Leaving is never easy, even if it’s only Facebook.

I do feel lighter though.

It’s no secret I despise the flawed technology everyone else seems fine with. Even while writing this blog I had to deal with a sketchy Internet connection which wasted the better part of an hour of my life; an hour I cannot get back as with all the hours spent online doing what we authors are told is necessary.

This Sunday I will be pulling the plug on facebook forever; not merely deactivating—not just taking a break—but deleting my account.

Why would an author or writer ever do this when “experts” tell us we should be on social media to create a following which may lead to people reading our blogs who then might decide to buy our books? Should, may, and might are words used by politicians and other con-men to dupe the unsuspecting, the uninformed, and the gullible. I am none of those any longer. I did however willingly join in the lie of social media five years ago, and stayed two years longer than I planned. Perhaps this was out of a false sense of loyalty to relative strangers on the Internet, or it’s possible I’m more of an egotist than I thought. Maybe solitude finally got to me? Nah. I’ll let you know if and when I figure it out.

Many of the people I’m leaving behind were kind and supportive and they have all been thanked for their encouragement along the way.

Some shared my warped sense of humour and we had some laughs. These people will be missed. Just like childhood friends, former co-workers, or old neighbours, they are genuine when they say you will be missed, but they will get busy with their lives and soon forget about you. It is the way of things.

I have been a harsh critic of social media and facebook a.k.a fakebook a.k.a. flakebook in particular, for its practices i.e. privacy, data collection, and mental conditioning algorithms. I realize now my preaching abstinence there was as effective as a priest giving a sermon on morality in a whorehouse.

It felt hypocritical and it’s time to cut the cord.

I hope my remaining facebook friends, who might stumble across this, find the peace and joy I once had and am attempting to get back in touch with again.

I wish you well.

Five Long Years

The fall of Western civilization can be charted by the declining number of book readers.

Yesterday was National Book Lovers Day, and on social media it came in like a lamb and went out with a whimper. On twitter, it never made Trending status in the many hours I was on which says a great deal about where everyone’s heads are these days. As expected, facebook and the mainstream media ignored it completely. Why? The answer is a simple one.

Readers a.k.a. thinking people, are dangerous to the rising regime.

“Book Lovers Day is celebrated on August 9 every year. This is an unofficial holiday observed to encourage bibliophiles celebrate reading and literature. People are advised to put away their smartphones and every possible technological distraction and pick up a book to read.” Wikipedia

I did my bit by contributing a half dozen tweets which were repeated on my facebook page that, not surprisingly, ranged from serious to amusing. Most saw no engagement. Yes some genuine book lovers tweeted, as well as some booksellers, but this was an opportunity missed by almost every author, publisher, educator, and library I know and about a million others I don’t.

We all talk a good game when discussing the importance of reading in America, but when it comes to actively doing something collectively about the problem, we fall flat.

Changing how we parent, educate, treat the environment, allow ourselves to be governed. . . all have become political, and this is why intelligent people no longer participate in these discussions. The prevailing rampant stupidity in politics has silenced the majority who need to speak out and be heard.

I thought book people would be different.

I know many are introverted. I also know they are smart. Why is it they do not realize their apathy endangers their beloved books. Here’s how the world works, kids:

If you are not fighting for it, they will take it away.

 

Why be a starving writer when you could be a starving naked artist.

I am so sick of computers and everywhere they take us.

Being a writer means being married to your computer. Things are made worse if you are a published author because you also have long term commitments to social media and publishing sites. My almost one-year-old Dell is an evil wife. She has melted down twice in the short time we have been together; a RED FLAG if ever there was one. So why continue to put up with the daily torment of weak WiFi, boggy performance due to updates and background processes, and the general stupidity of the online world when there is little or no money in it?

I can do other things.

