Do Something

Always default to action. Doing the wrong thing is better than nothing; doing nothing is itself a choice with consequences; those consequences are rarely good. Doing nothing means you don’t change, you stagnate, while the world around you moves forward; you are left behind.

Action does not have to be great. A small step leads to its own reward; reinforcement. Internal validation; that sense of accomplishment however small.

Take whatever action you can, even if it seems wrong. If it is wrong then you have gained experience from it. You have learned how not to act in the future.

Next time the action will not seem so daunting because you’ve tried it once.

The best motivation is, of course, success. It does not have to be great success. One more rep than last time means you have become stronger.

Blowing out after you get her number rather than failing at the approach means you are making progress.

Publishing a work, however rough, means you have stayed with something long enough to finish it.

Making a single dollar of your dreams helps you realize that what you want is, however hard, at least possible.

I let this blog linger too long in silence while I majored in the minors, caught up in every day drama, illness, burn out and other excuses.

Consider this post as a small action to get me back on the path.

Tomorrow I shall have an announcement

 

It Is Never The Right Time

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Waiting for the right time is a trap. It is a way of justifying your cowardice. Days of ‘it not being the right time now’ easily turn into years of lost opportunity. If you see a girl who takes your breath away but are afraid to approach her because your life is not in order then you are a coward. Your life will never be in order. You will always find some little problem to hide behind.

Perfection is another word we all hide behind. Waiting for the perfect moment. There is no perfect moment; the perfect moment is one we make. Guys hide out in the gym, waiting for just another half inch on the bicep before they go for girls. Years later they are still waiting for that magic half inch that will solve all their problems.

There is a simple way to know if it is the right time to do something; if you want it and don’t have it then its the right time to try and get it. Lonely and want a girlfriend then today is the best day to get one. When you finally have the made crib, with the large bank roll that will be sure to get the bitches you also have many more lonely nights under your belt, each adding their own stamp of bitterness on your heart.

Realizing its never the right time is nowhere more important than when it comes to chasing your dreams. I have learned this the painful way and I have eight years worth of lost time and regret; eight years of waiting for the perfect moment that never came. I have always wanted to be a writer and now I near the end of my first novel (with others in progress); my life is not in order, I do not have the perfect writer’s set up, a waiting audience, a nice little back up fund to cover my expenses…all I have is the pain that you feel when you finally take action you have been putting off and realize how many years you squandered waiting for the right time. The more you put something off the bigger that eventual regret will be and when you finally get to it and find how easy it is, all those wasted years will haunt you.

So what are you putting off for the right time that you could today? Be honest and I’ll think you’ll find there is nothing holding you back except your own fear.

Short Story: For the Greater Good

I put this up here with three requests of decreasing importance:

1. Spread this far and wide across the web. The more I am read the better. Being read matters more to me than anything else.

2. Give me honest feedback. This is the first piece of fiction I have ever published. Be cruel, be kind but above all be honest.

3. Pay me what you think it is worth, if you think it is worth anything.
If you cannot afford to do that then pay me what you can.

————————————————————————

The knock was forceful, insistent. The occupant of the house scurried down the hall, slipping his coat on in an effort to afford himself the carefully cultivated dignity he prided himself on. He swung the stained glass door open to find the serious, somber face of his friend, the recently promoted Minister of Health Care.

“Good morning,” the occupant said, “this is rather early.”

“Good morning. I am here on official business.” The minister replied heavily.

“Of course. Now that the Euthanasia bill has passed and the new ministry has been established I imagine you must have a lot of paperwork to sort out.”

“Definitely.” The minister agreed, “You see how it is. You campaigned so hard for Euthanasia. You convinced enough of the public that it was in the greater good to reserve expensive and essential health care for those who contributed the most to society. The greatest good for the greatest number and all those fancy philosophical arguments you used.”

The occupant laughed, “Utilitarianism is the word you’re looking for.”

The Minister smiled, “Yes, utilitarianism. What I admire about you is that you hold controversial and, some would say, outright psychopathic views because you truly believe in them, not because it makes you seem edgy.”

“Thank you.” The man replied, “I take it you’ve come for my help?”

“In a way.” The Minister replied, “Let me just say again how grateful we are for your strenuous efforts in convincing enough people that this is right thing to do.”

“How can it not be? There is not enough health care and services, not to mention money, to support these people wasting a disproportionate amount, especially since they are never going to add back into society the amount currently being used to keep them alive.”

“I’m glad I can count on your continued support.” The minister said.

“So what do you need my help with? Do you want me on the review committee?”

“Not necessary. We have the actuaries all over it. They have been comparing health costs to projected tax revenues all week. Already they have identified six thousand units that need removal.”

“Of course.” The man agreed, “I am not big with numbers. So what is it you do need me for?”

