Adam was a vegitarian

Little know fact: Adam (the first mam) and everyone until Noah was a vegetarian (probably vegan other than the sacrifices) by God's command. They also live a very long time.

It wasn't until after the flood, a litteral batism of the earth, that mankind was then commanded to eat animals. People started dying much younger.

People think liberals are, well, crazy- that all these fads and modern mind viruses are sourced of evil, or at least not of God and the natural order of things.

I believe we live in a time when God's most valiant children are being born and walk the earth. I believe their instincts are tuned to a higher state of living, a time closer to that garden paradise when meat was fruits & vegitables not rabbits & cows.

Yet, we live in this earth. We live on a planet changed by the flood, a lesser world than before- a more temporal, mortal earth; a earth not only subject to human rule but also to the imfluences & whims of living demons. All under God's law & supervision. 

The highest form of this earth proved to be too unsuited for even the first man; the second too unsuited for his decendents who grew ripe with pride in their own ways.

And so, for many generations, humans lived in a world that proved worse than them; to keep them in their place as a constant reminder to need God, to love God, and to depend on his law and order to survive.

Today we yearn for an old world. We long to rule over earth as did those first generations of Adam. In fact we might even have brought to pass that same state of being as we build greater cities & technologies; as we propell ourselves into space & reach for new planets & new horizons of mind, spirit, & body.

It only stands to reason that as we push forward to new hights as a species, as we reach levels of arogance and hubris achievements as no generation has before, that we as a species will also reach closer to God and that long lost paradise of Eden. As we do we inevitably sense the order of God under which those things once existed here on earth. Thus the drive to live by higher commandments given to generations of the past, especially for those whose spirits are more enclined to live by them. 

But we must not forget that in this world there are demons who pervert all that is, was, and will be good. Humans have conquered the world that once threatened our very survival here and have forsaken the demons that used to rule the unfavored. 

But today, as we threaten by our very virtue to bring about a transformation of the world to an older and higher order of God, those demons are threatened by us. They are snakes backed into the corners of our past, and are lashing out violently at all truths. They corrupt the will & intuition of valiant souls. They plant seeds in liberal minds that grow to consume or smother genuine virtues.

Do not forsake them. These are the valiant sons amd daughters of God.  It would be a terrible misstep of believers to cast off those who fall into disarray in their lives while seeking a higher order of God's law because we do not fully understand or accept the force behind that drive. We should be fighting demons not eachother. 

So how to fight demons off? We easy: truth. You might think that acknowledging that Adam was probably a vegan and definately a vegitarian to be a trivial issue. "So what?" You might say, dismissively. But to do so is to dismiss a simple truth of our history, prupose, and the commandments of God. Woe unto those that dismiss even the smallest of truths, for truth is the law of God.

We have lost so many simple truths. Corrupting truth is how demons gain power. The math is simple: the further from truth we become the further from God, and thus susceptible to the influence of evil; and the liberal mind by virtue of its openness should be mindful of this principle. When you lose even the slightest grip of what is true you begin to separate yourself from God.

As humanity strives to reach beyond our stewardship we must cling to even the smallest of truths.

Free Association 2019

Free association journal 2/20/2019 spellchecked only edit and additions in italics

Things I wanted to do in life were... school. Ironic. FBI investigator, after a long career in the military, army rangers. I also wanted to be a Texas ranger or move to the Australian outback. Later in life I started wanting to be a writer and an actor, or musician. Lately I am getting into the idea of broadcasting but I am very discouraged because everything takes so much crappy college to get a job for and I just don't see how I could get a job in that industry. But I am going to go ahead with my podcasting anyway and just do it. Maybe I'll get discovered after a while and who knows.... I still like doing the framing stuff, but the prospects of that being any kind of meaningful or fulfilling career seem to be gone. Which sucks because I have built this shop in the basement for woodworking and stuff but now have no desire to go down there. Maybe some of that will change when the weather gets warmer and I don't feel so crappy all the time. But somethings got to give. I am broke and have no prospects of employment at the time. I can't imagine what full-time job might exist out there that I can actually do- and its hard enough to find a part time job that will even call me for an interview- outside of fast-food- but I don't apply to those places because I've gone through all that before. They simply aren't looking for 37 yr old men who don't want to be managers or assistant managers.... and why would anybody want that? They pay dick and the hours suck and there is zero room for an expanding mind. I'd wash out in a matter of weeks, if that. I'm not above the work. But I am above the bullshit. A job needs to be less stressful than not having one. That's the code I apply. Today I am writing I guess. This stupid free association crap. And it is crap.