The real question is: What other things can I do which don’t involve computers? I could reinvent myself once again as a post modernist painter. I might use my initials to create a new artist identity: Ethan Alfonso? It has an artsy ring to it. I could add a hook as well: All Alfonso’s are painted in the nude. Post modernist erotic portraits of lonely housewives and  divorcées, painted by a still pretty hot naked guy, should get me laid more than writers do. The fee for such commissioned portraits would certainly exceed what I make as a writer; perhaps several times over. For a tiny initial investment—far less than book publishing—I could whip off a bunch of samples to lean against the walls of my apartment for prospective clients to peruse; perhaps over wine, if they are hot. I could sell some works beach-side while working on my tan. Once summer ends here, I can move into a spacious van and travel to various beach communities down South, chasing the warmth of the sun, and making Canadian winters something I don’t do anymore.

What’s the worst that could happen?

It’s possible I might be killed by a jealous husband, but this has always been my preferred check-out plan anyway.

Sounds like a worthwhile endeavour to me.

Where is that art supply store?

I’d Google it, but this hunk of junk Dell—soon to be ex wife—sucks harder than the vacuum of space during a hull breach on the Enterprise.

Rated R: Sex, Academic Lies, and Video Tape

What is manly?

Is wrestling manly? I probably couldn’t wrestle my way out of a drunken all female Mazola party these days, but that may be more due to a lack of desire than capability. To avoid any more middle-aged sex related injuries, which are embarrassing to explain to your doctor, I now spend much more time wrestling with ideas and questions. They are much safer, even though Doc thoroughly enjoys hearing of my exploits . . . perhaps a little too much, now that I think about it.

Some of what goes on in my cerebrum is farcical while other thoughts are incredibly deep for a male—or so I’ve been told. To better illustrate how man-brains work, for our female readers, I will let you peer in to see what is rolling around in here in these next sentences. Could a female friend pin me in a bare knuckle match without the benefit of any lube to help me escape? Would I want to escape? Would I throw the match and submit? Does this make me submissive? Can a submissive man still be manly? If she won fair and square, without resorting to tickling, would she be considered manly? Would her conquest relegate all six-foot-three two hundred pounds of me to the effeminate loser list? Why are there winners and losers? Who thought that up? Who are the beneficiaries, and who or what suffers in a social construct such as this?

I tend to look at most things as systems.

Ecosystems show us how all things are connected and how there is intelligent design behind them which endlessly strive to maintain a healthy balance.

Each life form follows a program. We call this nature and natural.

I look at humans in much the same way, but we are different. We have the power of choice and yet we seem to endlessly choose poorly. Why is this? What if our program has been, and continues to be, tampered with? In my book I put forth the idea The Princess Program has been responsible for holding women back from reaching their full potential for generations.

I now see the Princess Program as more of a subroutine to a larger Patriarchy Program where, at some point in history, men discovered TAKING WAS EASIER THAN MAKING.

Thus began our long string of bloody conquests which continue to this day. Has patriarchy always been with us? If you were to rely purely on the mainstream Western history we are taught in school you might think so. “They” tell us about “recorded history” which currently sits at about 5500 years with a focus on empires rather than civilizations which shift from Egypt, to Greece, to Rome. “Coincidentally”, the first written records of religious practice date to almost the same time: circa 3500 BCE in Sumer, but no historian can say how long Mesopotamia had religion before that. Regardless, all significant religions would be male dominated from 3150 BCE forward. I call all of this “patriarchy approved history” because academia discredits, downplays, ignores, suppresses, and will not fund research into early civilizations which may have done things differently.

Publishing anything in academic circles about a more balanced, harmonious, democratic, and sustainable way of living is not encouraged.

You and your children probably never heard anything in history class about African matriarchies dating back to 8000 BCE, nor are future generations likely to. The countries that could have shown us a better way have been completely conquered or destabilized by Western “interests” . . . destroying their cultures and much of their histories in the process. Prior to my rewrite of this section, I had compiled a list of what could be construed as signs of matriarchy throughout history, but it occurred to me that:

FEMALE RULE DOES NOT A MATRIARCHY MAKE.

So I scrapped it. There was hierarchy, militarism, and taxation systems evident in each, and these are the signs of patriarchy. The patriarchy loves pharaonic Egypt where one man was worshipped as a god. This became the touchstone.

It is a construct.

