From the previous story: Almeida has been exonerated on all charges. However, his actions and words still indicate he is untrustworthy. To the main article.
So Wednesday I went to a local bar for beer pong. Did pretty decent, about 5-6th place for a first tournament. But I finally enjoyed the decline. It took alcohol, a feminist letting me touch her boobs (admittedly through the medium of a shirt and bra and without accusing rape) and hitting on a girl (lesbian) who looked like she came from an 80’s movie, but I was able to put aside my thoughts and just sit back. Gin and Tonics are a cure for many ills. I’m not gonna lie, 80’s punk chick was likely very crazy, but I wouldn’t mind the experience of sleeping with her.
People I find weird. Some just don’t want to face the decline, or ignore it. Maybe I just want partners in misery. My roommate certainly enjoys the decline to cover the pain he’s experienced. Others just go for their plans, when I can’t seem to find my own. Either way, it’s genuinely hard for me to enjoy life as they do. Part of it is listening to Millennial woes (No connection in name) and reading the Manosphere blogs, but also my immobile nature, and laziness. Going out/hanging out with people may be the prescription for my doom and gloom.
Problem is my introverted nature… but I’ve been introverted for a very long time. It’s hard to break into the social scenes. Silence in a bar is different from silence at home, listening to Welcome to Nightvale while playing a very heavily modded Skyrim or whatever. Writing isn’t interrupted by going to bars, and will probably help me write conversations, which are the bane of my writing existence. The ISFP life is a damn hard thing, but I suppose I could surround myself with beautiful things. Another Kansas City tournament is coming up, and I’m making my A+ game perfect. I’ve also got one more paper to write, and, once everything is done, I’ll post em.
Over Easter I went to my Uncle’s mcmansion. He’s a cold fish but his wife likes me because I notice the stuff she constantly modifies in the house. (this time it was a wrought iron clock that was pretty cool). We can talk about it, and she likes that. I told her I’m looking for a job, and I’m capable of just about everything, but I’m damn good at things like research and writing. Uncle’s a big shot, so he’s got connections, but would just say no if I asked him. So here’s to nepotism. Let it help me like it did the emperors of Rome.
Church though, it did something for me. It smoothed over my mind and calmed me down. Safe place, with the religious calming to recenter the soul. I think that’s part of the application of churches for Christianity. Act as an anti-virus for heresy, blasphemy, sin, etc. and help ground believers in a spiritual way. There is something in true churches that is for believers like me. I know most of my stuff, 100 hours and all that, but there’s something more for me, I need to tap more often. Beyond theology, there is worship after all. Were we not made to sing the glories of God? To be greater than angels in our relationship? To calmly assess the reality. Truth needs a center. Something to spin around, like the point of a top. Sure, shit spins wobbles and so on, but that point of the top stays connected to the table. A sun. Music of the spheres, eh?
Just thought I’d mention I’m doing this. Enjoy the decline. But… don’t be consumed by it. I’ve got decent eats, Edgar Rice Burrough’s Warlord of Mars and a chick coming over to watch Archer later tonight. Not attractive, but practice and company.