A bit about Eric.

Hey, my name is Eric, and I would like to share a love story with you guys.
When I first fell in love, her name was Emma. She was the most beautiful girl I ever knew. The minute I saw her, I knew we were meant to be.
She had wavy, sandy blond hair, and green eyes with the longest lashes, and she had the most beautiful smile I'd ever seen.

Emma and I spent 3 years dating, 3 blissful young years, and I thought I couldn't want more.
But then I did realise I wanted more, and it seemed she did too.
We got married, and we had 2 boys. I loved them so much, they were so talented and beautiful, and Emma was a part of them.

Life was complete. Everything was perfect, and as it should be.
One thing I loved so much, was making love to her. I've never been very verbose, and never was good at expressing myself, so that was the one time I could show her how much she meant to me. It was true love, completely refined, and pure love.
I'm not exactly asexual...At all, so for an extremely sexual person such as myself, that was the most I could give her– my body.

But then things started downhill. It was not the same. It was painful every day, and I really don't want to get into details, because it hurts me so much, just to think of it. So I will move on to the end.

Emma left me.

She left me because she told me she was asexual, and had been for a very long time. She didn't want to admit it at first, because she liked me as a person, and didn't want to disappoint me. She dated me because her parents thought she was a lesbian, and she wanted that to stop.
She opened up to me. And my blissful marriage had not been the same for her.
I found out she hated making love to me. She didn't want our kids, but liked them after they came. Still...
Everything I had believed mutual, was one sided. My deepest expression of caring for her was deemed "disgusting" by her. She didn't say those exact words, but she made it evident.
One thing, was Emma was such an intelligent woman. She was great when it came to people– a real people person. She could make you believe anything.

Emma left me, because she was tired of living a lie. She didn't want our life, because it wasn't the life she wanted. She waited until I had become so in love with her, I felt I would simply cease to exist without my wife– my one true love.
And she got full custody of Peter and Sam.
___


Clearly, I did not cease to exist without my wife.

Yet… I still feel I would cease to exist without my true love.
I realise now– that true love was not Emma. No mere woman– nor any human– can bring one love so powerful it can be a reason for existence. No human can bring "true love".

In suffering, people come to their senses. I know I did.
Stripped of any superficial happiness– I was left desperate. Funny I would call my wife and children superficial, but it comes down to that.
I love Emerson's Self Reliance. So eloquently put, so emotionally engendering. Comforting and convincing.

And yet, the comforts I feel from it are, in fact, superficial. They leave me dissatisfied and compromising. I cannot just trust myself.
I was given a conscience. I was given a will. And I was given a mind. But they were not enough. They stumble along the lit path– often deviating from it.
My being told me Emma was all to me; I would never be content without her; I needed no sources outside myself; it told me the tragedy I experienced was unfair; I was a good man. Never immoral.

And yet many a night I got drunk during my days spent alone.
After hard, rational struggles, I came to realise my self was often– and had been– wrong.

Did my self not prove unreliable?

The emotions I experience from Self Reliance leave me saddened– Emerson was a wise man, with the wrong information.
You can be a genius, and miss some points. Or even think backwards.

If only Emerson had known a version entitled God Reliance.

When you remove obstructions from your mind– such as tendencies towards a desire for absolute self reliance– you can come to realise that we need more.
To open, humbled eyes, the order of the universe parades a creator. Furthermore, the modest mind is able to see that humans cannot survive alone.
And, this conscience, this self-drive, that Emerson believed as the end all, is in fact a pointer to something enormous.
Our God.

Down the mountain face was the cold, silent sea, ebbing and flowing so beautifully.

Take my hand, and we’ll jump into the sea,
We’ll dive deep, where the light is dim.
Don’t breathe in, just look at me,
Holding each other in the cold, silent sea.




And then I will wrap my necktie around your throat as we dance under the surface, hook you to a dolphin, and watch you disappear into the depths to a watery demise.

Canon 7d

I got it. It's beautiful. I will have to post pictures soon.

Eric has feelings. DAMNIT.

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Why do I always fuck up conversation?

Here is an actual dialogue from my life:

*setting is with a lot of people, at a dance*

"Hey, why don't you like dancing?"
"I dance weird."
That's the best kind!"
"No... It's one of those things best done in the privacy of one's own home."
"Um..."