Patriarchy gave us aggressive autocracy, a class system, and the near total subjugation of women. What happens when a patriarchal society can no longer expand its borders and wealth through conquest? It turns inward on itself to exploit its own citizens and lands.

The patriarchy can never have enough.

It over-taxes, it makes cuts to education, it cuts social programs, it gouges for medicines, it suppresses reliable news sources and replaces them with propagandists, and it buys politicians and lawmakers as tools of the trade.

I now see racism, patriotism, sexism, political divide, corruption, inequality, a military industrial complex, the entertainment industry, higher education, the Internet, security agencies, and the porn industry as being functionaries of an unnatural and long-standing Patriarchy Program.

Now back to our regularly scheduled program.

Question: When is a blow job no longer just a blowie?

Answer: When it is degrading the blower.

I have been studying human relationships for nearly as long as I’ve been alive. Lately this, ahem, purely intellectual pursuit has led me to study the world of porn. My indoctrination into the objectifying sexist world of the patriarchy began at age twelve when a friend across the street discovered a stash of his father’s old Playboy magazines hidden deep in a crawlspace.

Each of us who were invited to take a look, stuffed a few magazines down our pants which helped a short time later to cover our erections as we walked hurriedly passed our moms to our rooms for about one minute of auto-erotic fun before finding a safe hiding spot for our new loves. Yes, we developed and talked about our attachments to our paper fantasy women. I would talk about how my girl Brandi loved to swim naked, and my friend would say how his Cindy-Jo likes to roll around in the barn wearing only cut-off shorts and suspenders.

A couple of years later, our supplier’s dad upgraded to Penthouse which was showing vagina so most of the neighbourhood boys switched as well. By the time Larry Flint hit the scene with Hustler, I had a regular supply of real vagina life support systems, a.k.a girlfriends, so I left porn mostly behind. The previous sentence shows how my objectification indoctrination into the patriarchy had taken hold at an early age. My view at the time was girls were in possession of boobs and vaginae and I really liked and wanted these things. A pretty face ranked third on my list of wants, and there was no thought whatsoever given to their minds. On the odd occasion when I had an opportunity to peek into Hustler, I remember not fully comprehending why any guy would want to look at these “hard core” women who weren’t nearly as pretty as the girls in Playboy or Penthouse.

Who wants a skanky slut who’s seen more dick ends than weekends?

Things have changed, and not for the better, but fortunately so have I. Did you know 90% of boys and 60% of girls are exposed to Internet porn by age 18? Do you also realize the extent to which the hard core porn industry dominates Internet browsers? I am a fan of Fine Art Nude Photography, but it is next to impossible to find photographers like Radoslaw Pujan through Bing or Google image searches because of the SEO strategies employed by the porn industry.

It’s as though they want to put the ugliest most degrading imagery of women in front of every casual passerby, and tragically, this includes our youth.

This does however explain all the submissive cum-dumpsters worshipping at the alter of cock we see everywhere these days.

This is not sex forward feminism. This is an abomination of that idea.

Trend following behaviours are indicators of a pliable psyche which is susceptible to mental conditioning.

I believe this to be the ultimate goal of today’s patriarchs which is best illustrated by young people who claim their sexual explorations, tattoos, piercings, and silver coloured hair are signs of their individuality. If you didn’t do it first, you are just proudly telling the world how easily you are led, how desperate you are to fit in, and how oblivious you are to being manipulated. These are badges of conformity-not independence -an acknowledgement of your submission to The Patriarchy Program.

The patriarchy really knows what it’s doing.

Can you say the same?

We are all indoctrinated into this system before we are wise enough to question it. If you want to break your chains or ensure your children do not succumb to these many forms of psychological programming, just teach them to never stop asking the question three-year-olds love to ask:

Why?

A questioning mind is a gift which will lead them to awareness and conscience. People so equipped can navigate life making fewer poor decisions which ultimately frees them from the unhappiness plaguing most of humanity. These true individuals can beat back the patriarchs merely by not playing along, and they will be needed in greater numbers than ever before in the next two generations. We have reached the tipping point.