So far in y life I've been able to act on stage, perform music at an open mic, write and record my own music and songs, and reach people across the globe with my blog... the army turned me down I think six different times. College was a bust. FBI simply isn't going to happen, ever. And it's all very depressing on a daily basis. I'm kinda surprised I keep my head above water as much as I do. That said, I haven't always. There was that one time I tried to kill myself. But I will never go back there. The self pity and pettiness simple is beneath me. I'd fulfill my oldest and dearest dream of being a hobo before I let myself wallow in that kind of stupidity again. But it is getting really hard not having a career to identify with as my place in this modern world- a place I have chosen to really try to stay in- mainly because I have people I love who I just won't abandon. I think God set this all up and has kept me from doing that anyway. Every time I felt I was prepared, mentally, and in terms of supplies, to hit the road and live out my dream- something came up. A girl, a job, my mom buying this house. Big things that presented opportunities that I couldn't ignore- even if they kept me further committed to a way of life that I just don't get, haven't been prepared for, and feel wholly inadequately educated or provisioned. Nonetheless, here I am- wonderful wife, little dog, our own space, and time enough to finally figure something out if I can just keep my head a little higher, for a little longer each day. I don't deserve any of this. I can only assume that these blessings of fate and good fortune are for some grater purpose, and what ever I figure out to do, will be the means by which it comes to fruition.

Idk if it's a memoir or a book or a podcast, or something else. I can't explain my newfound interest with politics, or broadcasting or any of it. All I know is that my mind goes from one mode to another and I just follow it because its interesting. Maybe I'm just wasting my time. Maybe I'm just putting in the hours toward something final. I don't know. What I do know is that the deeper I get into these things the more I come up against more finely tuned and prepared minds- more so than I've ever experienced in my life. I'm quite used to people either not understanding my points and ignoring it, or thinking I was smarter than I was and not having the courage to challenge me. But now I seem to get challenged on everything everywhere, and I'm finding myself ill prepared at times to back up some of my more abstract ideas- it's like an exam. I've been absorbing so much for so long, without having ever put it out anywhere, or organizing it in any way, and now I am expected to have a formal thesis and foot notes on every little thing. It's great in a way, because I enjoy having my ideas challenged, and having to work them all out. Its also terrifying because the world today seems to have no tolerance for mistakes or malformed ideas of the unlearned. And I am about the most unlearned person out here. I never went to high school. Never went to junior high. Didn't finish the fifth grade. In fact I can only remember for sure that I finished out kindergarten in the same class that I started, and maybe the 3rd grade. Idk if I finished out the 1st or second year- I'm sure I did, but probably not in the same schools. And the 4th grade I know I started in one school and finished in another. We seemed to move every summer back then. And by the time I started the fifth grade, we were moving again. I guess my parents finally just gave up pretending to care about school and that point, because I never saw the inside of another school building until I was 22 and trying to get my GED so I could go to a college.

I could have been so many other things than just a forgettable blip or stat with the way I was brought up. I think my faith and heart saved me from making all the mistakes that a typical teen would have made. Beside that I was always anti-social, and was often fine with just being alone and hearing the birds chirp or the wind blow. If I were a people person, or really had all the social training to think that I was supposed to be one, I might have taken a darker path at times. But as fate would have it, my faith in God, and my general sense of pure life always showed me plainly when a bad decision was in my path. I ran from them. Of course that instinct to run away from confrontation or conflict went a little too far at times. I've quit more jobs than I can remember because of anxiety, or simple embarrassment. I never handled those things well. I was never taught how. Not until I was in my twenties, suicidal, and under the pressure of the world to be normal or productive member of society. I had no idea that I had learning disabilities until I was probably 27. I remember learning what dyslexia was from Jay Leno on the Tonight Show and realizing that was probably why I struggled to read or do math. Numbers and letters floating around on the page was one thing- I knew I had that in common with my father- but I didn't know it was a thing. I didn't know it was connected to that other thing that made me read a sentence ten times over again before I realized that I am reading the words out of order. I didn't know why my letters sometimes came out wrong. Not until I was 27.

