Friday, August 4, 2017

Pretend I'm Human

My last blog entry was about a sociopath and a broken boy and according to my email inbox and my comment box, nobody reads me anymore. Perfect. I think my blogging hiatus was long enough to have lost any followers/readers I may have gained over the past many years. Now I can write in solitude, knowing that only the walls are listening. And these walls look hungry for absorption. Vertical flatness of being. Manufactured existence. I can hear their bones bend beneath painted skin. They probably need something more fulfilling, but I'll give 'em what I've got and hope they don't start closing in on me mid-sentence.

Okay, so now that I got that over with, what's next? Sex. Sure, why not. Seems like a logical flow of thought. My brain moves straight from "the earth sucks and humans are ridiculous blood bags" to "let's talk about sex, baby". Sure, let's do it. After I'm done writing this blog entry I'm going to watch the following film:
Why? Because it fell on my doorstep, so to speak. And for social studies, duh. I wish that my curiosity of human sexual desire was equally matched by my own sexual appetite, but let this blog entry be my stepping out of the asexual closet, so to speak. I'm sure if you read my last blog entry then you must have thoughts and questions. And since I'm drinking and stuck inside my fucking truck (I said fucking haha) I've decided to pontificate. What does being asexual mean (to me) exactly? Here, let me explain.

Over the course of my life I have been in numerous serious relationships with women. Was even married once. I am capable of love. I am also capable of commitment, although this is where it gets convoluted. In my mind, commitment translates to being honest, faithful, caring, respectful and helpful to another. In past relationships I have definitely been all of these things, which makes me an awesome boyfriend/husband. However, you'll notice sex wasn't included in that list. I am painfully aware of how sexual our species is and how important sex is to a lasting relationship, which herein lies my problem. My sex drive has always been a 2 on a scale of 1 to 10, sometimes lower even, and this poses a massive threat towards me having a lasting relationship with another. And let me tell you what... it sucks. Miserably so.

I've never told anyone this before; this is my big asexual secret. I obviously didn't have to tell my former lovers. They figured it out the hard way and I'm remorseful for allowing it to happen repeatedly. I'm still human, which means I still have the need for attention, affection, connection... and even sex, but only at times. Picture a camel taking a long gulp of water from an oasis. Now picture that same camel walking laboriously across a thousand mile wide desert without having the need to take another drink. Yeah, that's pretty much what my sex drive is like. I don't have the daily, weekly, or even monthly need to have sex. I can literally go months without the desire.

So why am I saying all of this now? Because it's the weekend and I don't have any other shit to do. I'm stuck inside a truck! Because the moment felt right. Because I'm tired of keeping it all inside. Because current circumstances dictated my hand and heart. Because the Clippers lost to the Celtics. Heck if I know, I just felt like writing and this is what came out. Do with it what you want. Comment and ask questions, I'll answer. Forward it to a friend, I don't really care. Honestly, I'm hoping nobody reads this anymore anyway. I'm writing this one for myself, really, but if it makes its way to someone else and they're glad they read it, then I'm cool with that.

P.S. I don't really know if the Clippers lost to the Celtics. Hell, I don't even know if they play against each other. I just picked two C letter sport teams because I enjoy a little alliteration in my life. Alright, I've embarrassed myself enough with this entry, I'll shut up now. Next one I write will be uplifting and much less revealing, I promise. Bye.

Thursday, July 20, 2017

I Am Not A Sociopath, But I'm Pretty Sure This Guy Is

Hello readers, I have a question. I realize I've abandoned you all and I barely write anymore, but for those of you still hanging around and reading this, I have a question. Do you ever grow wary of meeting new people? Does the idea of meeting and getting to know someone for the first time excite you or cause anxiety? I used to think new people in my life meant new ideas, new stories, new adventures, but I'm beginning to question the whole thing now. Maybe I've surpassed my own Dunbar's number of new people I'm supposed to meet in this life. If this is true, I hope it only counts for Americans because I still want to travel the world and meet new people abroad, but maybe I'm done meeting Americans? Could be.

I've been called a sociopath twice now, both times by someone new in my life. The first occurrence affected me deeply and I even spent numerous therapy sessions discussing the possibility that I might lack empathy for other people. It was decided that I am not a sociopath, but rather a victim of childhood abuse who has difficulty connecting intimately. I agree with this, but I also know that until I REALLY get to know someone, I will automatically assume that you are out to hurt me (and others) in some manner. And let me tell you, it takes a long fucking time for me to finally open up and start trusting someone new. Until recently that is.

