Say what you want about God and or praying to him.
But God and prayers were there for me when I had nothing and no one else to turn to.
I recently saw this tweet:
It's called biology. A Parisian looks different than an Arab Muslim. https://t.co/H8UOVGGgOt
— Wife with a Purpose (@apurposefulwife) November 22, 2015
Which was in response to ScarletLetter’s tweet below.
@apurposefulwife and also going off on the original statement, how does that Parisian women's know what a Muslim person looks like. 😑
— ScarletLetter (@SizzyLand) November 22, 2015
And I thought about it. People make arguments about how the races are biologically different and therefore more susceptible to different diseases, for example, how blacks tend to be more vulnerable to developing sickle cell anemia. But surely there’s more to biological differences than just that…
Anonymous Conservative, with his theory of r/K selection posits that biological differences account for differences in political leanings, even within the same race.
What if genetics have a say on much more? Class? Low class? Upper class? Happiness or misery? Melancholy or whininess?
It makes sense to me that Christianity appeals to people, for the concept of redemption.
It also makes sense to me that biological realities are anathema to some people because they’re condemned with their lot in life. They just won’t change. And people will recognize that and give them that which they deserve.
In my mind, the idea of racial differences and biological differences is not what is truly scary to some people. It’s implications of such beyond what you first see. Cats that you can’t stuff back in the bag.
I recently read a disgusting article from Huffington Post:
The basic premise of the story is simple. Woman meets man. They marry. They have kids. Somehow she’s still not haaaaaaaappy.
A year ago, I was THAT mom — the one who seemed to have it all together, who had it all in some ways: two beautiful boys, a nice home, a good man and father to our kids. I cooked the meals and coordinated professional family photos, planned vacations, sent out Christmas cards, etc. I had a rigid schedule but made time to run and managed to be in decent physical shape.
But something was missing. In my marriage, I felt alone. Why wasn’t I happy?
I met my ex when I was seventeen. He was four years older than me and I was smitten. He had a job, a truck, and a house. He had it all together. We got along great so dating him while I was in college seemed like the right thing to do. And of course, after college the next step was marriage, right?
He was a hard worker and provided stability throughout the marriage. We had two beautiful boys and all seemed well — or was it?
After having our second child, I started to feel different. I hated the person I was and the wife and mother I had become. I did not feel good enough and I felt incredibly alone. I was unhappy.
I am learning to love myself and I am becoming a better mother because of it. I am now 30 and a single mom of two awesome kids. Am I lonely? Yes. But that is ok. I have learned so much about myself over the last 12 months I now know I deserve happiness and will not settle for anything less.
Something I noticed in this article? Complete lack of consideration of the kids, besides the cursory mention to emphasize how weird it was that she wasn’t happy despite having it all.
I’ve met one woman who told me her life dream was to have a family. This is not the first time she’s impressed me. She’s certainly not trying to, and it’s certainly not that impressive. But I was impressed nonetheless, because she’s the only woman I’ve met who’s expressed that, at my age.
A woman’s happiness should be her family.
The more women there are whose happiness is such, the less women who would throw it all away there will be.
I remember reading something about Taoism and how Eastern Philosophers were different to Western Philosophers in that the main apparent difference between the two was their attitude towards their students – namely – Western ones exhorted their students to follow their examples. Eastern Philosophers, on the other hand, often told their students “don’t follow me”. *
I believe the point of the second was that in the end, no student truly was the teacher. Following exact methods would therefore not produce the same results. Instead, students were encouraged to own their newfound knowledge and make it their own. What do I mean by that?
I mean that at some point the student has to take off the training wheels and become an autodidact. At some point, they have to come up with their own ideas. Using someone else’s can only take you so far. Let this not be an attack against using someone else’s ideas, however. Newton himself, the father of modern calculus (along with another, less well known fellow), once said:
If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.
If you take the metaphor of a house, I encourage you to build upon a foundation that those who came before you have laid down. In time, your work, combined with your predecessors, will be a new foundation, upon which the next generation will build.
Don’t follow me.
