The birth of a "complex"
"Luke" was the name of a Great Dane that we had. The picture above is spookily similar. He used to sleep in my bed and have nightmares that were so bad he'd kick me off the bed until I gave up and slept on the floor.
He was heavier than me when I was 8-10 years old and walking him was an adventure to say the least.
One morning I woke up before School...late...again...and just outside my door was Luke who had taken a massive Great Dane sized dump in the hall. He was moaning and he saw me but I just scolded him and was on my way.
Great Danes have very short life spans. Luke died that day. I stepped over him while he was dying and didn't even know it. His eyes haunt me to this day. I have a blog with a lot of readers. I want to apologize for this. I didn't know. I was 10. He is with me everytime I help an animal. All the animals I care for now have Luke to thank for my penance which helps them. I am paying an eternal debt that will never be paid in full. People without pets will not get this. Others will.
Luke depended on me. I coulda tried to comfort him. He loved me. I loved him. Like for my Mom when she died...I wasn't there. I never am.
This gave me a "complex". One of those pieces that make up the puzzle that is us.
I am a product...at this moment...of every single event that has ever occured in my life up until this very second...a thing could happen at anytime that would effect who I am. My issues have their own issues. Shit...they should have their own bedrooms.
Thing is. Everyone has issues or complexes or insecurities. Someone in the last post implied I might have some??
Are you fucking kidding me? Have you READ this blog?
What you should be asking yourself is ....despite all my trouble, all my issues and history of failure and violence....how in the fuck did I get more than you? I got assets way past 4+3#'s. I got that legally and not so much. They can never take any of it away. They tried to fuck me and missed. They tried to lock me up and throw away the key but I watched them coming. Read their characters. Played them like a fucking kick drum.
Me: Used to have to size up folks quickly cuz trusting the wrong person would be death by Ram or loss of freedom for a long long time.
You: Follow the rules.
Me: Got paid. Made green. Bought property. Rinse,spin....
You: Not too wealthy but convince yourself that it's cool. It ain't about the money.
Me: Run my own gig. Absolutely unique in style and the extras (parties, curriculum etc).
You: Following someone else's orders. Not realizing it's your fault....you coulda done better.
Me: Embracing my issues.
You: Trying to cover em' up.
Everything I have now is related to a complex of not wanting anyone to be able to say they worked harder than me. I was always the first to come and the last to leave. My step dad worked me like a fucking mule and never paid a dime or even said thanks. He had 2 full dump trucks (3 different times) of granite stones dumped on the property and he would have me make a stone walkway into the lake. Little bucket. Maybe 2 or 3 stones at a time. Took weeks to get them to rise up above the water line. Sometimes I'd just have to move a few tons of granite from one spot to the other. He wanted me gone. He wanted me to hate him so much that I'd walk away...far away. After being locked up in a juvenile detention facility he was done.
We both had no idea that this fucking mind game....this slave labor was gonna be the thing that saved me. Hard work was automatic. I could do whatever all fucking day with a smile. Even at minimum it was better than working for him. Hard work is everything. A few lucky encounters helps but if you can't put in work those connects are fucking worthless. I never cut product. I sold what I was given and was happy with the ridiculous profit. I was a holder cuz I was trusted. I have an abnormal sense of honor that seemed to be my best point to Ram.
He brought me to his home. You wouldn't get this. I'm white. He was Black/Samoan/Tongan. His Dad was the scariest man I ever met. That includes the murderer I celled with at O.C.C.C
I was so in my scary world that i never realized how much everyone else was just ...living. A bonus here...a vacation there. Drinking the stresses away.
Yeah...no thanks. I'm runnin shit or getting paid or both. I ain't ever gonna be a bitch for someone like I was for him. That complex is why I own things you can't even rent. Can you afford $1,700 per month in rent? No? Then you couldn't even live for a month in shit I own. Not a bank. Me.
Is there some complex that makes me feel like I need to point this out? Man fuck...of course. It's the same reason I got the shit to rub in folks faces in the first place.
I got a big cock
I say that because people without big cocks have convinced themselves...with the help of women...that size doesn't matter. Yeah...a small dicked man's crutch and the poor women that have to touch it have to think that.I'm a master of the tongue as I've pointed out in previous posts but that's what makes me spectacular as apposed to just big dicked.
Money doesn't bring happiness.
No. I know that personally but I note that a lot of lazy fucks tend to say that cuz they gotz none. You need to find happiness somewhere else cuz you were never strong enough to get paid proper. Your right that it don't bring happiness but you only imagined that correctly. You never had the cashola to really test that theory.
I don't mind working for someone else
You don't have a choice do you? You never worked hard enough to be the boss so now you gotta have one. I do mind. So I always work harder than everyone else...which means I'll never have one....a boss.
Know yourself.
For reasons that mostly have to do with anger management I have been in front of a few Psychiatrists in my life. They, to a man and woman...absolutely sucked. They can't work with anymore than I give them. If I or you hold anything back , they can't read you .
They are worthless. Well paid motivators at best. Usually quite worse though.
Only you know all about you. The best person to dissect you is you. If you can't be honest with yourself and all your failings then your marginal, just enough life... is gonna be about like that forever.
I work hard to rub shit in peoples faces...and yes it's a complex. So what? Maybe if you were more honest to yourself and those around you you'd be in better shape. Nobody has no complexes or issues. THAT would be abnormal.
Most everything that sucks in your life is probably your fault. Don't ever forget that when your half blitzed and you catch yourself in a mirror and you look right into your own eyes and then you break away. You can't even look. Not deeply. Most can't. Next time....hold your stare. Look into your own eyes like a stranger would. What's it feel like? In one of the most amazing revelations in the whole time I have been blogging was seeing this post at Will's place.
You ever tried it. Quiet. No sound. Focus and look into your eyes. Analyze yourself like you would a person who had just offended you in the worst way. Look at you. How do you feel? That's what another person who looks into your eyes feel. They can see you if you let them. Do you want them to? Can you even summon the courage to really see yourself?
Do it once in a while and compare it to the last time. That's "how your doin'". That's you. You O.K.?
I can never go back and kneel next to Luke and tell him I love him....pet his head...make him feel some love from the boy he loved. I can't step back. I can help every animal that I can though. I have and always will. That traumatizing failure and the image of his pain filled eyes were lost on me that morning. I missed it. The big moment. The one where I coulda made a difference. I never take a chance anymore. I try, I check, I double check. Luke's death gave me a complex based in guilt...like they usually are. It was one of the first I accepted.
This post is dedicated to "Luke". A big dog with a bigger heart that gave a little boy a lot of love.
I'm sorry.