I didn't know anything about autism either. I'd never heard of Asperger. ADD and ADHD was something that those “crazy” kids had that was probably a made up thing to make bad parents feel better, and sedate their children. When I was in therapy for my anxiety my therapist suggested Asperger might fit the bill. It was outside of his arena and I don't fault him for not making a better case at the time- but at the time I didn't see the value in pursuing that sort of inquiry. The whole thing scared me a bit. I still had hopes of getting in the military and all I knew of Asperger was that it was a form of autism, and I was not autistic- those people were handicapped. I had known a few people with Asperger and they could barely function. They didn't speak well, they weren't' smart. They lived on welfare, made poor life decisions and generally just seemed less capable than me. All I had was anxiety. Sure, my anxiety made me curl up in a ball and shake or cry.... it made me put my hands up to my face and lose composure... it made me lose the ability to control my arms and body as they begin to sway, with slight tremors- not unlike a Parkinson patient- and ultimately leaves me sitting on the floor with my knees tightly up to my chest because my stomach aches as I fight a nearly overwhelming urge to stab it. But that was just anxiety to me. I was always like that. I've had it since I was a boy. But my therapist only knew what I told him. And at the time I couldn't bare the embarrassment of telling anyone what I was going through on a daily basis. In my mind it seemed like there was me, and then this other thing that pushed me out and shut my mind and body down. It was terrifying and I thought I was crazy. I just knew that the anxiety was the source, and the better I could learn to fight the anxiety or stop it from snowballing the better chance I had of actually being me for a day.

Truth be told, I don't know how much more I can take in life without a break. And I don't know how to go forward from here without just dodging around it like I always have, reducing stress and limiting social expectations... but I have ambitions. I want to do more than simply exist or survive. I want to engage. I want to challenge and be challenged. I want to be free of this tether that binds me. I just don't know how that's going to happen.

(my apologies if this is harder to read than usual, but i am not going to make a habit of editing or censoring these journal entries. Thanks for reading.)

Today

Today. . .

Today I listened to music from my past. It was cold and moody. Emotions of long past had resurfaced somewhere in the night. The music felt natural. It felt new. As I listened each song pulled me deeper in my past- not to specific memories, but to vague emotions and senses I forgot I had. My body swelled with each harmony and lyric, so much that tears began to fill my eyes in regular frequency.

What is more powerful than the music of a forgotten moment? When the memory has been purged and suppressed into the deepest recess of the heart it forgets nothing. It just lay there in wait. Waiting for a moment of vulnerability to leap to the front of your heart and start screaming “FEEL ME!” Remember me.” And you do. Despite your best efforts to hold it back and silence the thought, you do remember.

And then the music ends, and like a worn out child after throwing a tantrum your heart rests. You wipe the moisture from you eyes and face and change to music to interests current. And as your heart begins to lighten and your head returns to it's normal water level, your mind burns with thought. All those moments since that time- those forgotten times- all the bright moments since then illuminate you. “Life is good.” You say to yourself. Yet the sadness still lingers a little. And you know that to some degree it always will. But it will live forever in those moments and songs where they were so natural together- like they were written for each other. And there they stay, waiting to be recalled for you at a moments notice and the click of a button, when you want to scream “Feel me!” “Remember me.”

My mind is a universe all its own. The rules are basically simple: everything changes. That simple rule, however often gets mistranslated into 'fear the coming change.'

Having anxiety is that fear of things to come, not knowing if they will be good for you, or bring about the total destruction of all things in a cosmic sense. (And no, that's not an over-exaggeration of the feeling. If anything it's over-simplified.)

When I have anxiety, it is impossible to describe; but I will try in case my story sounds something like yours.

It's too easy to fall into that trap of thinking no one understands, and that you're alone in your universe. But that's almost never the case. And even though the number of people who can identify exactly with you may be small, there is always a broad populous who can at least relate in a small way. So, for those of you who feel alone, as I do sometimes, tell your story. Even if you have to do it anonymously. You may not be alone after all.