* I could have remembered wrongly. I remain the right to be completely full of shit at any time. You have the right to remind me.
At this point in my life, I can’t help but evaluate potential dates for potential wife and mother qualities. I also can’t help but imagine what kind of family life I’d have, and how I’d want to raise my kids. Most of my thoughts are inspired by my own family life, especially when I was a lot younger. Hypothetically, we’ll assume I have four kids; two boys and two girls. We’ll also assume that I picked my wife and mother of my children well, as ideally, not only am I am the man I hope my sons to be, but my wife should be the woman I hope my daughters to be.
So, without further ado, and in no particular order – some of my thoughts:
Bedtime. I know how crucial it is to get proper sleep and the harmful effect lack of sleep can have on a person. I remember seeing well rested cadets at the beginning of their four years change a lot at the end of one year. I saw even more change in my peers as they graduated. Lack of sleep kills, slowly.
So as my children go from diapers to being little children to teenagers, I’d set them a constant bed time and a constant wake up time. I’m not sure whether I’d set them up for 8 or 10 hours, but 8 hours would be the minimum. They’d be encouraged (my daughters especially) to not be night owls. Should they find themselves as teenagers with a boatload of work, I’d see myself as having been effective in my guidance, should they elect to go to bed earlier and to wake up earlier to get their work done, instead of the opposite. While my children will be expected to accept their bed time because I said so, I’ll explain at some point I find appropriate why 8 hours of sleep is important. And how it will allow my boys to grow stronger than Superman and allow my daughters to grow pretty enough to marry Prince Charming.
Then, when it’s Christmas Eve and they can’t sleep because they’re so excited – I might have a chance that they’ll actually sleep in, too tired to wake up after going to bed several hours later than normal.
Ideally, I’d want to have both regular family breakfast and dinner. Before I lived overseas, breakfast was slightly irregular, but we always had family dinner. When I moved overseas, we had family breakfast about as much as we had family dinner. I’ll focus on family dinner.
I believe it’s important to have consistency in the household and that means that dinner should be at the same time every night. Something around 1700hrs every night – maybe a little later (1800hrs) depending on my work. Dinner will be home cooked every time – no microwave crap. I’d make the effort to buy the most healthy food possible (organic, paleo) even if it costs a little extra. If I had the land, I’d even invest in growing our own crops and raising chickens (maybe a cow) that my children would have an understanding and appreciation of where their food comes from and what is in it.
Cast iron skillets. Grill (charcoal/propane). Full fat butter. Coconut oil.
Proper manners at the table will be taught and reinforced.
Family dinner will be a time to catch up on everyone’s day, to keep tabs on my children, and generally talk about things they find interesting or I think important to talk about.
When my family lived in England, we used to play scrabble once a week. I’d rarely win but I always had fun. Before my family had that practice, we’d watch many movies at home together. Often, my father would pause the movie right before a critical moment and ask me what I would do or what should be done. Other times, he’d pause the movie and ask me what happened and why. Almost every movie there was a lesson. Such lessons often made me enjoy the movie a lot more. Usually there was a movie that stuck with the family, that led to inside jokes for us.
“Stop rhyming! I mean it!”
“Anybody wanna peanut?”
“Oh Master Robin!…..You’ve lost your arms in battle! But you grew some nice boobs”
“Blinkin, I’m over here.”
So one day a week, presumably Sundays, we’ll have a family game night. We’ll play checkers, risk, monopoly, life, cards, and chess. Each of those games takes time to learn to play and to play well. Each of those games can teach you something (especially chess). I’ll let my kids win sometimes but not too often. Provided that they learn quickly, I expect they’ll be better at these games than I will be before they leave the house. We’ll watch movies. Probably old ones. We’ll make it a game to see what lesson will I come up with next. Little will my children know, each lesson I will know because my Father already taught me.
I’ll take trips where it will be just us boys. I expect my wife to do similar things with our daughters.
Chores will be centered around traditional roles and used to cement good habits and teach skills. At first they’ll be simple, but as my children grow older they’ll be taught more and have more expected of them.
