Tag Archives: red pill

Time Flies

Its just over my one year anniversary of starting this blog. I created this blog with the intention of keeping myself consistent with my writing. It didn’t happen. This is the first time I’ve logged on in over a month. I haven’t posted for months. I outgrew this blog ages ago. I also outgrew my main project, which was a semi autobiographical novel about the malaise of modern manhood (read the prologue here).

I wanted to see whether I could finally stick to something and finish it. A year later and my perspective has changed. The Autobuiography of a Modern Male was torturous to write and it served more as a conduit to get some unresolved issues onto paper then as an aspiring literary masterpiece. I am procrastinating about finishing it and this is effecting everything else I want to do. I have almost an entire novel sitting around doing nothing and I cannot bing myself to scrap it even though I cannot bring myself to finish it.

Instead I plan to edit it (a bit) and put it up here for free. I ask that you pay me what you feel it is worth and spread it as much as you can. It is raw, it is passionate, it is based in truth (in places word for word as best I can recall). I should have it up by next week.

If The Autobiography of a Modern Male meets with enough interest and positive feedback I will finish it properly and stick it on Amazon for $2.99.

I don’t intend to update this blog regularly (or at all). This blog, like many others who have come and gone within the manosphere, is but a reflection where the writer is really talking to himself. This blog was really the penultimate conglomerate of a world view shaped slowly over the course of four years as I adapted to red pill reality. I have now reached the point where I no longer need to convince myself and thus find I have no passion to drive my on. I could do as many other blogs do and make periodic and mundane posts just to sustain a readership but I find the thought of pursuing such mediocrity more than I can handle.

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Who are you, really?

We like to imagine ourselves as the hero in our little narrative. We view ourselves differently than the world views us. Every gamma/omega secretly believes he is a lone wolf, a rugged individualist outcast. I believed that was who I was. The world viewed me differently. To the world I was nothing more than a shy loser, unnoticed and unnoticeable. I was reminded of this recently when I was contacted by a man who fills the shoes I once did.

The host of Rise Of the Omega, a new blog with potential, sent me an email (and I figured what better excuse to get back to posting) thanking me for introducing him to the manosphere.* In his initial post he says:

“That was me. I wanted to deny it but that was me. After I had read TGR White’s entire archive I followed the links from his blog to the rest of the mansophere. It was terrible. A harsh wake up call. I had always believed myself the cool loner but in reality I was the loser.”

which echoed my own sentiments upon finding pick up years ago (and here I quote the prologue to my still upcoming masterpiece:

‘It hurt. For the first time I had to look at myself honestly and it hurt. I did not realize what a loser I was.’

Finding out you are not who you think you are is harsh. It destroys you. Your entire life is formulated on the foundation of how you view yourself. You are faced with a choice: either you accept the reality that your identity is false and thus destroy the foundation of your life or else you double down and dig yourself deeper, burying yourself under layers of delusion and shrinking your world to those who reaffirm your belief in your view of yourself.

The longer you fail to confront the reality that the world views you different than you view yourself the further down the path of inevitability you are. I am not suggesting that changing is impossible but that the more of you life you build upon the false view of yourself the harder it is to accept reality, and the ensuing destruction of your world, and the more likely you are to double down. Each step you take down the wrong path in life makes it that much harder to correct.

Imagine your life as an ever widening path. The far left of the path represents where you are, no matter how you view yourself. The far right of the path is who you could be (and is often similar to how you view yourself). Each step further down the left makes the right side of the path further away. With each step you take it becomes that much less likely you will correct your trajectory.

And before I wander anymore from the point of this post: Does the world see you as you see yourself? Be honest?

What can you do to improve how the world sees you, to make you truly into the person you think you, the person you could be?

Who are you really?

*. Apparently another of my posts made reddit sometime in my absence.**

** I have been fulfilling the requirements to obtain a second year visa. I am planning on resuming posting regularly now that I am back in Civilization. I also plan to do a post on how America appears from the outside.

Prologue: The Loser I was

The Autobiography of a Modern Male

By TGR White

I slumped back in my computer chair, dick in my hand as the legacy of another night of porn dripped down my bare leg. The blessedness of orgasm passes away and all that remains is the hollowness within my chest. A longing for human contact…wanting to curl up next to a woman, to hold her in my arms.

