Tag Archives: Reflections

A Change in Attitude and the Soft Catalogue

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I’ve noticed a little change in my thinking this year. When I first got to my school – my thought was no messing with the girls here. Get caught messing around on campus, one could get suspended and or lose privileges. If you’re especially unlucky, the lass may elect to save herself – by throwing you under the bus with a false accusation.

One girl, who is (thankfully) no longer here, apparently gave in north of forty names in order to save her own bacon.

I thought my attitude would never change – but now my attitude has changed to “Opposed to Dating, not fucking”. This must be due to lack of options (got a girl in hometown – but nothing to write home about). In theory dating here leads to complications with school life and fucking should not – but because I know more now, I know that fucking can do the same thing if you are not careful or don’t know what you’re doing.

Now I walk around constantly, subconsciously editing a soft catalogue (probably nothing new to anbody in the manosphere) of girls of interest. I took up this habit to get over a girl I liked in high school quicker (replace dead/defective puppy with more/better puppies).

What I mean is that I am making snap judgement on who I would bang and monitoring interactions with them in my head. Nothing is on purpose per say – but my brain seems to be preparing myself to seize upon opportunities as they present themselves. I’m sure this is how many a player runs into trouble – he shits where he eats because he’s still in the “getting experience” stage.

Now in my situation – dating is looked down upon by a lot of the corps. It is also can present hazard if you date someone in a position of power, or you are someone in a position of power yourself. You got to navigate bureaucracy, the social climate, and the human condition itself. The best way to win the game is to not play and go for girls outside of school.

The part that makes things interesting is that I  am completely aware of all the pieces that affect the picture – both red pill and blue.

The question is, do I play the game because I know the complete picture in terms of risks? Or do my damnedest to keep out of the game because I know what’s at stake if I get short straw on the losing end.

In the meantime – the soft catalogue hums along.

~Wald

On Slapping Women

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I read Jean-Luc LeGame‘s posts on slapping women a while back and was intrigued by his conclusion that women respond positively to being slapped.

Through personal experience, I could see how girls would enjoy being slapped on the ass but I could not wrap my head around how they would enjoy getting slapped in the face.

I was raised to never hit girls and so even the idea of slapping a girl on the ass used to be a stretch for me. Luckily I got over that, but I always imagined I would receive the worst in retaliation if I ever slapped a girl in the face.

I tried nonetheless to buck my programming and took up the attitude that I believe in equality. That is to say, if a bitch slapped me, I’d slap her right back. Hard. Even alluding to that belief has helped me with girls. Still, I was afraid that one day I’d have to face the music and actually slap a girl to put her back in line. I was afraid that when that moment came, I would be unable to do it and I would be exposed as a pussy.

However, when the time came, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. In fact, it was exciting.

When I was in Germany, there was a girl I met who I hooked up with after two days. I could tell she liked me when I first met her because she touched me a lot, asked me a lot of personal questions, and punched my arm lightly when I made jokes. A week later, when she came over to “watch” Two and Half Men, she slapped me in the face as a joke and I promptly slapped her back. It was a light slap, but she looked at me with what I can only describe as a mixture of shock and arousal. Her mouth was open and she was wide-eyed.

“Why did you do that? You should never hit a girl.”

“Why did you slap me? You slap me, I slap you back.”

‘But I am a girl, you shouldn’t hit girls.”

“Bullshit. You guys fought for equality and now you got it. Deal with it.”

“I don’t want you to ever hit me again.”

“Then don’t slap me, because that’s what you get.”

Next thing I know she is getting cuddly with me and tells me she can’t have sex with me for a week. At first I didn’t get the hint and called shenanigans. When I finally understood, I told her she had nice big lips. She told me that was the first compliment I ever gave her. I then told her that I thought her big lips would look nice, wrapped around my cock. She agreed.

Moral of the story?

Get a back bone and slap your women.

~Wald

P.S. Jean-Luc LeGame’s posts on Slapping Women:

Part 1 / Part 2

Mortality

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I’m sure everyone has a moment in their life where it hits them that they are not immortal and will leave this mortal coil, sometime or another.