My therapist spent countless sessions trying to teach me how to open up and talk about all the bullshit that tries to bring me down. She ingrained in me the importance of trusting and discussing deeply personal stuff with other people. And so I have. I started opening up. A few times actually. And I honestly wish I hadn't. Nobody needs to know my own personal pain. That's not their burden to carry. I don't expect them to; I don't want them to. That's why I write poetry. Anyone who truly wants to know my inner demons can find them screaming at the top of their lungs via my poetry. Go there and read it if you want to get to know that side of me, but fuck off if you think I'll just open up and talk about it ever again. Never going to happen. Sorry, therapist Heather, but I'm unlearning all the progress we made.

I've also had my asexuality questioned twice now. I've never talked about this before, because frankly, it's embarrassing and nobody even understands it. Yes, I am asexual. I don't give a damn about sex. I can go forever without needing to fuck. I don't actively seek it out. Does this mean that I never have sex or that if I do I don't enjoy it? No. Being asexual doesn't mean we lack feeling or arousal. I can be turned on. The problem is, I don't really want to be. I'd rather be left alone really. Even in the company of a beautiful woman who wants to have sex, chances are I'm thinking about short story character development or a podcast I heard or why it took Robin Williams so long to kill himself. Normal shit like that. To me, love and sex are both things I don't really understand. Hence why the majority of my creative writing centers around these topics. I often write about the things that puzzle me the most. Humans are at the top of that list. We are a turbulent, yet predictable species, capable of love and compassion while simultaneously performing the worst acts of violence and hate upon one another. I don't get it. I don't like it. But I also don't shy away from it. I watch murder videos on the internet as a refresher course on just how fucked up things can get. I watch porn as a litmus test to see how sideways human sexuality is sliding. I watch horror movies, listen to politically incorrect comedy (shout out to Doug Stanhope and his Deadbeat Hero album), read books and watch documentaries about historical wars and genocide. For fuck sake, I am a direct descendant of a Russian Jew who escaped Hitler's advance into the mother country! The list goes on and on.

But I am not a sociopath. Nor a psycho. I think about these things a lot. I wonder what causes people to become that way. I have all the right ingredients. The things done to me when I was a church boy is enough in itself to set me on a course of chaos and destruction, but the only person I chose to hurt and destroy in this life was/is myself. I have been extremely hard on me. I have been trying to kill myself via external choices my entire adult life. Things inside me are broken and bent and I hate myself because I can't figure out how to make it not so. I hide a lot, but I also love to socialize. It's human nature to want to be part of a group and be accepted. It's also human nature to hurt and abuse. I've hurt people too. I recently hurt several friends I knew in Oregon. One confided in me his secret and during one of my many drink nights, I blabbed it to someone else. I feel really lousy about it. Another trusted me as their best friend, shared everything with me as I did her, and I commenced to hurt her feelings during a phone call that I unwittingly answered in my pocket with things I was saying after not answering. It pains me when I think about it now after all this time. And the last is someone I allowed into my life on a level deeper than I was comfortable with. I will not say much about this person seeing how I know she's likely reading this, but she got closer than anyone and suffered the most in the end and I'll never forgive myself for it. I cursed at her out of unseen anger for no reason other than I wanted to be left alone. She witnessed the dark side that exists in me, in every human to a certain degree. And if you're reading this and thinking to yourself that darkness doesn't exist in you, I call bullshit. It's there, in some form or capacity, you simply haven't acknowledged it yet.

I write about these things to point out one thing really: that I carry great remorse over hurting people. Those who know me know this isn't my thing. I don't hurt people intentionally. I do, however, fuck up sometimes. I am, after-all, human, as much as I like to pretend I'm not. And the difference between a good person and a true sociopath is... acknowledgement, remorse and apology. I recently had a conversation with a friend who shared with me her awful life experience with a true sociopath. She didn't give me permission (nor did I ask for it) to share her story, but I'll chalk this one up to "never trust a writer" because anything you share can and may be used without permission because writers often feel the end justifies the means. I tried saving the screenshot texts to share (with her and his names blurred out), but I noticed they are hard to read so I'll transcribe them instead. For those of you who care to see what a true sociopath acts like in real life, just read the following break up texts between my friend and her boyfriend of a year and half:

Her: What are your unrealistic expectations?

Him: I dunno. I'm always unsatisfied when I wake up with someone. Always a question of "can I do better". I just want someone with the same hobbies tbh

Her: Like video games and traveling?

Him: Essentially

Her: I like both of those

Him: On a different level. I don't have patience. I don;t wanna teach someone.

Her: I don't travel much because of lack of money & time. I don't much care for your video games but I can sit for hours and play them

Him: I've lied to you too much. I don't want kids like ever. I formed myself on things I thought would make me more appealing to you. I am a lie to you.

Her: Then tell me the truth

Him: I never wanted kids. I never planned on marrying you. I just kept digging a deeper hole.

Her: Why? Why did you try so hard to make me like you?