The Minister reached into the pocket of his coat and removed a simple, white envelope. “My friend, what we need from you is help with public relations?”

“Always ready to be of assistance to the government.” The man replied,

“That’s what we like to hear.” The Minister replied, “Otherwise it would have made this very hard.”

“Would have made what hard?” The man replied, his face innocently reflected in the glass coffee table.

“I regret to inform you that the Department of HealthCare, Euthanasia and Aging Review Panel for the Continuous healthcare expenditure has found that your need for a transplant is not sustained, and further that the costs of continuing your health care far outweigh the benefits to the public utility of keeping you alive.”

The man slumped back forward in his seat, color seeped from his face into the coffee table. He grabbed desperately at the Minister’s coat.

“But I was the one who convinced people that Euthanasia was right.” He cried, sliding from his chair onto his knees

“I know. That was your past contribution and we’re very grateful. Your name will go down in history. However, there is nothing more you can contribute to society. You are not a tradesman, or a laborer, or a scientist, or a cook. We have advertising and marketing experts who can help us spice the message up for the public. You are not qualified for any position within government.” The Minister’s face softened, “I am truly sorry, I am. But you must understand it’s for the greater good.”

“But I make people think. I challenge their preconceptions.”

The Minister sighed, “And the types of people who urge others to question authority are just the sort of people that are not valued by any government. You convinced others that society ought to come before the individual and in your case I am afraid society is asking you to do what’s best for the rest of us. It’s nothing personal you understand? And like I said, there is still the final matter of publicity I need you to help us out with?”

The man’s eyes glimmered with hope. “Anything,” he begged.

“We want you to be first person to voluntarily undertake euthanasia out of utilitarian necessity. And look happy about it. We need you to show others how good it is. How you’re doing your duty for the common good. How it isn’t really murder, but it’s about doing what’s best for society. Isn’t that right?”

(c) 2013: The author retains copyright and permits reproduction so long as due
acknowledgment of T.G.R White’s authorship is granted and a link back to
the original material is included within the reproduction. No permission for commercial
use is granted without prior written consent.

It ain’t about how hard you hit…

My thanks to M3 for referencing one of my posts and giving me the spur I needed to resume posting.

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.” – Teddy Roosevelt.

This blog has been silent since November 22nd. That week I took an insane risk. I bet my time, ambition and fortune on bold action; to risk all on one toss of fate’s dice…and I lost. I moved halfway across the country to grasp at a new opportunity, to shake my foundations, to test myself; and I failed. I almost hit rock bottom and I lost all my savings.

I spent nights sleeping in my car. I was literally counting the days until my money ran out. Cause and effect being incestuous, I can’t say whether my fear of looming destitution added to my ill health or I my ill health increased my fear…all I know is that life gave me a beating.

The moment I needed all my strength and determination I ended up with a raging infection. Life really likes to boot a man when he’s down. No money, no job and at one point I had barely the energy to walk downstairs. When I began to hit the depths of self pity I knew I was circling the drain.

Just as success compounds so does failure. As one part of your life falls away so does the rest. Finally I am making a comeback. I am still recovering health wise and financially I am in bad shape, and will be for a while. I am back in the fight though.

I realized that my failures are my own doing, subconsciously. I never really wanted to succeed. I was chasing someone else’s dream. Maybe it was the dream of my old self. It was not my dream; I did not desire it enough to put in the required effort.

Yet I am now focused more clearly than ever on what I do want. In fact, I was purposefully distracting myself from what I really wanted because I fear it. I fear finding out I am not good enough. I fear being judged. I fear being vulnerable. To see a man’s dream is to see into his soul.

My dream is to be a writer. One day a great writer. Today I will settle for accomplished mediocrity. With that in mind I intend to post a short story here next week. I also intend to update regularly again. Being extensively quoted by a blog as widely read as 3rd Millenium Men, and feeling awe at my own words viewed afresh, is a taste of my dream realised; nothing is as sweet or as encouraging.

Breaking News

The People of the United States today announced that they were restructuring their country and would be outsourcing their government positions. Joe Sixpack, a spokesperson for the People of the United States, had this to say, “In these difficult financial times you have to save money where you can. Unfortunately government positions have become too expensive and in order to generate more savings for our tax payers we are going to be outsourcing government to India.”

Mr Sixpack went on to add this reassurance, “Listen, I know that government is a vital contributor to the GDP of any country but the bottom line is we can no longer justify the salaries and expenses we’ve been paying these people. In an age of interconnectedness and communication there is no reason that someone in India could not pass laws and start wars just as well as someone in Washington. The days of needing to actually be in the same room reading a paper bill is passed and its time the United States moved on into the 21st century.”