It can be the death of one’s parents, one’s comrade in battle, witnessing cruelty inflicted upon the unfortunate who find themselves in the wrong places at the wrong times, or any number of things.

The death of a friend so soon after high school was shocking at first. But before my very eyes I have evidence of how short life is, and how important it is not to waste what time I might, or might not have.

In memory of my friend, I will write one post every day this week until Saturday the 30th of June, a week after his body was discovered by the police.

~Wald

Just the Way it Was

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Reflecting upon my earlier post I thought of examples that illustrate what I was trying to get across.

I remember discussing with my older sister about frivolous lawsuits years ago when she mentioned that there are no diving boards in the U.S. state of Virginia. When I asked why, she explained that too many people had jumped off the diving board and hurt themselves. People would then sue the pools. When pools put up signs that explained proper use, they were still getting sued. Eventually pools got rid of diving boards all together.

Young as I was, I could still tell that it was stupid that people were suing pools for endangering them when it was they, the people themselves, misusing the equipment. I imagine plenty of those lawsuits were encouraged by zealous parents, who convinced their spawn could do no wrong, did what they could to “make swimming pools [the world] a safer place for their kids”.

When I was in high school, in the international dorm, there was a food committee that I was a part of. The purpose of the food committee was to give the dorm perspective of cafeteria food, in order to improve it, seeing as dormers had to eat cafeteria food for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. There was no question about it. Dorm food was horrible. I even joked with the cafeteria staff when I went up to get my meal by asking for different types of poison.

“I would like some chicken poison with an extra helping of the poison gravy to wash it down.”

“Ha! I am still alive. Clearly, you had no made your food poisonous enough, for I am still here.”

“I hope you made this poison extra strong tonight. I really would prefer if I died and didn’t have to eat this crap any more.”

The cafeteria staff would laugh with me as they filled up my plate. I eventually got the feeling that the food committee wasn’t doing anything to improve the food. In my mind, it just gave the illusion that dormers had some say in their food so that when people complained, the cafeteria staff could tell the complainers to submit their complaints to the food committee. I later learned, at the end of my senior year, that one of the house parents was kicked off the food committee because she made too many complaints.

The food was bad in military school. The food was bad in high school. The food still sucks in university.

In theory, my university deals with the nation’s finest, and therefore, should offer food worthy of their palate. Yet I see the opposite. The nation’s finest are fed with the nation’s worst. Recycled from yesterday or yester-year, it does not matter, it is not good for you.

The worst part is that is appears as if the people behind those examples think you don’t notice. They think you are too stupid to figure it out. They act as if nothing is going on.

My generation is known as generation 0. A generation of slackers, lay-abouts, and underachievers. A generation without hope or a future.

Maybe we’re Generation 0 because one day we’re going to reset the clock. Until then, I’ll act as if nothing is going on.

~Wald

Reflections: On Authority

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I was raised by my father to respect and obey authority. His word was law. If I did not eat my peas…WHACK! I ate my peas. If I drew on the wall again after he told me verbally not to….WHACK! I never wrote on the wall again (or at least I stretched out the times I drew on the wall farther and farther until I stopped).

The interesting part, is that sometimes, I despise authority.

When I was in 2nd grade, I went to a catholic school run by nuns. There I became disillusioned with Catholicism or rather, Catholiscm became disillusioned with me. When I was in religion class, I asked a lot of questions. I had heard all of the stories they told me about Jesus before, so I got bored. I would contradict them and ask why this and why that. They went to my parents about the matter and eventually had me removed from religion class. I was supposed to get my confirmation, but they took me out of the class because I was bored and started playing around. From this, I saw that people don’t like their authority questioned, and they lash out. Looking at it now, I see the whole thing as petty.