Any “us and them” divide which blinds people with hate and rage is another victory for the patriarchs in their covert war on humanity.

Don’t be a joiner.

Saying no is the true mark of individuality and freedom of thought.

Of Squirrels and Airplanes

It’s been a long, long, long time since I have had a day like this-literally years since I published a slightly impaired blog titled: An Intoxicated Tirade, or words to that effect. A conscientious blogger would create a link, but I don’t care.

Life as a struggling author is tough, and full of duties and obligations. Today was different though; I fulfilled all those daily tasks by 2:00 p.m. on a sunny and warm Sunday afternoon which allowed me a shopping trip including a visit to the liquor store.

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It should be noted that I mark the return of warm weather with a cocktail we Canadians call a Caesar-made from tomato/clam cocktail, vodka, and spices, including salt, pepper, celery salt, Worchestershire sauce (Did you seriously expect me to spell it right?) and Tobasco sauce. (Ditto.)

I spent TWO magical hours alone with my thoughts (and the booze) in direct sunlight which has always been my drug of choice when I needed to re-energize and refocus. There was a part of me who screamed I should have a book with me or what will the neighbors think? F*ck ’em.

ancient-arched-window-architecture-532902I moved to this neighborhood to be amongst the poor and down-trodden. Granted, houses in this area sell between one and two million dollars, but that does not mean the people here are rich; they just have good credit. As property values have gone from ridiculous to insane while I have been here, it led me to think about the retirees on a fixed income being displaced because they could not keep up with their property taxes as their property’s value exploded, forcing many to take out equity loans just to keep their homes.

After the second drink, I noticed a deep exhalation that I am certain has not been a part of my existence for some time. Some people meditate to accomplish this state-of-being, but I have not been making the time for any spiritual journeys of this nature lately. I am just too damn busy.

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So, about the squirrels . . . Ever notice the squirrel who is busting his (or her) ass (Who can tell?); digging up chestnuts and running across a busy street to bring home the bacon? He/she is unlike the other squirrels who have trained humans to feed them, and who unknowingly have become reliant on their trainees. I respect the hustler’s choice. I hope he/she doesn’t get squished by one of the vehicles travelling much too fast in our school zone.

It occurred to me upon sipping my third drink, I could really use more days like this. This prompted a revised want ad stolen from my book.

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WANTED: A good woman.

  • This old dog is tired and in need of a porch to sleep on.
  • Please send photo of your porch.
  • Applicants with a wrap-around-porch will automatically advance to the next round.
  • A porch swing will score bonus points.
  • If you have both a wrap-around-porch and a boat, you are gold. Please send photo of the boat as well.
  • If your porch overlooks a unicorn ranch, it is important you include this information.

Dinner Update: One part is burnt, and one part is still frozen. Balance is key.

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On to the airplanes-you can’t help but notice them while you are positioned to be face-first into the setting sun in the West, which coincidentally, is also where our airports are, relative to where I live. There are fast-movers, a.k.a. military stuff, at serious altitudes leaving twin contrails. Those are our F-18s. I did however see a fast-mover with a single contrail; I hope we didn’t buy one of those piece of sh*t single engine F-35s.

FYI: The texture of my chicken patties can be best equated with cutting cardboard with your standard cutlery. And again, I don’t care. Two hours of direct sunlight and four cocktails will do that to a person.

My man-bun-daddy neighbor with way too many health issues for his age and I just talked about using some of our more useless neighbors as food when the apocalypse comes. I suggested a barbecue sauce.

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What are the passers-by thinking as they acknowledge my smile, nod, or wave as I sit in my lawn chair basking in the sun? Are they jealous of my leisure time inactivity, or do they think I am hurting property values in the neighborhood? At the moment, I can confidently state I don’t give a flying f*ck about what others think.

One neighbor who regularly parks her car in front of my house chatted about her court day with our street’s bandit parking cop, and how she was kayaking on a river today. She does lead an interesting life.

autumn-beautiful-blur-658945I chatted briefly with my hot neighbor about how confusing this time of year was for her when it came to choosing what to wear. She was in sandals and a sweater coat. I suggested she remove the coat.