Mr Obama, who holds a senior government position with the United States, was shocked and saddened. “They’re going to take my house. My wife, my two girls, we’ll be out on the street. I have no marketable skills. Being a politician is all I know.”

Mr Sixpack had this to say to Mr Obama, “We are going to offer voluntary reskilling for all current politicians who are interested. We will try to find them something that will employ all their talents. We’ve had a great deal of interest from the fertiliser industry. Mr Obama should not worry, with his ability to read from a teleprompter and his photogenic looks we believe he would be better suited for a role as a news reader.”

The United States has been in a dire financial situation for some time and this is its last chance of avoiding insolvency. Critics have slammed the United States of thinking of the hip pockets of tax payers before thinking of the needs of politicians.

In a sign of solidarity bureaucrats have begun strike action to try to prevent the outsourcing of political positions. One unnamed source had this to say, “With no red tape, no parking inspectors, no tax collectors, how long can this country last?”

Following the announcement by the United States that they were outsourcing their political positions the market soared with investors clamoring to by United States Bonds. The consequent strike action of bureacrats has led investors clamoring to try and invest in the United States. The Indian dollar meanwhile has hit an all time low in response to the news.

What I get out of the manosphere

There are many reasons I could give for why I am a part of the manosphere. In a time of self censorship, intellectual emptiness and nihilistic frivolity the loose collection of blogs referred to as the manosphere for the sake of convenience represents one the final frontiers of free and interesting thought. Are we the last philosophers of a dying age?

The emphasis on improvement, excellence and self mastery leads me to believe that this corner of the internet will be influential; the ideas found here will help shape the lives of the current generation of young man; the generation who, coming of age on the cusp of the greatest upheaval in history, will be faced with choices and actions that will determine the course of world. Are we the architects of the next Renaissance?

Those are two great reasons to be a part of the manosphere, and they are why I keep reading. I write for a different reason though. I don’t write because I have something to say. I have said most of what I wanted to say about the world, I’ve had my red pill awakening and all the rants that go with it. They are a web of long forgotten comments across blogs and a mess of archived forum posts which would make me cringe if I were to read them today.

I write because I want to be a writer. It was passion as a kid right through most of high school, before the education system beat it, along with my curiosity and drive, out of me. I then made all the wrong choices (the correct choices in the eyes of society). I have been paying for those mistakes ever since. I have been attempting to correct five years worth of mistakes. I have improved many aspects of my life but there is one thing I have always put off. A dream is a terrible thing to have. You are scared to tell of it others because it makes you vulnerable. You are scared to try and grasp it lest it disappear. I always put off trying to be a writer; to grasp my dream.

I always put if off for the right time; it’s never the right time. I have begun and left many stories unfinished. Ideas blossom and wilt untouched. Time passes swiftly; the more you improve your life, the faster it passes as you look constantly toward the horizon, rarely paying attention to the here and now. When your life has no purpose, drive, dedication; when you are not constantly striving for self improvement, life moves slowly, time stretches on forever, dull moments needing constantly filling; constant distraction; counting off the seconds of the clock of life.

I took my eyes off the horizon and realized too much time had passed. I had improved my life greatly but I had been avoiding what I really wanted, and therefore feared. Our wants and desires have power over us. Fear of loss. Far worse though is fear of finding out you were never good enough. Never overcoming that fear leads to mediocrity; to a life of regret.

I started this blog on the spur of the moment with one goal; to write. I had no purpose for this blog and my half thought out debut post reflects that. My goal was simply to keep myself writing; to keep myself accountable.

I have succeeded. I have written more since I began this blog than I have written since I left high school. I hope to have my first novel published within a few months and a few short stories even sooner. Since I began this blog I have mirrored it with dedication in my life unmatched by anything I have done before.

That is what I get out of this blog.

I want to be a writer. It was passion as a kid through most of high school, before the education system beat that, along with my curiosity and drive, out of me. I then made all the wrong choices (the correct choices in the eyes of society). I have been paying for those mistakes ever since and I have been attempting to correct five years worth of mistakes. I have improved many aspects of my life but there is one thing I have always put off. A dream is a terrible thing to have. You are scared to tell of it others because it makes you vulnerable. You are scared to try and grasp it lest it disappear. I always put off trying to be a writer; to grasp my dream.

I always put if off for the right time; its never the right time. I have began and left many projects unfinished. Ideas blossom and wilt untouched. Time passes swiftly; the more you improve your life the faster it passes as you look constantly toward the horizon rarely paying attention to the here and now. When your life has no purpose, drive, dedication; when you are not constantly striving for self improvement life moves slowly, time stretches on forever, dull moments needing constantly filling; constant distraction; counting off the seconds of the clock of life.

I took my eyes off the horizon and realized too much time had passed. I had improved my life greatly but I had been avoiding what I really wanted, and therefore feared. Our wants and desires have power over us. Fear of loss. Far worse though is fear of finding out you were never good enough. Never overcoming that fear leads to mediocrity; to a life of regret.

