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Scrambled cities: If you're not gonna do the work(on your soul), then you might as well work til you die

 There are two tiers in normal life. Those who are survive and those who thrive.  But nothing is a mistake in life: Nothing comes by chance. You have to prepare for it.  If you thought life was about making money and beating out the Jones's, you've lost already.  Life is: Desire for connection. All unhealthy competition is isolating. We live in an isolated-enough world already. This connection comes from a surprising place: Self-acceptance. A lot of us need to go back to the classroom. A lot of us need to take a silent breather and check in with what we need. This takes serious work. It's the real work. It relies on respect for others and self-respect.  A lot of people in the self-help community try to push the self aside: Manning up is the only side of it they see. But there are certain non-negotiables in this life. Certain things we can't cheat ourselves out of. We are not a piece of meat being acted on.    However, this is where God comes in. Some o...
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Kyle and Violence

I in my isolation keep thinking that maybe I deserved what came for me that night. It troubles me that I was not able to fight back. I was prevented by something other than cowardice though. It was basic decency. And decency is what he's afraid of; but I would not be surprised if he confused decency with weakness. As I sit here alone it is difficult to think that a world exists there, outside of me. I want to go and meet it; but what is it that I want to meet exactly? This is a dangerous country with dangerous people and there aren't too many christians. Maybe I am too un-christian to find the one I love. Maybe that's my problem. If I do not find a girlfriend who is equally christian as me,  I am essentially ignoring the tennet that all couples should be equally yoked.

He had a very uneasy relationship with truth and specifically the idea of the devil. In his mind, he was the dragon, and I was the knight, and I may have died that evening if he didn't get his way. He would happily have killed to get his ego's way. Last night, a dream about medieval fights fitted the bill. He was the enemy and I had to pick something to fight with but every weapon I chose seemed inadequate somehow; one, for instance was for slapping someone on the face; but such a weapon would not cause any mortal harm, and this it seemed, was mortal combat. There was also a mountain-climbing scene in which I scaled the side of a mountain and it was very trecherous, but I did it anyway.

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