I saw some kids playing road hockey while armed with squirt guns. I guess I didn’t get that memo.

Birds chirping; the sounds of motorcycles and children at play; and the guy with saws. Dude, give it a f*cking rest already.

I thought up a killer book idea, but I’ve thought that before . . .

Much can happen in two hours if you go outside to figuratively stop and smell the flowers.

I admit I have been neglecting this blog, but sh*t happens. My Ms. Creant site blog has kept me busy with a ten-ish part series on the book publishing game. If you are a soon-to-be-published author not picked up by the big 5, you would be well-advised to tune in.

It’s now 10:30 p.m. and my nightcap is almost gone.

Ever notice how I only use contractions when I’m drinking?

Talk soon.

A Holiday Message

My present fron Kat

Times are tough.

There is a great deal of uncertainty, at the very least, if not fear or outright paranoia in our world at the moment.

Please try to reign in these thoughts, especially over the holidays.

If you are able to read this on-line, it most likely means you can afford devices and services which connect you to this online world. These are luxuries you should be conscious of. This also implies your immediate security needs of shelter, food, and clothing have also been met. Be grateful for what you have as there are a great many others who are not as fortunate and who will not be able to read this.

The holidays are a time for giving—our way of expressing love, caring and thanks to people we know.

Even strangers sometimes treat us a little better at this time of year. They might smile as they hold a door for us when we have both hands full of shopping bags. Acknowledge these small kindnesses. It’s too easy to be self-absorbed—preoccupied with finishing the damnable shopping so we can jump right back into the hustle and bustle of travelling to parties and family gatherings. We might overlook this tiny kind gesture which is really what this season is about. Seize the moment to look them in the eye, smile, say thank you, and wish them a happy holiday. It might be the only present they receive this year.

The holiday season puts increased demands on our time because of all the commitments we make to family and friends. This causes us to be stressed and possibly irritable. We need to remember that we are fortunate to have those friends and family members with us as many others may not.

Some people will not be able to travel to see their friends and family this year. They may feel very alone. They can change that by volunteering their time to a cause they believe in. Many worthwhile causes do not close during the holidays and spending time with the other volunteers will almost certainly turn into new friendships.

We pick up the holiday spirit by being compassionate. Give some canned goods to the food bank, give some blankets to a shelter or contribute to your local toy drive. The smallest things make a difference in this world. We often forget this. We do not have to solve global warming to improve the planet; the kid who receives your toy this year might be destined to do that, if they are not emotionally scarred by Santa missing their home. This is how we are all connected.

Goodness spreads like a virus through all walks of life, across all religions, and it does not see the colour of someones skin or their gender. By spreading that which we know to be good, we spread hope. The hope we create can alter the path of another, and they in turn influence the 10,000 people they will meet in their lifetime.

I wish to extend my gratitude to all of you who have followed me online—both past and present. To you, and everyone you care about, I wish you a safe and happy holiday season.

E. A.

 

Why do we hurt people who seemingly care about us?

 

This may be yet another middle-aged guy thing.

Recent events have me questioning myself and a new person in my life.

I have too much on my plate, so I deemed it necessary to take a break from social media in order to FOCUS on turning my new place into a home. During this period, I will also be finishing the last round of edits on my manuscript, which I also believe to be a reasonable step. Additionally, it is possible that I have reached the point of exhaustion, as I cannot remember the last time I took even an entire day off or got away from things for a while. In my estimation, taking a break from everyone who can INTERFERE with those goals may not be healthy, yet it seems as though that is what I wish to do.

Attempting to understand what is driving you is never easy.

In my case, I am stressing over MONEY and TIME; but most people have those worries. When I was younger, those things cropped up from time to time but now it seems more frequent. I have had minor health problems and minor injuries that have negatively affected my projected timeline for the COMPLETION of my goals. This is an ongoing nagging FRUSTRATION that has been plaguing me for the last six months. EXPECTATIONS are my problem right now. If you do not have expectations, then you cannot be let down. Life rarely goes as expected, but knowing these words often is not enough to stave off stress.