My daughters will be expected to set the table and clear the table every day. Their mother will teach them how to sew (and help mend the clothes in the family). She’ll teach them how to cook and other homemaking skills, such as ironing, folding clothes, and doing laundry. She’ll teach my boys to cook also.
My boys will be taught how to cook steak by me, how to cut firewood, how to work on cars, and various other handyman type things around the house that I know. They’ll take out the trash every week
Once a month, once I’m satisfied that no one will burn the house down in the process, I’ll have each of my children cook family dinner. They’ll pick the food, the ingredients, and at first, may enlist help. But by the time they’re around 16, I expect that they’ll be able to do it all by themselves if need be.
My boys of course will know how to iron, fold clothes, do laundry as well – but it won’t be their main chores. The need to know how to maintain their nice clothes, naturally.
The Birds and The Bees:
I won’t wait for my children to discover porn or learn half-truths at best and outright lies at worst during sex ed (assuming I even let them into the schooling system). At some point, I’ll have this conversation with my boys. At some point, I expect my wife to have this conversation with my girls.
In a general sense, I’d try to teach my boys some lessons on how to deal with girls. More than focus on things they should do, I’d focus on telling them things not to do. I’d be open with examples from my life, but generally would focus on having them realize the importance of learning from their mistakes and enjoying the whole process along the way. I’d tell’em I’d kick their asses if they get any girls pregnant and let them know about different methods of birth control. I’d encourage them to get enough experience to figure out what they need to about girls, that they’ll be appropriately discriminating when picking their brides. I’ll tell them I expect lots of grandchildren.
In a general sense, I’d let my wife teach my girls lessons since she speaks their language, and probably knows what she is doing since she married me. I’d encourage my daughters to get married to a quality man, who can support them and their children, and to keep themselves chaste until then. I’d do what I can to help them maximize their looks and their personalities accordingly.I’d let their mother figure out how to explain the ‘violence’ she’d exact on any of them if they got pregnant without being married. I’d figuratively beat it into them yearly that if they wish to marry ‘prince charming’, they must themselves be a woman he’d marry. I’ll tell them I expect lots of grandchildren.
I hope that at some point, my family will have a family gathering at least once a year. My children will know what their family is made of. They will know their cousins. They will know my siblings, their aunts and uncles. And most importantly, they will know my parents. I didn’t just get to where I was without them, and I’ll make sure my children never forget that. I’ll do that because it honors my parents and because my grandparents, were responsible in a large part, for my happy childhood.
General Family Philosophy (brief, very beginning thoughts):
My family is one that I’m proud to be a part of. Most of the members of my family are really smart, strong, or have other talent. We’ve got good genes and good people. I intend for my children to know that and believe. I would not go so far as to give my children superiority complexes – I just want them to know where they came from and be unapologetically proud of it. That said – I’ll temper that with the idea that I think blood is important. I don’t intend to follow ancient royals who had rampant inbreeding. I do want my children to consider the health of future wives and husbands, and the quality of said future spouses’ families.
One of the tenets my father stressed is that we’re a team. So I’d be mad at one of my son’s if he didn’t back my other son up in a fight. Same with my daughters (making sure they’re included in groups and have social status). I expect each child to help one another grow, not to tear each other down. Competition between each other is good to an extent, but the ultimate goal is to all succeed together.
Family is different. Regardless of internal discipline, when it comes down to my children and the outside world, they will know I will love them and be on their side, always.
“How do you calm a mind that never sleeps?
Constantly abuzz like the New York streets,
Always searching, sifting, calculating,
Finding meaning in the most minute of details,
Especially if those details are meaningless,
Especially if they aren’t.
My mind calculates way less than it used to,
There’s much less it needs to do,
Experience has installed a spam filter.”
This morning a large weight has been lifted off my shoulders, both literally and figuratively.