My earliest memory: I was an infant, sitting in the seat of a shopping cart with my mother. I remember being aware of people 'watching' me, looking at "the baby" and doing and saying things that people do when they see a baby. It bothered me immensely. I remember thinking how I wish they would just leave me alone, and how I just wanted to leave. I also remember relying heavily, emotionally on the fact that my mother would keep me safe from them. A reliance that seemed faulty when two young (college age) girls approached her and asked to see "the baby." This was a terrifying proposition to me at the time, but I was unable to voice my objection to my mother. And of course, there wasn't anything cuter that I could've done at the time.

The girls started in with how cute I was not realizing that I was in fact terrified of this encounter. I began to cry. Embarrassed, my 'assailants' (as I viewed them) began to chuckle (which of course to me was a judgement and condemnation of my very soul.) My mother began to chuckle as well, which (and I cannot stress enough from my infantile perspective) absolutely broke my soul. I felt totally abandoned and alone.

The feelings of scrutiny and abandonment in that moment have reoccurred countless times since.

It's easy to take that first memory and experience as the source of my anxiety. However, that would probably be an over-simplification. Although I wouldn't argue the impact that first memory had in my childhood development as an emotional being, I think it would be a disservice to everyone with anxiety to effectively dismiss my life long struggle with anxiety as stemming from this one moment.

Life compounded with misunderstandings is often the external factors of anxiety. Most people can relate in some limited capacity to the fact that life can throw you a curve-ball you are not ready for, and cause you stress and "anxiety." (Those who have anxiety, will probably understand why that word is in quotations. But if you don't understand the reason, just trust the fact that while it is the same anxiety, it is not the same anxiety.)

Maybe a better way to think of the differences between what a "normal" person without anxiety feels when life throws them that curve-ball, and what that curve-ball does to a person with anxiety is to imagine anxiety as a professional studio mixer. (That's the thing with all the dials, faders, and lights, and things.)

Everybody's mixer will look a little different. Some levels will be set higher or lower, depending on your personality. Each channel on the mixer represents a different stress trigger (or anxiety.) There are thousands of channels on everybody's mixer, although most of them will be set to zero for most people. A non-anxious person will hear only one channel at a time through their day-to-day life. But when stressed, they may hear several i.e. kids crying, traffic, music too loud, whatever triggers stress in that individual. The same holds true for those with anxiety, with one variance; all the channels have some volume all the time. Even the ones that aren't stress triggers. (Remember there are thousands.)

Now imagine you're stressed, and you don't have anxiety. Your mixer simply raises the master volume. Your triggers all become louder according to their resting volume in relation to each other. (Not Fun)

When you have anxiety your master volume also raises, but so do all other channels independently of one another. Even the ones that have a resting volume near zero. Thousands of channels all increasing in volume until they are maxed out. If you can imagine that coming through your headset, your ears would be saturated by white noise. Everything becomes white noise. And we haven't even begun adding effects to any of the channels yet.

It's important to note this possibility when approaching some one with anxiety. Because it is very natural to ask, "what's the big deal? It's just. . . "

Well it isn't. And it is.

Yes it's just an interview. Everybody gets anxiety for an interview. But if you have an anxiety issue, it is never just an interview. It's never just making phone call, or filing a document, going to the bank or grocery store, or whatever. It's all of them. It's everything. It's the entire universe collapsing on one tiny emotional frame, that is a human spirit.

Growing up with anxiety is never easy, no matter who you are. But when you grow up having as limited social contact as I did, it becomes a different animal altogether.

We moved a lot growing up, so school was always a social challenge for me. I remember starting kindergarten near the end of the year and remaining in that school throughout 1^st grade. I had a group of friends, although I was very “shy,” and had very few issues with anxiety that I recall. The rest of my childhood education was not as easy.

From grades 2 to 4, I remember very little (most likely because we had moved several times, often to new states as well as schools.) In fact I can't say for sure if I even attended school during my 2 grade year.

I do remember one thing during those years in school: being afraid to raise my hand, or be called on.

I didn’t speak if I didn’t have to. And even then I limited myself mostly to saying I don’t know. (Even though I often knew the right answers.) Generally, I wasn’t called on much for that reason.