My VISION of the life that I have been working toward, did not include the possibility of a significant other for reasons that are graphically detailed in my book. Instead, I imagined a life where I would write, travel, lead a healthier lifestyle, and only engage in casual sexual encounters. That is my idea of a SIMPLE PEACEFUL life that would ultimately make me HAPPY. This latest sexy cutie threatens my PLAN, and I have DOUBTS about my ability to meet her long-term needs.

If you allow yourself to stray off course into a relationship, you must have PATIENCE; and patience is something that is in very short supply with me these days.

We all love the feeling of being loved, and we can cling to the new exciting adventure just to keep that feeling. Lately however, I have found myself taking a PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE approach to this wonderful person, as my heart and head wrestle for supremacy. When I am pragmatic, my comments often tear at her fantasy of our future, causing her to be unhappy. I do not like myself when this happens; but it does happen, and quite regularly. There are a great many obstacles in our way, if we were to attempt a serious committed relationship, and I question whether I have the ENERGY or DESIRE to try it one more time. Sometimes, I actually RESENT the intrusion in my life by this beautiful young soul, and we have talked at length about my mixed feelings towards a long-term relationship; yet she PERSISTS, believing that we were brought together for a reason by a divine influence. Her beliefs allow for her to construct a happily ever after story that she is pursuing RELENTLESSLY. Anyone that reads my stuff knows that I do not believe in such things, so her ideology bothers me as well. I all too often view her caring interest as a DISRUPTION due to her INCESSANT need for communication that I view as unnecessary blathering via telephone or text.

I know that I am someone whose singular FOCUS allows me to COMPLETE things.

I know that I may have unrealistic EXPECTATIONS, and I am trying to make a conscious effort to swim with the current more often.

I know that my PLAN for a SIMPLE PEACEFUL life may get lonely or tiresome but should I not at least try it?

I know I am not PERFECTLY happy, but can a perfectionist ever truly be? I would like to find out though.

I know that my PATIENCE is directly tied to my stress level and I must get better at managing stress.

I know that my planned lifestyle changes will improve my ENERGY level.

I know that my internal CONFLICT will persist until I either commit or withdraw from this relationship.

I am very conscious of the fact that I am not being FAIR in this relationship.

I would MISS her if she was no longer in my life.

There is a fine line between doing what you know is best for yourself, and being selfish or narcissistic.

My book:

Ms. Creant: The Wrong Doers!

Life with Women: the long awaited instruction manual.

Talks of relationships, health, life, biology, philosophy, sociology, theology, genetics- even physics as well as how HOW SEVERELY DAMAGED THE AUTHOR IS.

I hope your biggest problem is that someone cares about you.

E. A.

So What Is Mid-Life?

Another birthday has arrived. They are coming faster it seems.

A writer in his late forties shares a little too much.

At this point, I am well into mid-life and spend a great deal of time dealing with issues that ONLY people of my age can relate to. Younger people should read this however, as ALL this stuff is just around the corner for you, and it will be here faster than you can imagine.

My book explores the subject of MANOPAUSE nicely, so I will refrain from being repetitive. Instead, in this post, I will explore the tragic comedy of my personal situation.

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Your birthday should be a time to be a little introspective but do not obsess or be unhappy about your circumstances just because another year has passed.

Just like having an old house, MAINTENANCE seems to consume more of your time these days if you want to remain attractive to the opposite sex. However, you do realize that you will eventually reach a point where the ones you are attracted to will view you as TOO OLD. That scares me. The upside of that day arriving, is that you will be able to let much of the maintenance slide.

Mirrors are your enemy!

My advice is to reduce the size of them or remove them from your place altogether.

If you are not ready to make that move, then you will have to face what appears there on a daily basis and do what you can about it.

The pessimist within, looks at my body in the mirror after getting out of the shower and notices that my mid-section has a layer of fat that was not present in my thirties. My pectorals need work but that is do-able. A little more walking or sex and I can shed some lbs. and tone my midriff up… some. The optimist within, realizes that I still have a better body than half of the guys out there that are still in their thirties, so I have that going for me. Most of those guys are chasing women in their twenties anyway, which leaves women in their thirties and early forties more readily available and vulnerable to my intellectual stimulation tactics.