When I was in 1st and 2nd grade at that school, I got picked on. Most of the time, my older sister cover my rear, so I was fine. It was that big of a deal. The year after second grade, I went to a different school and didn’t come back until 5th grade. This time, one of my best friends turned on me. He would walk across the courtyard during recess just to pick on me. He would pick on me in class. When I told the teacher about it, she just told him to stop. He would stop for a minute and then resume. When I told my parents about it, my Dad was going to teach me how to beat my “friend” up. But then my parents sent me to military school. They told me it was to help me with my grades, because I lacked the discipline to do homework (but had smarts to do well on test) and it was to help toughen me up. Looking back on all that, getting picked on was not bad at all. But at the time I thought it sucked. Even in military school, I saw interesting things. My roommate, picked on me all the time. He was at least two years older, bigger than me, stronger than me, and  was liked by all the staff. When I almost got kicked out of military school for how I was handling the bullying and get picked on, he was almost completely untouched by the whole thing, because all of the staff could not believe he would do such a thing as pick on me. I remember he was picking on me in class. I said, “Goddamit X! Fucking stop it.” The teacher told him to stop and yelled at me for my outburst.

What I learned from all that was that I could not trust people in positions of authority to fix my problems for me. Nowadays I don’t care if someone tries to pick on me or call me names. But if somebody starts hitting me, he better be a better fighter than I am. Otherwise I will react by beating him senseless. The good news is that I never got into a fight all of high school. I think I exuded this mind set in my body language so that nobody ever wanted to fuck with me (that and they called me military man because I went to military school).

In high school, something changed. I did not automatically give every teacher who taught me respect, just because they were my teacher. I remember in ninth grade, I had a fat history teacher. Something about his personality, whether it was his jokes, or attempt to be cool, or establish authority when he lacked the gravitas set me off. My first day at high school and in his class, he asked everyone to introduce themselves and tell him what our favorite candy. When it was my turn, I said, “Hell if I know.” He asked me if that was a good candy and if not, raising his voice, he said something to the effect of, I should watch my language and be respectful. At that point, I saw him as a joke. I joked around with him class all year long, alternating between laughing at him and laughing with him so he was never sure what I was trying to do. I told him loudly in October that he should dress up as Peter Griffin from Family Guy for Halloween. He was not sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. I meant it as an insult but pretended I was complimenting him. Everyone in the class laughed and knew what I was doing.

It was no better when we had substitute teachers (subs). In fact, it was worse. There was this sub, who I’ll call Miss D.. Miss D. was an Indian sub who was famous for telling “her students” to rub their stomachs and pat their heads simultaneously in order to calm themselves down. I could tell right away from meeting her that she couldn’t teach. I once had an English class with her. I toyed with her and when she finally understood I was making fun of her, she told me to go outside….which was exactly what I wanted. Outside of class I finished the assignment the teacher left behind quickly and started listening to music on my iPhone loudly so that people in the class could hear me. She came outside, saw me laying on the ground with my hands behind my back and told me to turn the music off and come back inside. All my friends enjoyed hearing that story.

My junior year, I had an AP English who could not teach. She gave out easy As and her quizzes were jokes. But she could not teach. Sometimes she would ramble on and on and on and on. I made a game of how much I could distract her from class or argue with her on things I didn’t agree with. I often got in many arguements with her. I often made fun of her. I often joked with her. And just to cover my bases and confuse her even more, I apologized once when I felt I went too far. We became “friends” and I even got her to write me good college recommendations. People, including me, complained that they were not learning anything. I think the school asked her not to come back next year.

I learned to dislike incompetence in authority. If I felt a teacher was less competent than I was, I thought she didn’t deserve to be a teacher. As I was getting older, I was realizing that adults are not the infallible creatures I thought they were.

Looking back on it, it looks as if I could sense a teacher had no authority, I would rip them to shreds. Why do I have to listen to her, I thought. She’s just a substitute teacher. She can’t teach. Why I am here?

When I was in the dorm, I got in trouble for telling a friend about what happened to me in military school. He got scared and told the school. Long story short, I got counseled, was ordered to go to a psychologist for a year a half. Part of the reason why I stayed the school was because one of dorm house parents (people who live within the dorm who teach or run the dorm) put in a good word for me. I made a point to always be friendly with the house parents, joke around with them, and tell them the truth. That way, if I really needed to lie or got in trouble, I could away with it. I started doing this with teachers as well my sophomore year, unless I sensed that the teacher was weak.

