It seems, as humans, two things we crave are understanding and simplicity, which if you think about it, actually work against each other.

Nothing is simple.

Yet, we get such a rush of dopamine when we UNDERSTAND something.

There are layers to knowing. This “understanding” referenced above is the first. We get it. But that’s not enough. Because what is “it?” How can I explain “it” to someone else? So we have to contain it. Label it. Generalize it.

Yet this label... is not “it.” In spite of that next endorphin rush...

And this is where humility is useful. Because, in this age, it is a temptation to rush to the socials. To post “it,” as you’ve pictured and labeled it.

The generalizations scream at us! Women never change! Watch for these red flags! Don’t text her back right away! Don’t double text! Don’t let her waste your time! Don’t buy drinks for a woman you’re not fucking! She’s not that into you!

Lord, the toxic cesspool that is social media ruins us. Tricks us into believing we understand. If only, life were that simple.

Wait. Strike that.

I’m grateful life is not that simple. That people are not that simple.

Do red flags exist? Certainly. Are they an indicator that we should simply walk away? That depends.

Look at the beautiful person in front of you. S/he attracted you... that’s physiology and not a choice. Just like you attracted her/him. You want to invest in this person. To get to know him/her.

So, we get to know each other. Are any of us perfect? No. Excellent? Maybe a precious few. Damaged? Yes, likely. Broken? Probably.

Face it. We’re all broken.

Social media declares it a triumph to walk away from her/him upon the display of these “red flags” (another generalization, no?)—you didn’t waste your time!

Understand. We’re all flawed humans. We pursue pleasure and avoid pain. These are primary. It takes a tremendous amount of discipline to apply judgement to these pursuits. Yes, there are consequences to each decision, but that is the spice of life.

That’s what keeps it interesting.

We’re exposed to such nonsense—garbage, honestly—about walking away. Saving yourself. Protecting your peace.

And maybe, sometimes that’s good advice. Generalizations CAN be helpful.

And turns of phrase. Diamond in the rough, for instance.

We all have red flags we exhibit. Few of us are totally honest—even (especially?) with ourselves. We can get to know each others thoughts and idiosyncrasies and even complete each other’s sentences... and still be total strangers.

This is me. Trying to put “it” into words. Because “it” is valuable to me. To us. And I’m failing. Not utterly, though.

Because I didn’t walk away. Because I know she’s broken. I accept that. I see her.

And she sees me. She is learning to accept that I am broken. No one has anything figured out—because there isn’t anything to figure out.

We are learning how to love each other.

For some odd reason, Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew popped into my head this morning. Perhaps that was his attempt to capture “it.”

She is no shrew. She is her. A lost soul who has made some poor choices. Why do these generalizations DEFINE us by these poor choices? A lost soul does not equal a lost cause.

Except, again, this is not a RULE to be chiseled into stone. The axiom “A leopard cannot change its spots” exists for this reason. Maybe it’s because these people were failed. And continued to be failed.

Which is why it is important for me to see this woman who’s stolen my heart. And it’s important for her to see me. Because we are evolving. Each of us is better, at least partially, because of the other. I haven’t been able to judge her, because I am aware of some of my own flaws. And through this, she is learning to do the same.

At some point, she became my mirror. Perhaps she always was.

And when we don’t think about it too much, nor try to generalize too much, we actually fit together beautifully.

The worst thing about Thanksgiving is that my autocorrect will replace “thanks” with “thanksgiving” until May.

What i'm listening to:

Misled
Kool & the Gang
Emergency

The algorithm found a meme for me yesterday.

Nobody talks about how change doesn’t require motivation.

It requires disgust. You don’t transform because you’re inspired. You transform because you’re finally sick of your own excuses. Disgust is the strongest fuel there is. Embrace it.

It’s not wrong. This is why I’ve stopped progressing. Hell, my wheels aren’t even spinning.

Comfort is one hell of a drug!

Do I have wants? Desires? Certainly.

Needs? Not so much.

Ironic how my desire to perfect the art of doing absolutely nothing hasn’t fulfilled me at all. While it is a goal, it is definitely easier to have something (at least quasi-)tangible to work towards.

Like when I was determined to weigh 140 for my class reunion.

Or determined to adventure Bucharest on my own.

Now... I’m clearly not disgusted with my disinterest in getting out of bed.

When it gets down to it, all of the motivation and inspiration in the world is fleeting. Humans crave comfort. Rest.

Yeah, it’d be cool to make a bajillion dollars before the year’s out—and I can point to at least five Instagram influencers who will help you do it—but you aren’t lacking motivation. Nor inspiration.

You are not disgusted with your life. You are content to do your time at work/school. Then go home and play video games until you’re sufficiently numb. Maybe scroll some social media reels. Have a snack and a nap and do it all again tomorrow.

And I am not sufficiently disgusted with my life. Perhaps, awareness of wondering why I am not disgusted with my own life will begin this... because my life is not great. It can be so much more.

Compensation alone is a poor motivator. And family/friends who don’t share your vision will destroy any inspiration. When will you be disgusted with your “lot in life?” They don’t want to see you improve. They tend to like you as you are.

Should I be disgusted?

It’s time for a change. I know it, deep inside. I can feel it.

As much as I love this li’l space and this platform, let’s face it.

I have no audience.

And if I want to write for myself AND others, I need to find another platform. One that has an audience.

Anyone remember LiveJournal? I recall stumbling on so many different blogs there. Time wasters, all.

But now there are platforms for writing that means something. And I want to write something that means... something.

Of course, the options flood in: Medium. Thought Catalog. Substack. Something else? Do any of these have a clear advantage? Or disadvantage?

Especially for a horny, old misogynist like me? Because, in today’s cancel culture, that is something to keep in mind as well.

And then what becomes of this space? And the nearly 1,000 posts of content?

This. Is a big step. Yet, one I need to take.