I didn’t raise my hand for anything. And there was nothing on earth that could make me. Not even the call of nature. But of course, you can’t hold it forever- as I found out time and time again.

I wet my pants more than a few times in grade school. The possibility of avoiding shame and embarrassment by staying in my seat until everyone had left the room, seemed more likely than the 100% certainty that would come if I raised my hand. Besides, I could hold it with general success. And I couldn’t raise my hand.

Fourth grade is the only year I remember having what I perceived was a normal kid’s school life. I had friends, a bully, tests and field trips, and very little anxiety. I raised my hand in class. Sometimes I only thought I knew the answer, but I wasn’t afraid. And even when I answered wrong, I still raised my hand the next time.

It was also the only year I began, and finished, in the same school as the previous year.

We moved the following winter. I began 5^th grade in a new school, in a new town, but would not finish out the year.

I never returned to school until I was 23. I passed the GED by the skin of my teeth and proceeded to fail college over the next several years.

It’s hard to guess what my academic life may have been like had my family not bounced around so much. But I’m fairly confident that, although my test scores may have remained similar, my social skills, and consequently my college efforts would have greatly benefited from a more stable upbringing. 

It would only later become evident, in my teenage years, how utterly unprepared I was to participate in the coming world. I came into adulthood with little to say, and even less knowledge on operating in a social world- and thus, had with little to do with it.

I believe it was Socrates who said, (paraphrasing) 'say nothing, do nothing, be nothing.' And I was nothing for a long time.

It took years to learn how to raise my hand again; and even longer still to raise it without fear.

surprise I'll reprisal.

Did you really think it was over? Me too. But as I sit in bed alone, away from the warmth of loving arms (and paws,) I ponder, I think, I dwell, and I remember. Remembering sucks. And what brought on this remembering, pondering, dwelling, thinking and sucking, was a late and sleepless night of sifting through pictures and delving back in time without the muted benefits of a prescription fed brain. But admit it; you've missed me. I know I have.

I feel like I've been living some one else's life for so many years. I'd forgotten what the drugs subdue. I'd forgotten about those pesky sads and feels. Yet somehow, by having myself drugged away for a time, I've found peace. Or so I thought. Well yes. The truth is that things have been going well for "me." Or the "me" that I've been playing at. But still. . . It seems tonight as though I have come back from hiatus and dawned that old skin; the one that never healed properly before, but just set aside to be mended later. Well it's later, and I'm still wounded.

Looking back I see then that I was eager for drugs. I was eager for anything that could numb me. My passion for life had been drowned in a series of misplaced trust and confidence. It's no wonder I wanted to kill myself at times. And it's no wonder too that when suicide proved useless, and things like trust and confidence became futile, there was little else to be done but to shed my self and allow whatever remained to be numbed by whatever kept the social wolves away.

I quit writing music. I didn't know how anyway. I couldn't feel it. Lyrics became forced and cliche. Music had no emotion anymore. It was just noise. Noise I didn't want to hear. Music rarely touched my mind.

I couldn't find the time or energy to go exploring, or hiking. My camera became yet another outdated dead piece of technology that sat in a drawer. It had taken all the pictures I cared to see or think about. In fact, I hardly looked at them anymore, as my computer fell into disrepair. I simply didn't care. Or maybe I didn't have the nerve to continue with them. It seemed as though the spirit of the things had died. And now they were near forgotten relics of some one's life I used to live.

I still wanted. I still had desire. I just couldn't define what I was in want of. I tended to my work, and the yard. I never concerned myself with things beyond those unless pressed. I left myself but one good friend and dared not allow any others. I retreated into my mind more than I had since I was a small child. The world beyond my bones did not concern me. Much of me was locked away. The rest was subdued. I have never been more depressed than the times I've been treated with drugs for depression.

But in all that dismal day-to-day, I found a value in staying busy that I had never seen before. I found stability in it. I've never felt stability before. It's different than feeling stable, or being stable. Feeling stability in one's self for the first time is subtle, and takes time to realize the feeling. For this reason it's unlikely that most people wouldn't recognize the feeling, having probably become accustomed to it at a much younger age than I. But when you're an adult experiencing stability of self for the first time, once you have recognized it enough to look back on it and see it, it is a profound emotion; an empowering emotion. Although it may take, yet again, a lengthy time to reveal, the tools you will have moving forward can change a person's life. Maybe yours.