Last night I lay in bed by 2000hrs but couldn’t sleep until 2100 and even then I woke up several times throughout the night. I dreamt of various scenarios of going back in time and changing things, typical of the last twenty four weeks. The last six months, you could say, have been an ordeal of sorts. Finishing college, mother having a stroke over 3,000 miles away, my report date moved up 8 months early, losing a girlfriend, my car breaking down on me (still in the shop, in fact), disappointing my father time and time again…Finding myself spending a short spell in jail had me contemplating the six figures of life insurance I’d be worth to my Dad and ailing mother if I had just stopped breathing. As I went from failure to failure, finding it hard get myself off my own ass to save myself, the future looked more and more grim.
Thinking I’d lose my job and land myself in six figures of debt, learning I wouldn’t, and then learning I might, over and over again set me on quite the emotional roller coaster. My thoughts oscillated between blissful ignorance and the morbid. Some things, I thought, like failure, hurt forever. Other things, however, would only hurt for the rest of your life.
Three weeks ago, I found out right before I took a 4-day pass that the 8 mile diagnostic ruck I had gone on, and failed by 30 minutes (I had 2 hours to complete 8 miles with a rucksack) was not in fact a diagnostic. Before me lay a paper saying that it was the beginning of a 45 day period I had to pass a 12 mile ruck at the same pace (12 miles in 3 hours). Failure meant separation from the army. It suddenly occurred to me that the existential crisis I had twice avoided was only 31 days away. Except that I didn’t even get the 31 days – I only got 21.
A week flew by and I passed a 6 mile ruck with 2 minutes and 54 seconds to spare, the only real good news I had had in months. The 8 mile I was scheduled to take was cancelled and the sleep I was supposed to recover on the weekends, after losing it to details and preparation for court, I lost to drink.
Then it was the week of the 12 mile and Wednesday night came quicker than I had wanted.
I woke up still groggy after barely 7 hours of sleep. I put on my uniform, put on my brand new boots, loaded my ruck in my buddy’s car. As soon as I hit the boot to the one mile long track, I silently accepted it.
This is gonna hurt.
P.S. For comparison:
Sept 24 – Eight Mile Ruck in 2 hours (My time = 2 hours 30 minutes)
Oct 8 – Six Mile Ruck in 1 hour 30 minutes (My time = 1 hour 58 minutes 6 seconds)
Oct 29 – Twelve Mile Ruck in 3 hours (My time = 2 hours 40 minutes)
Dear Thought Criminal with whom I had a brief fling,
I just wanted to thank you for a few things.
You see, at first you were just a girl on OKC. You weren’t a smokeshow – but you were cute enough in your pictures and calling yourself a European nationalist really caught my attention. I didn’t quite grasp the gravity of your views when we spoke and met – but I did eventually realize that you were a different breed than the norm in today’s world. You’re the only female thought criminal I’ve ever known. You had politically incorrect views, wanted to be a wife, and mother to white babies. You gave me a few new ideas and introduced me to a few more sources of information that I hadn’t previously considered. And you looked better in person than your pictures, at 5’0″.
When you broke it off without a word – I was actually pretty disappointed. I knew it had to end because it wouldn’t last due to circumstances, but I didn’t have the heart to say so.
When I texted you, a little over a year later, I was surprised that you’d reply back at all. I figured you had broke it off because you discovered I had a girlfriend or got tired of my non-committal ways. When you told me you were tired of disrespecting yourself, and found yourself the man you want to marry and have children with, I was…impressed…and thankful for the closure.
I’ve made a partial realization that if I’m to marry – my wife ought to be a thought criminal like myself, if not open to conversion by my own words. Secondly – you hammered home the importance of her wanting to be a wife and mother. Seeing the way you looked at me, and later a small glimpse at how you look at your future father of your children – I’ve got yet another better picture of how the future mother of my children should act and look.
Finally, thank you for those two separate days, on which your curves (and more) burned themselves into my memory.
I wish you and yours all the best,
Hat tip to Ace – for the last line is his and the basis of this short poem, that I made for someone.
Fear of Heights
It’s the human condition,
To need a mountain to climb, to desire to ascend the most perilous heights,
And at the same time,
It’s perfect normal, to have a fear of heights,
Because even Angels have fallen.”