Him: Because I live to be liked by people. Idolized. It makes me feel power. I have a fucked up complex. I don't care for others feelings as long as they're building me up. Right now that girl she's mad because I didn't answer her calls. And I'm stuck between "do I give up and continue playing all the games that I love, or make it up and pretend to be vulnerable?"

Her: You really are a sociopath aren't you?

Him: I dunno. Maybe

Her: You need help. I don't know if it will work, but you need it.

Him: (crying laughing emoji)

Her: Not even funny right now

Him: I don't care enough to get help. I just want to get through life.

Her: Just don't hurt anyone else.

Him: I can't.

Her: Be single and live your life fucking whoever you want

Him: I can't do that either

Her: Why?

Him: I don't know how to just get people like that. I have to convince them. Make them like me.

Her: Convince them of a one night stand

Him: I'm not that charming

Her: You can be

Him: I like the little relationships though

Her: You made me love you for a year and a half. I'm sure you can handle one night.

Him: I like having the strings

Her: You need to learn to do without. Why the charade with a new person?

Him: Because. I feel even more powerful here than with you

Her: You make me sick. I honestly want to throw up right now.

Him: Really?

Her: Yes

Him: How?

Her: How can you go that long just fucking with me. You knew what I wanted. You knew my goals and had no intention of participating in any of them.

Him: Don't tell anyone of this. Please.

Her: Why?

Him: Because I have a good reputation back home

Her: Not like I know anyone you're gonna fuck over

Him: You can't tell mom. You can't tell my friends or your friends because they know each other.

Her: Interesting. You fuck me over for a year and a half and now you need something from me. How ironic is that?

Him: I didn't fuck you over.

Her: What would you call it then?

Him: A rollercoaster

Her: You wasted a year and half of of my time. I could have been looking for my life partner. Fuck you and your rollercoaster.

Him: You're 20, you'll be fine.

Her: Screw off. Or maybe your new friend Rosa

Him: Rosie

Her: (eye roll emoji)

Him: I thought you cooled off

Her: Is this fun for you?

Him: Honestly?

Her: Yes, honestly. After a year of lies- yeah I'd like honesty

Him: It's not. Because I just lost you both and it kinda blows. But I've learned to look on the bright side so now I have more time to go to the gym, play games and shit

Her: Hmm both? And you said you weren't cheating on me.

Him: Karma lol. Honestly? I lied. The truth comes out now.

Her: How long?

Him: Ready?

Her: Yes. How many?

Him: That night you were super drunk and said you didn;t care, I had sex with that one girl

Her: Which one girl?

Him: When I got to Quantico and told you all about GG I was screwing her. And Rosie was kind of serious since April

Her: I fucking knew it.

Him: So almost a year. And three. Now you can hate me.

Her: I think I might throw up now.

Him: Does it feel better? Or hurt more? I like Rosie because she had more fucked up past than you and your cousin. Her grandpa raped her for years, but made her into really weird shit. It got me going. There's no reason for the other two other than I was shitfaced and wanted to see if I could.

Her: Any other truths you want to tell?

Him: Are you crying?

Her: Nope. You want to make me?

Him: Interesting. I like making people cry. I used to say bullshit to my mom to make her break down when I didn't have my way. You see manipulation is my game. That's why I took psychology to better understand how to break people down.

Her: So any other truths you want to tell?

Him: Your love language "touch" that's why I would refuse to cuddle or hold your hand for no reason. That was your own doing though.. you told me. I can't think of anything else.

Her: I thought I could trust you. My bad.

Him: So are you going to tell anyone? I mean there's nothing I can do about it but I'd prefer you not to.

So there you go, a true sociopath (seemingly born into it). The part where he talks about breaking down and manipulating his own mother makes me wonder how far back his fucked up nature goes? To the womb possibly? I don't know. My own childhood experience was pretty fucked up and I know the damage it caused in me, but even so, I am as far away from this guy as anyone could be. I could never say or think those thoughts about anyone, especially a friend or lover or family member. The level of apathy and cold blooded mindset this kid displays is a clear example of the darkly broken aspect of our species. Those murder videos I watch on the internet... this type of person does it. Those historical leaders who starved millions of their own citizens to death... this type of person does it. That kid, Randy Stair, who hated humanity and proved it by shooting his coworkers and himself to death in a Weis Market in Pennsylvania... this type of person does it. I am not this type of person.

But let's revisit the part of this blog where I called all you people out. The part where I said a certain degree of darkness exists in all of us. I already acknowledged it exists in me. I don't pretend it doesn't. The fact that my friend trusted me enough to share this and I in turn shared it on my blog causes me pause and concern. Am I performing yet another abuse of friendship? It's very possible. Did perceiving this prevent me from sharing it anyway? Not at all. I want to hurt this person who hurts others without remorse. I want him to suffer the nine gates of hell. I want to personally come back to Oregon, stalk him like a prey, and execute his eradication from society before he progresses into a more dangerous monster. But I am not a killer. I am, however, a writer. And even though I no longer live in Salem, Oregon, I am still part of this blog group that is read by many people who live there. My friend is a really good human and I'd bet a million dollars she won't ever call this sociopath out, but I'm not as nice and I have no qualms doing it for her. His name is Mateo Campbell and I am acting as judge and jury when I say he is an nonredeemable piece of shit and should be avoided at all cost.

