Pomposity And Cowardice

I know all about depression. I don't need a group of deranged cowards to tell me about depression and whether I'm exhibiting it. They try to hide their depression with much more vigor than I attempt to express mine. Here is an article about the attributes of conservative types. All my nemesis' are of this ilk. They seem attracted to me because i don't react to wot life sots before me in the way that they do. They wanna learn from me how I'm able to stay cool in dire straits. Fools. I can't teach them that. They're born that way the same as I'm born the way I am. Here is another article about why conservatives act the way they do, and why they vote Republican:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2008/09/18/AR2008091802265.html?hpid=topnews

Here's the link I posted the other day about why people vote Republican so you can compare notes:

http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/haidt08/haidt08_index.html

The people I'm writing about know who they are. You should try to understand why you're the way you are and stop trying to get me to teach you something that can't be taught. IF there is something that can be done about the nature of your persona, then it's you that has to do it. Hopefully, you'll do that and leave me alone to my own ways. Ways I can't do anything about any more than you can do anything about the way it is for you. Candidly, we're both lucky I haven't squashed you like an irritable bug.

Up to now I've had to guess why certain people have treated me the way they have. It's not for the reasons they claim. They want something from me that I can't give them for either love or money. Granted, I've always known I wasn't like them. I've often wished I were more like them in some ways. It's not that what they want from me is something I studied for at some esoteric school and can teach them what I was taught. I'm as stuck in my own ways as they are in their own way.

There is no limit to what they won't do in order to get what they can't have from me. They're the world's most talented sychophants, and some of them are very wealthy and have resources they can use to tempt me with. Believe me, I can be tempted. I have been tempted, and of course, failed miserably.

I've worried needlessly about becoming helpless in my old age, and taking a long time to die while in abject physical pain. I was right. The pain the steroids got shed of is coming back, and it's not because of practicing the piano scales too long and too often. It's not because I've been typing 10-12 hours a day. It's because I have rheumatoid arthritis (it runs in my mother's family), and avoiding these activities ain't gwine help with my healing.

I'm pretty sure I'll be murdered in cold blood by one of my nemesis', because I'm gonna eventually get crippled by this arthritis, and not able to live up to what they expect of me as their model for life. Even a coward can kill an invalid who can't fight back. The love they feign for me is not sexual. That's why I hate about these assholes bugging me. They love me for what they're not. It absolutely disgusts me that they're not sexual deviants like I am is. We coulda had some fun. Instead, they indignantly interrupt the sordid way I conduct my personal affairs, because they want me to be publicly worthy of their unctuous condescension.

I became somewhat convinced it was me that was insane instead of them, but now i realize it's the other way around. For one thing, the court system would never let them walk away from the state hospital after thirty days like they did me. The weird part is that they might act out and refuse to leave, because they feel safe there. Crazy is about unmitigated fear gone awry. If you handle your own fears without being put in a strait-jacket or murdering innocent people, you probably ain't crazy, but like these people, a real annoyance and a guaranteed pain-in-the-ass.

I've spent a lifetime dealing with these people's attempts to convince me I was just like them. Either that or me trying to convince them they were just like me. I didn't wanna be like them, but they sure as hell wanted to be like me. I just didn't understand why they couldn't get what they wanted and leave me alone. These are some over-the-top moralistic ideologues. Why am I always the last to know?

I began to get the picture a little from what my oldest and only child of my first marriage told me about what her mother did after we got divorced. She said her mother joined an adventure club that went on trips that were normally considered dangerous and life threatening. They rappelled down steep cliffs and did hang gliding and rode rafts down white water canyons. She wanted to learn to be brave from me. I couldn't teach her that. I liked her just fine, personality-wise. She wasn't my type sexually, and if she hadn't stayed mad at me half the time we were together because she wasn't getting what she wanted from our marriage, we would probably still be married.

It was an arranged marriage, which was fine with me, I knew it was arranged because she arranged it. It took years before I found out she had ulterior motives for wanting to marry me. I knew she didn't love me romantically. Who could? The reason I give the appearance of being what my nemesis think I am is because I'm driven by my own ulterior motives. I do what I do to give the impression that I'm a real man instead of a compromised eunuch. I'm much too good at this buffoonery.

Ain't that a hell of a match. A wounded healer and his covey/coven of cry babies. They want something they think I've got that only I know for sure I haven't. I don't deliberately trick these people to harm them. I'm not out to trick anybody but myself. My only conscious effort, in this regard, is to fool myself into thinking I'm what they're obviously not, but for my own reasons. My treating them like they're not an important part of my emotional life is because I ain't got much socially motivated compassion to give. Sartre explains this very well. It's a matter of being-for-the-other or being-for-myself. The kind of person attracted to me have a hard time instituting a ground of being-for-themselves.

Something significant and unexpected about my person was revealed to me while I was taking those steroids for the arthritis. The Prednisone healed more than just the angry spots I've described previously. They healed a deeper, more prevailing pain that I guess I was so acclimated to I must have ignored it. The loss of this more pervasive pain made me feel like a child again. It was truly like the weight of the world was removed from my entire body. It was a euphoria I only experienced as a care free child. The angry spots in my old body, like my joints and the muscles around them are returning, but for now, I"m still free of the weight.

'The Weight'

I pulled into Nazareth, I was feeling about half past dead;
I just needed some place where I can lay my head.
"Hey, mister, can you tell me where a man might find a bed?"
He just grinned and shook my hand, and 'No' was all he said.

Take a load off Fanny,
Take a load for free;
Take a load off Fanny,
And (and) (and) you put the load right on me.

http://www.cs.rice.edu/~ssiyer/minstrels/txt/1374.txt

A lotta people have wanted to kill me, in the past, because I'm such a phony. They really needed me to live up to their expectations and my own pretentiousness. They don't have a clue they're projecting what they want for themselves. Why would I feel any empathy for them that they fooled themselves with me? My eunuchiness makes a compassion of that order practically impossible. Why do you think I've been able to walk away with such niggardly aplomb. I can't even teach them how to do that. I have been able to inspire them to walk away, hell, I"ve driven them away with anger, but only ti-me can give them that feeling of aloofness they sense from me. I have mentioned I studied acting as my major course of study in college, right?

I made the mistake of falling in love with my second wife. She is a little dumb like many beautiful women are. It took years and two babies later to figure me out. I literally had to tutor her in order for her to get the point. Once she did, however, she didn't waste no ti-me trying to find a replacement. No blame. She didn't. It was her older brother who became my surrogate. Nobody knows her accusations of me were truer than me. It still hurt. I certainly didn't figure on loving the children, and in the endgame, it was that love she used to nail me to the cross. She shouldn't have oughta done that for the children's sake. Now, it's too late. They got their own lives, and may God bless them with that.

I am trying to forgive her. I am trying to forgive myself. I doubt if our children will forgive either one of us. No blame.