So I've ditched the pills. They served their purpose in their time and now that time has ended. They taught my brain how to live knuckled down without needing to erupt. And that's a skill I don't plan to forget. But now it's time to un-inprison my wrongfully convicted brain and let it do what it always has, unimpeded and with new conviction. It will never find peace and happiness otherwise. Viva la brain! Viva, Love, Music!

Viva! Hillbilly Flyer

we come to an End.

if i'm being honest the time is well past this story's ending. i never seem to know how to exit. the friends i've made have mostly all gone now. i move in different circles than when i began, nearly seven years ago. to continue writing on this blog, the greatest years of my life, seems dishonest now, since my life is so radically changed.
have they been the greatest years? in some ways, yes. but in many, the answer is an unsurprising no.
i originally titled this blog as the worst year of my life, having began it nearly a year after the events in the first post. but when the mood of it all seemed to carry on into my daily life i continued writing, and eventually changed the title to the current The Greatest Years of My Life, a somewhat pessimistic and intentionally ironic theme under which i continued to pen.
although being intentionally ironic concerning the many woes of which i'd write, i was not at all ignorant to the fact that, though the times were tough, i was undoubtedly better off for enduring them, as my character was being unavoidably defined through these years. thus, the wisdom of the title has continued to inspire me to see beyond whatever my circumstances might have been as i have maintained this biographical irony; although, that fact is probably not well represented to the reader.
I do maintain that the years herein documented have produced some of my most critical moments in life, where the development of my character is concerned, as well as some of my most cherished. But as i stated above, there is such a distance between my life today and that of years past, that i feel it is best to end this chapter and begin another.
I cannot speak to the truth of this blog, only that it is true from my perspective. I wouldn't apologize for anything written here that hasn't already been addressed herein for the reason stated previously, that it is true to me, as well as being completely honest at the time it was written. Some may take issue with that, or other things left unresolved, that is their right, and i won't blame them. I too take issue with much of what I've written. I have never been one to accept what is left unresolved and move on from it unchanged. But as it seems to be an impossibility to close the book permanently on select events in one's life, i have little recourse but to move on from those things left unfinished and suffer them as dignified as i can, in relative silence.
I will never have accomplished the things i set out to do and didn't. Obviously there is nothing to be done for those things already done or not done. All i can do is look forward. And if the universe is kind enough to present to me a second chance at opportunities once passed, it will not be because of second chances at all; rather, the time for those things had, in reality never come at all, but will be presented then for the first time. Life is always ready on time. It's never late, or passed up. It never comes early for some more fortunate than ourselves. Things happen when they do. There is little use in energy spent assuming we are somehow not where we are meant to be. I am in life, at the point i am, not because i put myself here; but because it is my place in the cosmos, and no one else's.
It can be challenging to realize at times, but everything really is just as it's meant to be.
Of course I am human, and being so, i am not without regret. But those things are either plainly represented in this blog, or will continue to challenge me.
I will of course continue to write. I couldn't stop if i wanted to. However, it is time to acknowledge that the ironic "greatest years of my life" are indeed over, and perhaps have lapsed over into a not-so-ironic new chapter of life.
It would be too presumptuous to claim the coming years as anything greater than a new adventure and chapter of life. But i do look forward to what lies ahead with anticipation that mirrors those moments of peace that have been so rare before. I no longer fear what lies ahead because of what i leave behind. I fear what lies ahead because it is unknown to me. It is a strange and unfamiliar feeling to look forward in life rather than over my shoulder. My anxiety is no longer fueled by thoughts of what i might be leaving behind as i press forward, but instead i am anxious to shed my yesterdays and see tomorrow, although i feel wholly unprepared for its coming.
Thank you for reading, and for your comments. I hope you will follow me as i step forward in the journey of life and consciousness. I hope i will remain honest in my writing and continue to share with the world my one perspective out of the billions of others out there.
My new blog "An Overactive Universe" will begin soon. Until then, thanks for reading, and farewell.