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this guy will evolve into a higher being and do great things during his time on planet earth. I've heard it said that all people can change. And so I ask you one more question, dear readers... what do you think? Are you comfortable knowing he's your neighbor? Does he worry you? Or am I running long against the seams? I have been known to do that from time to time.

Sunday, April 9, 2017

East Coast Fury

I have left Oregon. The Pacific Northwest is no longer my home and the snow covered mountains I grew so accustomed to seeing every day no longer punctuate my horizon. In December of last year I made the decision to move back east. I quit my job of ten years and said goodbye to dozens of friends I made in the decade that I lived there. It wasn't easy this time. Over the course of my life I have relocated many times and experienced many fare thee wells, all of which were relatively easy for me, but this last time around wasn't the same. Something changed. I think the man I was learning to become allowed himself to grow closer to the friends he made. The goodbyes were difficult and four months later I find myself missing them and thinking about all the fun times I had with everyone. Fuck all, I miss Oregon and my people.

So, what am I doing now?
Driving a big rig all over the place. Mostly up and down the east coast, but dispatch knows I'm willing to go anywhere in the country if the load pay is right. I bought this rig off my dad which means now I am a small business owner, which translates to: I am now adulting on expert level mode. I flipped my life completely in an opposite direction. I went from living a simple, stress free lifestyle to one that resembles an 800lb bluefin tuna fighting at the end of a deep sea line & hook. I feel like I bit off more than I can consume.

I'll explain.

I obtained my CDL (commercial drivers license) via a tour bus company 15 years ago when I lived in Pennsylvania. I used a shitty school bus to pass the driving test and then immediately started driving people all around the US and Canada on vacations in a 55' luxury coach tour bus. That was a fun time, not too stressful. After that I moved to Oregon where I became a garbage truck driver. Honestly, I've never had an easier job. Automatic straight truck on a set local route, nothing complex about it. For a tiny moment I learned how to drive a 10 speed semi hauling garbage to landfills and that was my first taste of driving a big rig, but little did I know what I'd be getting into later. Fast forward to now times.

I purchased my dad's 2009 ProStar International truck without ever having sat in it. I've never been a trucker. I had no idea what truckers do. When I got to PA my dad gave me a two week crash course on how to be a "real" truck driver. Suddenly I found myself immersed in a world that I did not understand. Real truck driving is nothing like I had ever experienced prior. Real truck driving is hard, harder than anything I've ever done. I'm now in my fourth month of driving and every day is still a challenge. My biggest hurdle by far was/is learning how to shift a 13 speed. I've been driving manual vehicles since I was 16 but that did nothing to prepare me for shifting a big rig. It's way different. I hate it.

My life is radically different now. I no longer get off work around 3 every day and then go play or explore or hang out with friends or drink or write poetry and stories. I don't get to do that stuff much anymore because trucking isn't just a job, it's an entire lifestyle. It occupies most of my time, day and night. And when I do finally get some downtime I have to use it to grab a shower and eat and sleep. I squeeze those things in when I can and if I have any time leftover, then I can pull out my laptop and write something or watch a movie or read a book. But honestly, I can feel the creative writer in me dying. I'm no longer living a free and exciting life filled with people and experiences and stories, so my inspiration is running out and so is my muse. I guess the good thing is that I'm drinking way less now. I used to drink every single night and now it's few and far between.

I don't have plans on turning this site into a trucker blog, but I'm sure from time to time (when I actually get time) I will be writing about trucking stuff since that's what's happening in my life now. I'm hoping to eventually settle into this and find a way to keep writing creatively. That last story that I started was exciting to me and I would love to jump back into it again. The characters are waiting for me. They have shit they want to do! It's weird to think that their lives depend completely on me. I can bring them to life on paper and make them do things or I can abandon them where they currently are and leave them dangling forever in limbo. Writers are gods, did you know that?

One last thing then I'll post this. One of my main reasons for moving home was to be close to family again. I have nephews and nieces whom barely know me and I want to be cool uncle Mick. I'm enjoying getting to know them and being a part of their lives. It's something I've kind of avoided my whole life. I've never lived close enough to be a solid part of my family and now I am and it feels good. I know what you're thinking and yes it kind of defeats my purpose of being present in their lives while being an over the road trucker, but I do get home to see them way more now than I did living 3,000 miles away. So stuff it!

Okay, that's all for now. Hopefully I'll be back soon.