Addicted To Life

Being inside the bowels of niggardom allows me to witness firsthand many of the human weaknesses that other humans exploit. This exploitation occurs on all levels of human society. It’s easier to spot at this level of niggardom because it’s not hidden in fancy dress or excuse. Niggardom at this level is pure. Weak preying on weaker and exposing each other as the same in the process.

It always amazed me the value of cigarettes have as currency in niggardom. Granted niggers and naked-dickers are more likely to suffer from nicotine addiction. It just amazes me. Perhaps by exploiting ones’ own exploitation, the weak find power? One thing is sure. Cigarettes and coffee are the epitome of addictive behavior. Here, addictive personalities are abundant. I should be able to see a solution to addiction here. Surely it can’t be to replace one addiction with another.

You wanna stop drinking, go to AA, pick up the coffee and cigarettes. You kicking cocaine, go to rehab a couple of times, pick up the cigarettes and coffee (there’s a difference!) or dive head first into a church. Sex your problem…



…I got nothing for that one…have more…just be careful…j/k…seriously, I got nothing.



So far, addiction has been the only solution for addiction. “Too much of anything makes you an addict”

So how do we promote moderation over addiction? There is so much “else” in the world. Unfortunately, one thing or another scares the addict from life. Living is the only way to find out about everything “else” there is out there.

Defense mechanisms and escapisms become habit. Habit tells us we don’t have time for anything else. Habit is comfortable. Comfort breeds complacency. Really, is habit the true thing we are ALL addicted to? Can we let go of the concept of good and bad habits? Is our real fear change? Is it so hard to switch up every once in a while? What about trying something new here and there?

I will admit, I have had moments where bad habits have prevailed over doing something new. How better to experience something than to experience it first hand. At the time, I thought it was better to be known by my habits, good or bad, than to just be a person who lived. I always wondered why at times I felt like I was dying while nothing was wrong. It was because I wasn’t living. I hate to be so black and white but – If you aren’t living, you are dying.

Everyone knows what living is. Everyone has a “bucket list.” How many of us have missed an opportunity due to habit? How long are you going to let habit and fear kill you. I had to write this to see a solution. Addiction is death on all levels. The only foil to death is life. The answer is to live!

Word Of The Day - Virgin

Word Of The Day
Virgin

Every one knows the standard definition of virgin. But the is also an expansion on that definition. Because of this definition it is vital to share. The American Heritage defines virgins as: 1. A person who has not experienced sexual intercourse. (There are variations but we will focus on this one.)

Sexual intercourse or sex is the ultimate intimate experience. In the past few decades, sex has become increasingly casual. From exploration to playing hide and go get it to running trains to little kids having dick sucking parties (Its real, I saw it on Oprah), these children grow up into adults who don’t value sex as the experience that it is. In increasing number, we are encountering adults who have missed out on the essence of sex. These people have sexual experience but they haven’t experienced sex. They are virgins.
Because they haven’t experienced sex, virgins have no sexual identity. Virgins may have had sex but they aren’t sexual people. They aren’t sexpots, studs, sluts, whores, slores, sexy, hoes, prudes, stiff, cold fish or anything sexual. (Well maybe there are a few hoes in there…) Sadly, these women (and men) have largely never experienced orgasms or even the essential intimacy that is included in the sexual experience. SMH
Shout out to the brilliant explorer who discovered this expanded definition. I know people are increasingly private, so I won’t name names unless they are volunteered. (Or unless they deserve it!) I could write volumes on virgins but this was only a prelude to another train of thought. And with that:


The Virgin Curse

The virgin has been a prize since the days when we were all virgins. Oddly, the virgin was not the prize most of us sought. Even in college, when virgins were all stacked up and ready for the slaughter, my sexual A.D.D. didn’t allow me to focus on the prize of all prizes. I (I stole it and I don’t know that “the originator” wants to be associated with this) even took to expanding the term. [see above] I passed by quite a few prizes in my life simply because I didn’t have the time. It occurred to me now that I had time to reflect. No regrets but I do wonder about a new phenomenon known as The Virgin Curse.
In my reflections, I notice that those who did have time (to chase virgins) turned out to be not so nice. The results…MAJOR damage.
The damage done to any woman scorned is major. The damage done to a virgin…MAJOR.
I have been remembering some of the “virgins” I’ve encountered in my life. Up to twenty years later, ”the ghosts of conquests past” have some stories to tell. But that’s not what this is about. This is about fulfillment.
The others took a lot. They took your innocence. They took your time. They took your hearts. And they left you. They left you all alone. They left you with children. They left you burned, scorned, used and abused. You are all definitely different now.
I wondered about a “virgin curse”. I asked myself if I had to pay for the sins of others. For passing you by and passing you on to charlatans. At one time I placed you so high up on a pedestal, I thought you were out of my reach. Others came and knocked you down. Knocked you down and knocked you up. Knocked you around. But you got back up.
So I will fulfill. Because you’re still here. I still can’t have you, my virgins. Maybe I was never meant to. I never had to fix you. Because you’re still you. I was just sent to remind you. After all these years. After all the tears. You’re still here. Pedestal and all! I you need a boost to get back up there…just call.

My Greatest Gift

My greatest gift has also been my greatest curse. NO LONGER.

I always asked questions but I stopped expecting them to be answered directly. I always find out on my own. Sometimes that meant learning the hard way. Lately, that hasn’t been working for me. Learning the hard way, that is. A persepeective shift allows me to see my gift as only that. I can ask questions and I can find my own answers but I don’t always have to learn the hard way. I can be more patient when seeking cooperation. I can be because I will it to be.