Rogue hairs are showing up everywhere.

F. S. H. (follicle stimulating hormones) are present in guys too.

The pessimist within says this is a real sign of old age being just around the corner. The optimist within realizes that a razor and tweezers are all that are required to make the problem go away so you can continue to live in denial for another week or so.

Grey hair has been an issue for me since I was in my thirties. My Nazi dominatrix hair-dresser insisted on eliminating them back then and has been doing so ever since. I don’t dare disappoint the mistress. The pessimist within, notices that my beard is about 50/50- salt vs. pepper now, but it can be colored as well. The optimist within reminds me that there are plenty of guys in their thirties that are losing their hair while I maintain a healthy full head of hair. Additionally, my grey is confined to only those two places… so far.

Your libido is not what it once was.

THANK GOD!

I remember getting hard with every slight breeze, sexy picture or beautiful woman that I came across. It was a very unproductive time in my life. The pessimist within notices, that I can sometimes go a couple of days without wanting sex. The optimist within me sees this as an opportunity to get stuff done.

Middle-age forces you to consider your mortality.

Your health will be noticed more often now.

The pessimist within looks back over this past year and remembers back issues, joint pain, a few colds or flu’s that seemed to linger, too much coughing and head congestion due to anything but my nicotine addiction (Denial, denial, denial.) and a fortunately short- relatively minor bout with the shingles virus. The optimist within realizes that it could have been much worse. My cardiovascular system is still quite good despite the abuse and I see many younger people in far worse shape than myself.

My Dentist and I will develop a new friendship due to my paying him far more regularly now. Smoking, sugar, wine among other things have wreaked havoc with my once white smile, but as my grandmother often said: “At least I still have all my teeth.” I did loosen one recently and that has me a little worried.

My energy level is at an all time low but I have discovered napping and really enjoy it.

You must fight off the urge to be critical.

You were incredibly “young and dumb” too.

It does not help that your patience is at an all time low, but if you are conscious of yourself, you can pretend that you still have the thick skin you once had. Every time I want to take a strip off someone younger than myself, I flash back to what I was doing at their age and it helps me to keep my mouth shut… most of the time.

My book:

Ms. Creant: The Wrong Doers!

Life with Women: the long awaited instruction manual.

Talks of relationships, health, life, biology, philosophy, sociology, theology, genetics- even physics as well as how YOUR ATTITUDE AND GRATITUDE WILL KEEP YOU YOUNGER LONGER.

Enjoy your birthdays… there may not be that many left.

Be as young as you can, for as long as you can.

E. A.

I am salmon. Hear me gurgle? Part 1

What if awareness and obliviousness are related?

What if the oblivious automatons were created with a subconscious awareness that life in a bubble is infinitely happier? This would explain why it is so difficult to pull them outside of their happy place.

Why do I persist in swimming against the current?

Did I chose the wrong electives in the human trait lineups prior to being born?

There are some words I recently posted on my Facebook page as a reminder to myself that I am obviously not as wise as I would like to think.

“God, grant me the SERENITY to accept the things I cannot change, the COURAGE to change the things I can and the WISDOM to know the difference.”

Known by some as “The Serenity Prayer”, these wonderful words were written by a theologian named Reinhold Niebuhr.

This brings me to my first problem.

I CANNOT ACCEPT I CANNOT CHANGE THINGS!

Nothing remains the same. Change is a part of nature. Evolution and entropy prove this. Everything is in a state of change; except it seems . . . us.

Being aware sucks!

In my next life I am shooting for oblivious because it looks as though all the bubble-dwelling ostriches seem much happier than I am. My personal hell was created partially by my choices and partially by genetics. The choice part is I maintain perpetual hope for humanity. As such, I have EXPECTATIONS for humans which are almost never met, and still I continue to fight the good fight”. I do not know why. It is my nature. Someone once said, and it may have been me:

“If you do not have ANY expectations, then people cannot let you down.”