Through the thin wall I could hear the ecstatic moans as the girl of my dreams is fucked by another man. His grunts mingled with her heated cries of passion.

I was 21 and I had never had sex, never kissed a girl, never so much as held hands. In the animal kingdom I was the loser of the pack; the outcast; doomed to die alone.

I cleaned myself up; a nightly ritual. Shame and disgust shoved away the emptiness in my chest as I looked at the last movie clip still playing on my screen, searing its way into my subconscious. A middle aged woman, comely but not attractive, her face twisted in agony as her ass was mercilessly flogged by a fat dominatrix.

Next door my love screamed in orgasm as her latest bad boy pounded away. It should have been me in there. How did it come to this?

My obsession, nay addiction, with porn began in high school. When I was fourteen my parents bought our family’s first computer. My parents were not very computer literate and I had no trouble getting around their net filter. It began with photos of hot, naked women back when kilobytes were a big deal. By the time I was sixteen I had stumbled onto bondage photos. It was edgier, novel, degrading; alluring.

Every spare moment I had without anyone else in the house I would be on the computer, dick in hand, straining for sounds of a vehicle coming up the drive. My grades did not suffer but my social life did. I did not bother trying to chase girls with the zeal of my classmates. While other guys were losing their virginity I was beating off the kinky and the twisted. While others thought about prom I thought about tit torture. I had never been a social person and I became a complete loner and loser.

In college I rented the room of a house and spent my time alone, jerking it to porn. By now I was onto movies.

The worst of it was that I thought this made me part of the bondage community. I thought I knew the bondage models; thought that I belonged. I was not some vanilla; I was part of the scene. I was hardcore.

Porn does not kiss you, cuddle you or whisper secrets in your ear; porn doesn’t make you feel human; not yet anyway…

That is how, at the age of nineteen, I found myself a porn addicted anti social asexual loser. As far as life went, I sucked at it.

At the time I thought I loved her. In truth it was a childish infatuation. Her name was Sophie. She was nothing but the woman whom I elevated to the place of goddess and upon whom I placed all my desires, insecurities and neurotic hang ups. I believed that through her I could find Salvation; escape myself. How typical is that of the modern male? So uneasy within himself that he desires to lose himself in a woman? The first time I saw her I thought she was beautiful because she looked so sad, so broken, so in need of saving.

Sophie came into my life just when the agony of porn induced loneliness was making me think of changing my life. She was naturally vibrant and gregarious; as stark contrast to me. I decided she was the One. The special girl I would lose my virginity. I had no idea how to approach a girl, how to ask her out. A million ridiculous, pathetic and absolutely cringe-worthy ideas ran through my head. I still believed that magic just spontaneously happens, that somehow our first kiss would be accompanied by fireworks to a background Disney track.

I was a twenty year old guy and I still believed in fairytales.

Instead of making a move I hesitated. If I ever had any chance I wasted it away due to my fear. Fear of being rejected, of being laughed at. If I was not already there I crashed head first into the friend zone. She needed a new housemate and I jumped at the idea. I imagined domestic bliss and sex.

 There was not domestic bliss. There was sex. The first weekend after I moved in she bought some big guy back from the club. He could probably not spell his own name. It didn’t matter. He got to fuck her, to taste the sweat on her breast, to stare into her eyes at the moment of climax; I jacked off in my room. I was nearly twenty one.

There was no great moment of inspiration, no heart warming music, no great speeches or defining event; this is real life and life changing moments are seldom recognized at the time. Often they are only recognizable so far in the future that when you look back your memory is clouded. It was one too many nights of loneliness. Maybe my loneliness finally outweighed my fears. Maybe I was sick of hearing some other guy fucking the woman who should have been mine.

 All I can remember is that my life changed the night I found the pick up forum. Losers like me who discussed the best ways to get laid; who practised and practised until they found themselves swimming in a sea of pussy.

It hurt. For the first time I had to look at myself honestly and it hurt. I did not realize what a loser I was. I honestly don’t remember how I found the forum; all I know is that once I found it I couldn’t stop reading. The same stories over and over again from the same sort of guys. My story over and over again.