I started this blog on the spur of the moment with one goal; to write. I had no purpose for this blog and my half thought out debut post reflects that. My goal was simply to keep myself writing; to keep myself accountable.

I have succeeded. I have wrote more since I began this blog than I have wrote since I left high school. I hope to have my first novel published within a few months and a few short stories even sooner. Since I began this blog I have mirrored it with dedication in my life unmatched by anything I have done before.

What do you get of the manosphere?

Interesting things are happening around the manosphere

Mojo has declared he is closing his blog. He feels he has lost his zest; outgrown the persona of Mojo; outgrown the passion that drove him into blogging. This seems to be a natural progression within the manosphere; or rather a natural progression that predates the manosphere.

The best manosphere blogs are those wrote entirely for the author; for the author to sort out his thoughts – teaching others shows we truly understand what we have learned. Mojo warns that without action we cannot truly claim to have achieved anything. We understand, and yet, we do not understand. Welcome to the world of keyboard jockeying.

A long time ago I was a clueless omega and I needed help. I found a now defunct (I hope) internet forum. Amongst the incessant shit I found pearls of wisdom; I found game for the first time. It changed my life. I spent a lot of time writing long winded posts and arguing with posters I didn’t know, or want know, over topics I didn’t really care about. I was going through the hardest transition of my life, unlearning and relearning so many things. So much red pill truth that the only way I could cope was to write post after post, essay after essay. I became a guide to newbies. At the same time I started putting into practice what I preached. Eventually I moved on from that forum and to other things.

The first time I hit rock bottom looked that forum back up. The same people stuck in the same ruts. Endless KJing, endless debate and no one had changed. Thankfully I found Roissy. I spent time in his comments arguing over trivialities and trying to call others out for their betatude. I didn’t comment much and I left after a while; real life beckoned.

The second time I hit rock bottom I returned to Roissy for a refresher of game and some inspiration. His comment thread was now a monstrosity of KJing and paper alphas trying to one up each other. Luckily the manosphere was in its prime; its scope encompassing everything a man needed to improve himself and reach new heights. I rarely commented much. I knew most of it already, I just wanted reminding.

I have been in and out of the manosphere since that time and I see something which disgusts me, a rise of KJ alphas arguing endlessly over theory. Hiding out online, trying to perfect technique with years of their life passing, the world changing, they remaining static. A week of real life practice is worth more than a year of theory.

Game is learned in the field just as muscle building is learned in the gym and so it is with all aspects of self improvement.

A year from now will you still be reading, looking for the perfect approach, or blogging away about bitches and whores are ruining the world or will you be taking action…the question is, whether you are a lurker, commenter or blogger, what do you get out of the manosphere?

Tomorrow I will say what I get out of it.

http://mattforney.com/2012/11/14/the-empire-never-ended/?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+MattForney+%28Matt+Forney%29

Everything has its season

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Never go digging into your past. Everything has a season and my time in this town had its season. Its surprising how little it has changed in some ways. Some of the familiar background faces are still there. Three years have passed and yet these people are still stuck in the same routine. I could not think of a greater horror.

Every man has one who got away. For me it was the last girl I had an infatuation with, back in my omega days. She was a mess when I met her. Absolutely beautiful and broken. A monument of abusive relationships, substance addiction, and desperation.

The white knight in me wanted to save her. It nearly destroyed me. She was an emotional vampire and she fed off me whilst she fucked others. I ended up angry and bitter. That anger became a catalyst of self improvement. In a way I owe her, for if I had not met her I might never have found the dedication to turn my life around; to get revenge on her.

Revenge never came. What came instead was other girls. Younger, hotter girls. A long time later I met the one who got away. I was different. She was the same. I had the game, the charisma, to conquer her. I was still a beta at heart and passed up a sure thing. It haunts me still; unfinished business. It drove Dante to create a masterpiece of literature.

Those tortured memories haunt me and drive me. There is a saying that behind every great man is a woman but never the woman he married.

I pictured her an aging spinster careening into the wall, ravaged from years of abuses. Yet I still feel the obsession stirring within; I must have her just once.

Instead I have heard from a mutual acquaintance that she is married and has a kid. Very happy was the phrase he used. Time moves on. The past cannot be recaptured. I am not the same person I was when I left this town; when I knew her.

She is not the same person either; her youth is going, her beauty would not be what it was in the time I knew her. The girl who haunts my memories, whose body I long to touch, lips I long to kiss, is a figment of the past; she is dead and cannot ever be found.

Whoever this woman is with the same name and same face cannot be the muse of my youth. That business shall forever remain unfinished; I am a different man. I have the future to look forward to.