I believe the underlying message here is you must be self-reliant, self-assured, self-aware etc. These are good “self” words—not on the same list with self-obsessed, self-serving, or self-indulgent.

This brings me to my next problem: I do not believe one individual can change the world; it will take a massive team effort which will force us to EXPECT things from others once again.

It is a paradox.

Humanity as we know it cannot survive without an unprecedented level of cooperation from its fractured and divided membership.

I was born with the ability to learn and retain both useful knowledge and the ridiculously trivial. A short time ago, I was in my car with a friend talking about The Monkeys song I’m a Believer when to my amazement, I discovered I could remember the names of all four members of the band and the instruments they played after more than forty years. This from a middle-aged guy who regularly walks into a room and does not remember what prompted him to be there. I am inquisitive by nature, endlessly asking questions and thirsting for knowledge without, it seems, any control over what will be stored in permanent memory. The human brain is fascinating.

“Youth is wasted on the young.”

School was too easy for me. I found it incredibly boring so I rarely went; yet somehow I managed to just scrape through. My sister by comparison, worked incredibly hard for her average grades, and I could not understand why she found learning difficult. It seems that as intellectually capable as I was, I was not that AWARE. I ASSUMED every human had it as easy as I did. This is yet another character flaw I would carry throughout my young life.

In my teens and early twenties I lived to party. Sex, drugs, alcohol, and Rock & Roll music were my regular escape from reality—a reality I am all too aware of now. I was oblivious but happy.

At twenty-five, I had to clean up my act, cut my hair, and put on a business suit to work with many people who were consummate professionals, and who, on the surface at least, appeared to be my intellectual equals. Almost all had a University degree of some kind so I LEAPT TO THE CONCLUSION they were intelligent people. I did however begin to notice how they frequently “dropped the ball through, what I ASSUMED was, inefficiency, a lack of vision, planning, and/or organization. I could see patterns emerging that would lead to problems for them both professionally and personally, but for some reason they did not seem to see these indicators until things reached the crisis point.

I recalled a physics law which states:

“For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.”

I was applying this to the humans I met. They would take action without considering the possible outcomes. This is where I became conscious of the fact I had inadvertently become an  student of human nature. I began in earnest to study people while hitting the books to learn about human behavior.

Pre-destination?

In no time, I was becoming keenly aware of the actions and reactions of others while remaining completely and happily OBLIVIOUS that I too had a subconscious program running. I would remain this way until my early forties when I would finally get around an exploration of self where I discovered I had PATTERNS of my own.

The various academic disciplines all have different view-points about how our being is developed. Psychologists and sociologists believe, initially, we are a blank slate and we learn our behavioural patterns as we mature. Geneticists and the brain sciences see us as little more than the sum of our genetic and chemical health. Theologians believe a soul is placed in a human body by a deity. Spiritualists believe we are part of something bigger, a “cosmic being” if you will. Not one of these disciplines has unlocked the truth of the human mind, and some have been at it for hundreds of years. The truth is most likely an amalgam of all of them.

The CONSEQUENCES of my own actions allowed me to write a book and change career paths in mid-life. “The jury is still out” as to whether or not that brave move was a good idea. Did I lead my life according to a plan programmed into my being just so I would arrive at this point—to supply the world with a book encouraging readers to become more aware? I hope not as this makes me feel used, manipulated, and diminished—little more than a character in a “SIM” game—just entertainment for some advanced intelligence, the universe, or whatever.

Reincarnation and or karma:

Somewhere along the line, and I know not where, I picked up a personal philosophy I will share.

We are here to learn lessons, and we will continue to return to this existence until we learn those lessons.

I have had many precognitive events in my life to date suggesting:

1) I have lived these events before.

2) I have a some kind of disorder encouraging me to believe I have seen these events in advance.

3) I have subconsciously imagined ALL the possible outcomes of my actions, and when in a semi-conscious state, I occasionally glimpse a few of them. Later my conscious mind interprets this as actual memories.

I am good with 1 or 3.

Blogus interruptus . . . continued next week.

Have a good week and be brave enough to take notice of something going on in the world around you.