I almost always challenge authority and ask questions of people who want me to do things, especially if I do not like the tasks or things they demand of me. My respect is earned, not taken from me.

I feel like what I do to people in authority is similar to what girls do to guys (shit-tests anyone?)

~Wald

Reflections: Military School and the Purple Pill

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I went to military boarding school in the U.S. for three years during middle school. My parents told me they me sent me there because I was intelligent, but lazy, and my messy room and grades in school reflected that.

There were a few negatives in that I did get bullied and almost got kicked out trying to do something about it, but overall going to military school was good for me. I made good friends, one of whom is still my best friend to this day. I became more disciplined and organized, making straight As for the first time in my life and graduating middle school as Valedictorian of my middle school class. I became more confident for having gone through military school, made good grades, and doing way better than my ‘bully’. The negative stuff even turned out to be a positive. The ‘bullying’ I got toughened me up and the teasing taught me to differentiate between insults and jokes (I used to take everything seriously). My “bully” even encouraged me to wrestle and play football my final year in which I did very well. My finest moment was when I was on the defense during kickoff and sprinted to the field because I didn’t realize I was supposed to be on the field. The other team redid kick off and I sprinted as fast as I could. I tackled a blocker, who fell back with enough momentum that he took out the ball carrier and stopped the play.

In military school I learned basic social graces and how to not be a complete pussy. By the time I got high school in another English-speaking country, I was just a little socially awkward. The lack girls in my military school hindered my experience (compared to a lot of kids today) and made my first week or two, very fun weeks (I ogled every single pretty girl I could). As I was learning how the place was like, wondering why people seemed to be intimidated by me (I was also afraid of no one), I started to realize something. I was being too nice. If someone asked me a favor, I would do it without expecting to gain from it. I used to bake brownies from ninth to tenth grade and feed them to the dorm or my classes (they really liked me for that). At dinner I would take up all the trays and forks and knives from the table to the tray and people told, “Hey man, you don’t need to do that!” When prodded for information, I told one guy about a part of military school in middle school, and he got scared and told our high school (which almost kicked me out). I was starting to learn that I had to be very careful of who, if anyone, I could trust, and that if I was too nice, people would take advantage of me.

I stopped being as nice and started to think more in terms of, “what’s in it for me?” when people asked for favors. I divided people into two groups: close friends, and everybody else. I was still pretty nice to my close friends, but lately I have realized that even they took advantage of me to some extent to (I’m not completely sure of to what extent by whom just yet). In a way, I swallowed a purple pill, a vital change that directed me on the path I am today.

~Wald

Reflections: Humbling

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Getting your ass beat is a humbling experience

Today in boxing class, we went over combinations such as the 1 (jab), 3 (hook), 2 (cross), the 1, 2, 3, and the 2, 3.

After we drilled combinations, we had three mini-bouts. The first two bouts would consist of two timed rounds, where boxers would take turns being offense and defense (you would be offense one round & defense the next).

I went against my drilling partner for the first min-bout. When it was my turn to be defense (the first two mini-bouts consisted of two rounds of alternating defense and offense roles), I took his blows with nonchalance and counterattacked plenty. When it was my turn to be on the offensive I rained blows on him until the round was over. It was almost like drill practice because he got practically no counter punches in. Alternating between striking at his mid section and his head confused him and caught him off guard. At the end of my first min-bout it was clear in my mind that I was the better boxer. I felt good and like a boss.

Then I had to switch for my next mini-bout. The next guy counter-attacked better than I could handle and did the same thing to me I did to my drill partner when he was on the offense. He didn’t telegraph his punches and I could barely get in any counter punches. When I did manage to hit back, he was hitting me at the same time.

By my third min-bout I was tired, but it was an open bout. I was free to attack and defend as I wished. The third guy was not as good as the second guy I boxed, but my tiredness elevated the little skill he had above me. I managed confuse him a couple times by alternating between striking him in the midsection and then going for his head, but by the end, it was clear in my mind that he was the victor of that mini-bout.

Nothing is more humbling than a good ass beating.

