As a kid, I thought that adults all read lots and lots of books. Every time I was brought into an older adult’s home or office as a kid, I saw bookshelves packed with heavy, well-regarded texts, and feared that I would have to read so many books. Now I know that those adults I met as a kid put all those books in their shelves precisely in hopes that someone would be gullible enough to believe they’d read all of them, to sell others (and probably themselves) on the lie that they are erudite.
Passion is a power up, like the mushrooms in Mario Kart, that you encounter out of sheer fortune by simply going in circles. You will one day run into it, and it’ll automatically take you ahead of others, including all those stupid people from high school and college on Facebook that you are still jealous of.
Passion is just a continuous bout of hypomania that puts those lucky enough to be passionate on a success-producing autopilot. Yes, those randomly occurring dopamine rushes that got you to work at your goal for a few days last month, THAT’S true passion. Next time that happens is the best time for you to start on your goal again.
Passion is a gust of productivity that intermittently blows through our lives, and it just happens more often for some people than others, and that’s why they’re more successful than we are.
Passion is unreliable. Don’t make goals and timeframes, because passion has to COME to you, because then you’ll be INSPIRED, and then you’ll be successful.
Questions? Yes, you there….
What’s that? Life is simply not long enough to allow every single step taken towards a goal to arise from unreliable bouts of ‘passion’? Well too fuck bad.
Oh, you have a follow up, sure.
NO! Passion is NOT the opposite! It’s not the actions you are still taking towards your goals, even when these sporadic bouts of energy are not occuring!
STOP RAISING YOUR HAND!
Why not? Stupid ass question! That’s when you are not working perfectly! And consistent semi-perfect work is worthless compared to just 1-2 days of PERFECT work. PERFECTTTTT!!!! And you’re wrong! This lesson WILL become popular! Once I get some passion to promote it, you’ll see!
Number of Women Talked to: 0
Number of Women Whose Radii I Teetered at the Perimeter Of : 5-6
Places: Safeway, Panera Bread, Half Price Books, Starbucks
I have much more to overcome than I had initially thought. We all have ideal scenarios playing in our head of how our lives might go, but rarely do we attempt to correlate them with our current reality in that blissful moment of daydreaming. If we did we might see how far our dreams really are from who and what we are at this moment and how many actions we’ve yet to take because we had spent too long in that stupor within that nonexistent space where we’ve already taken them.
I was projecting my insecurities onto this cute brunette woman in red who walked around with an emotionless frown that I told myself was a symptom of her frigidness. It was when someone bumped into her, and SHE rushed to say sorry with a disarming chuckle, that I realized her emotionless ‘frown’ was just quotidian expressionlessness and that underneath was the kind of gentleness that can only be begotten through reaction inspired by action the type of which I did not take.
A sense of high value is projected by men and women who wear their clothing with purpose. It’s not just the gaudiness of the clothing but the arrangements of the particular pieces and their complementing of confident body language. Also high value: wearing something gaudy next to a friend doing likewise. One person: Escaped from loony bin Two People: Plotted courageous and brilliant breakout from loony bin. Like In Cuckoo’s Nest.
You have all these lines you think will go over smoothly because you play out the interactions that employ them with one-dimensional TV characters. But when I’m on the brink of saying these lines to real, 3d humans, they suddenly sound like…fake talk from TV characters. At that point I just start looking for the most generic and most likely-to-go unnoticed lines I can think of. Y’know, the level of forced generic Flanders ice milk type courtesy displayed between PTA meeting attendees of different races. One day it’ll be about the rhythm and not the notes, but at this level I need to first grasp some reliable notes so I can crescendo this mawfucka.
Elicit an emotion in a woman, anything but fear or digust, and at least I’m not pussyfooting anymore and we are being somewhat of our inner selves.
Beautiful women have come to recognize the type of person who is comfortable around unattractive people but then suddenly gets flabbergasted by their beauty and freeze up. Easily disqualified from a connection.
Even if a woman is stunning to me—-usually someone who’s just attractive enough to be a ‘league’ above me, desirable yet attainable—-having that idea of her desirability in my mind will turn me into an approval-seeking, desperate man who comes on too strong on one side and feels anxious when not getting the results I expect on the other. That anxiousness subsequently tanks me, whereas a guy who doesn’t find this woman that desirable would be more collected and smooth around her and generate more interest. Keep in mind that no one wants to be part of any club that would have them as a member. Putting people on a pedestal, particularly people who for whatever reason do not feel themselves to be that beautiful or that high-quality will repel them right off the bat and make them think of you as a loser with no life who’s super available. You are a bottomfeeder and by associating with you they’ve hit bottom. Even if I find someone stunning, in my approach I should briefly react as if they aren’t. It’s the only way to be real and not just some guy lying to himself about how he’s tryna fuck then telling him self he’s a nice guy.
It’s not about smiling or not smiling, it’s about if the smiling is a forbearer/byproduct of something silly or that of something chivalrous. Admiration from afar comes from chivalrous, human connection face to face comes from silly.
If a group of guy friends asked me to tell a girl she’s beautiful, in an adolescent-type dare, I would be more likely to do it than if I were on the prowl personally, despite the fact I’d be taking the same action in both cases. This maybe be because in the former situation I have a purpose that’s both specific and external that I am familiar with and can fall back on in my head, whereas in the latter sitch I am not sure how/why to begin and where to go and my agenda is personal. But yo, all this shit’s just in my head. I can either whine that open flirting only works when certain people dare me, or I can learn from the scenario and find a way to get back into that mental mode. It’s like acting, I generate a motivation to perform confidently and credibly. And until I’m a bit better I should probably know some lines. Just convo-starters.
When I get my first number or gf or hookup or whatnot I’ll feel like I’ve conquered the world. I could still be mostly awkward and not proactive and a bad lover/kisser. Well, learning is a lifelong process and you don’t know how much you don’t know. Take that in this way: you don’t know how much better both you and life can get, don’t be ‘done.’
Exercises to try for next time:
I like _____ because…
Emotional > Logical Details in Convo
Hold eye contact, do not cower as if she’ll shoot daggers of emasculation back.
If everything that every man since the beginning of time has done is for sex, then surely you can suffer through some positive self-talk for once, for it.
It’s not what you can get, it’s what value can you offer her, as a person. So like dig that in yo brain.
And Remember Kids: This is complex until you break it down, this is forever out of reach until you decide to lay a finger on it. A 40 something man who’s stopped taking care of his own image and health and is reclusive and bitter and seeks solace in angry talk radio and fruitless hobbies and uses porn like dialysis vs not being a coward for a few months in your 20s. That 40 something man still thinks he’ll do it tomorrow, or worse doesn’t think so anymore.
Yo, ‘d love any feedback.
On the red hill in Lake Havasu City, my grandfather’s voice is low and gravel-y but hums monotone. His expression is also stagnant. Even when he laughs or smiles, it seems impossible, but his face doesn’t move.
The dry air is crisp and chill (very unlike the humid curtains of my home state’s tropical climate where you can feel the rain in the air before it even falls) and the ground is dark red and brown from all the dust and rocks. When we walk our shoes kick up clouds.
It is December 1994. He is my grandfather because I am six and I have been told that he is. When you’re a kid, you believe in the simple reality your parents present to you. I have never seen this man before today, but he looks enough like my father; The curious eyes, the skinny jaw, the bow-legged stance. They all match.
Caught up on Scandal. Excellently soapy series. Now I’m mad crushing on Kerry Washington/powerful black women in general.