I was a loser in high school…I’ve never had sex…never had girlfriend….how do I get her to fall in love with me…want sex…want a girlfriend…scared to talk to girls…

And the advice came. I saved pages of tales, tips and tricks from aspiring and novice pick up artists. Make eye contact. Be cocky and funny. Neg to lower her Bitch Shield. Don’t be like every other Average Frustrated Chump. Use a canned opener to begin with. If you can, use a situational opener. Comment on something about her. Agree and Amplify. Get her in a sexual state. Mirror Her Body Language. Improve yourself. Workout. Dress Better. Get a Haircut. Walk like you have a pair.

The sun was rising when I finally stopped reading. I didn’t want to change who I was. I liked who I was. The hollow feeling in my chest said otherwise. Tomorrow I would begin. Tomorrow I begin my journey to becoming an alpha male pick up artist.

“The Autobiography of a Modern Male” copyright (c) 2013 by TGR White. All rights reserved. No part of this may be reproduced for any commercial use without prior written approval from the author.
 

The Future is Here

I called it! In a comment here at Vox Popoli I claimed that it may be possible would be used to print guns. Yesterday Bill posted a video showing that it has already happened. When I made that comment on VP I didn’t expect to see 3D printed guns for at least a few years. The world is changing so fast that what seems like science fiction is increasingly becoming mundane.

The full implications of 3D printing have yet to be realized. This is a disruptive technology on par with the original printing press, fire, guns and the factory. Printing guns is only the start. Whilst current 3D printing technology may be beyond the capacity for understanding for most people (myself included) what we have today will be, from a historical perspective, the equivalent of the first revolver.

3D printing will change life and economics permanently. With the ability to manufacture crap much easier (and eventually cheaper) than some third world slave it will undermine many countries whose economy is based on manufacturing cheap shit for America’s uncontrollable consumption. Nothing says that China does not already have an army of 3D printers flooding the market with cheap crap (or building firearms already). The Chinese may not be great innovators but they are second to none at reverse engineering

The idea and mindset behind 3D printing will cause us to look at others way of approaching problems at an everyday level. Imagine a 3D printer for cooking. Add all the ingredients and the thing spits out a cake or a meal. All you have to do is keep the various dispensers topped up. Hell, some innovative basement dwelling Japanese herbivore is probably building a 3D printer capable of manufacturing sex bots.

Whilst you think sexbots the government will probably be thinking more along the lines of this:

As with any game changing technology it promises freedom. Freedom frightens totalitarians. Expect governments to try to control the distribution of 3D printing (will fail) and then they will force manufacturers to start installing reporting technology in all printers they sell, so the gov can see what you are printing. At the other end the government will be monitoring everything that is downloaded and printed off. Since all your internet history is already recorded its unavoidable.

The next great battle for freedom will be evading the eyes of and tendrils of big brother. Hackers who can get around the printer limitations and monitoring will be the freedom fighters of the future. By the way, government infiltrates hacker groups, so be leery of who you ask for advice. Anonymous is run by government shills, hence its toothlessness.

The other ramification will be the change in jobs. With less need for manufacturing more people will be forced into the service sector. With less laboring positions we should have less need for illegals. Hank who used to work in manufacturing can now mow lawns and Jose isn’t really needed but don’t expect anyone in government to point that out soon.

Obvious displays of wealth will be less used since wealth will be cheaper and more easily obtained. Instead, expect people to focus on showing off their status through thrill seeking, gathering experiences, travelling, and consuming non renewable resources such as food, alcohol etc.

Non renewable resources and raw materials will see a huge boost in their relative value, at least at first. Eventually recycling used materials for 3D printing will be a huge industry. In the distant future (which, given the unforeseeable advance of technology means it could actually be very soon) 3D printers may themselves be able to break down components and recycle them into new things. To us that sounds like science fiction but then again how many years ago would 3D printing itself have seemed like distant science fiction.

To continue on the theme of fiction, Vox once made a comment that modern sci-fi writers suck because they cannot understand modern technology. A prescient comment and one that will become increasingly obvious as technology continues to become more and more intricate and closer to magic from the perspective of the layman. True Science fiction will slowly die, given way to fantasy set in space (assuming it is not already dead).

Finally to throw in some “emotional pornography”, aka conspiracy theories, aka speculation: The government knew that 3D printing would soon give way to manufacturing firearms so DHS bought up all that ammo to make those guns useless since 3D printers can’t do ammo, yet.

And wait until 3D printers can print 3D printers…

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

 

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.

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