And that’s one of the problems of today. People see violence on TV and in the movies all the time, but no one is raised getting their ass kicked anymore. In the past three years I have seen many boys who seem to have ADD or ADHD and act so cocky and stupid. Even the skinny guys who could get their asses beat six ways to Tuesday. I find myself seeing all these douche-bags, wimps, manginas, etc and think, “Man, that kid needs to get an ass whooping.” These kids see all the violence and think it’s okay to be a total ass to someone, but then get surprised when they get hit back.

When I was raised, my father laid down the law. When I didn’t finish my peas when he told me to – Whack! I finished my peas. When I drew on the walls again, despite an admonishment not to, I got the book. Whack! I never drew on the walls again. When I did not clean my room on Sunday like I was supposed to (one sock was out of place), I got the choice between the belt or dinner. Whack! Even if my sister screwed up, she got the book too.

Nowadays with all the commotion about bullying and child abuse, parents and schools are nervous about properly disciplining kids. The lack of discipline (or presence of half-hearted discipline) is the reason why we have so many kids who have ADD or ADHD today. It is not because it is some condition that needs to be drugged to submission.

~Wald

Reflections on the Camera Whore Episode

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After yesterday’s post, I did some more thinking.

While I did learn a lot dating Camera Whore’s best friend, I regretted going after her best friend early without first seeing how far I could get with Camera Whore. Part of the reason I didn’t try to get with Camera Whore was that I heard that she had a long distance boyfriend and had rejected many guys who asked her out to an upcoming dance. Sure enough, a week or two after I started dating her best friend, she started going out with one of my friends.

Reflecting on this revealed to me another lesson I could learn from. When deciding between a sure thing (a girl who’s interested in you) and a potential thing (a girl who might be interested in you), you should go for the sure thing every time. I believe it was [Redacted] who first said this.

However, when you are choosing between two girls for a long term relationship, you should never settle for anything less than the best. This is especially pertinent for marriage, if you ever decide to cross that Rubicon. Only women settle, because they can’t do better than what their looks can provide them.

Because men can improve their worth until well into their twilight years, they should settle for nothing less than the best. The best one can get changes over time. And if you’re doing it right, the best you can get will get better and better.

~Wald

 

 

Jack Shit

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Today,

As I drink what’s left of my Jack Daniels, I realize that it doesn’t taste like what it used to. When I first started drinking, a few years ago, Jack Daniels would burn when I drank it, and taste good. Now it doesn’t burn or taste as good. In fact, it doesn’t really have a taste, but rather an alcoholic aftertaste that makes me wretch.

I don’t drink a Jack & Coke because I can’t handle the burn, but because I dislike the taste.

I must be getting older again. Time to move on to the next drink.

Wald

Reflections: I’m Getting Older

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Now that I have been 19 and in college for several months, I’ve come to the realization that I am definitely getting older.

I feel like I’ve changed a lot in the past four years. For example, video games are still fun, but I get bored with playing them faster. I am unwilling to jump back in to these games and grind to get back to my previous levels. I used to drink a lot of coke and other soft drinks. Now few soft drinks hold the taste. It feels like after a few sips (if not the first one) the drink just tastes like a carbonated drink that is supposed to taste like more than sugary water. Now the only times I really drink coke are when I mix it with alcohol (though some drinks, I prefer straight).

My desires have changed a lot. I used to want to play video games and later in life design the most realistic war game the world has ever seen. Now all I want to do is travel and experience life. I have a bucket list which includes doing things, people, and being places. I don’t want to sit still and do nothing. I still can sit on the computer and waste lots of time (a vestige of the old personality I am leaving behind), but now I feel empty after I look at the clock and realize that I have accomplished absolutely nothing in the past two hours.

My goal in life used to a vague: do what ever it takes to be remembered.  And by remembered, I meant, I wanted my name to appear in school textbooks, like George Washington or Erwin Rommel or something. Now my life goals are a lot more specific, vivid, and because I have fleshed them out, tangible & doable.

I have come a long way from the person I was 4 years ago, yet I still have a long way to go.

~Wald