repercussions of the choice he was making. It was mentioned that returning to the former living situation wasn’t going to be a possibility. This because of a move being made stimulated by his move out. This was presented to him not because of perceived rashness of his choice, but financial needs. A last attempt was still made to snap him out of the spell he was under. The spell cast by a mans first love.

His choice made, he fell into the rhythm of work and his new relationship easily. The female attention he had, new and fresh though it was to him, had its own agenda. In this case, I have felt it was financial security. He was a saver not a spender. There were no bad habits, for him. His life was frugal, never excessive. It just wasn’t him. Kind as he was, I think the stress of this new financial burden got to him over time. She was confronted by him, over the increasing financial burden, her having quit her job. Nothing unusual for her. She had him though and tried to used his inexperience against him. She told him it was over and to get out. I’m sure she was thinking he would apologize and bend to her demands. He did none of that. He took her at her word, which ended his first relationship.

A tough dream lost by a fine man. A man frankly never noticed, but by a few. With women, he for all but a few months of life, was 100% relegated to the friends list, without a thought. Not a crime, but a fact. I feel a weight he felt he couldn’t face. He had changed all he had been, but tried to be what he wasn’t, to be with someone who didn’t want the amazing man he was, or even the amazing man he was trying to become.

Don’t get me wrong, I know these situations go both ways but this is a part of my life I’m trying to share.

Caught, confused embarrassed and hurt by the loss of first love. He made a rash decision. My friend ended his life, with a $79.00 K-mart shotgun. Purchased the same day of the break up. He had taken a drive in his new car to the waterfront, looking across at the Seattle city skyline. He was found by a morning jogger. They brought in the police what they found on his person for ID was the paycheck stub for the check given to him when he finished work the night of his death.

I have always been a private guy I don’t go out much even now let alone then. We because of what we did we weren’t people’s favorite. You see five guys, all over six-foot, barreling out a Monte Carlo with a combined weight of 1500 lbs. (and armed) you pay attention. I had pulled a swing shift and was just getting to sleep, when a knock came on our door. I was my boss and the police. Nobody was coming in till I found out what the hell was going on. Informed, I seated them in the living room. I sharing a home now with my now dead friends brother. I went to his room, no one else was breaking this news.

I want you to know, some people are born hard, and some grow hard from life experience. Diamond hard is the only way I can break such news.

I cracked the door and stepped into his room. I closed the door, and woke his mother’s now only son. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was taking this man to the living room, to allow a total stranger, a police officer to boot, drop this suicide bomb on him. He woke slow, but I let the house guest sit. When I told him of his brother, I also told him of our guests. I also was left to tell him of the police’s request. A request for him to relinquish for a time his licensed sidearm.

Although I have done it before, that was the last time in my life, that I had to take a gun from someone. It’s just a shame it was this man. A person who had saved my ass time and again. This complex person, who had lost his own brother to a gunshot. A man who would have taken a bullet for me. A man who was now his parents only child. A man sadly short his brother, whose name was Scott.

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