*awkward silence*


I always unintentionally make things seem sexual, or like I'm coming onto someone.
That or I completely act uninterested, or say something that sounds like an insult.
Or it's just bloody weird sounding.

And the worst thing? I'm not trying to be funny. It always comes out sounding serious and awkward.

I'm sure that's why my marriage failed.

How to alienate and piss off an old friend you don't want anymore.

We've all had friends we no longer care about. Everyone gets bored of people. Some people you get bored of because they are really annoying, or have hurt you.
In this post, I teach you how to get rid of these "friends" in a passive aggressive way.

Basically, the main objective is to get the person to leave you alone. Many people wish to do this is a way so as to least hurt the person they want gone. However we'll want to do this with as much hurt inflicted to the recipient as possible.
This method is most effective with people who have been considered very close to you.

Here, I have provided the steps as a useful list to be referred to;
_____________________________

Be self-absorbed, one-sided. 
Friends talk to each other, and take interest in each other, in relatively equal parts. Dysfunctional friendships are not reciprocal.
When talking to your "friend", always talk about yourself, and what you are interested in. When they ask you "what's up?", answer. And don't ask it back. This will really bug a person, as they want to feel interesting. It's especially good for "friends" who commonly ask this question because they're actually only interested in telling you about themselves when you ask it back.
Now, this stuff is very annoying, and will make people irritated. We want to prolong the distress, so the key is being intensely interested once in a while.
Doing so will make them believe you are a good friend, with some flaws. It will keep them around longer, and leave them dissatisfied with you longer.
So, much less then half the time, be sure to be engaged with them, and show interest, with follow-up questions, about whatever they are talking about. Bringing up the subject of them without prompting is golden.
Only very occasionally.

Do not be rude.
Being rude is detrimental to the plan. It makes the person hate you, and as a result– leave too soon.
Any sort of overt unpleasantry, will work against you. In the ways stated above, and also in the sense that your "friend" will be able to easily describe why you are unsatisfactory to anyone. This makes you look bad to other people, as well. You want it to be difficult to put on paper, but present nonetheless.
Remember: You don't want the person to hate you. You want them to resent you.

Be a cool person without them.
You like all your other friends, right? Or maybe you have new ones. You are a cool person. You don't want your "friend", because they are unsuitable to you anymore.
Let them know this. Frequently have statuses on Facebook that are directed towards other people. Make yourself seem like you're having a ton of fun, and your "friend" is not a part of it. Or maybe, during a conversation with your unwanted pal, you may bring up something you're doing or going to do, and then don't really go into detail about it. Don't invite them, either. Leave them wondering.
You'll seem like a fun person to be around, and they will be hurt, and feel like they are missing out. They used to be your best friend– So why aren't they included? They will question themselves.

Be difficult to reach. Be unreliable.
Rarely answer calls from them. Don't always respond to what they say on MSN, or networking sites.
Make them feel unimportant. Remember, Do answer occasionally, and be engaging.
When you don't, offer a simple, vague excuse, such as "I was busy."

Offer to be there for them in times of need. Don't be there. When they tell you their relative died, say they can call you anytime.
When they call you, don't answer.
Tell them you'll help them with something, or make promises you don't intend to keep.
When they have a presentation to do, help them with it. But do a half-ass job. Better yet, "forget" to have done it, leaving them unprepared.
Remember to use the vague excuses, and an insufficient "sorry" does wonders.

Bond (sometimes).
Once in a blue moon, bond with them. Invite them out, and have a great night. Be empathetic, be caring, be funny, reminisce about all the good memories you guys have together.
At the end, mention that you guys absolutely must do this again.
When the subject of planning another fun get-together comes up, remember: vagueness and unreliability. It shouldn't follow through.
Say next weekend is perfect, then a day before, when they ask about it, say you can't show up because you found out you had other plans for then. They don't need to know what those plans are(or, maybe they should have a faint idea, if it's something like a party).

Don't share their passion.
Susan calls you up, and tells you she met an amazing guy the other night. She thinks he has a lot of potential, and she's really excited about him. She finishes and waits eagerly for your input, which is, quite anticlimactically: "That's great."
She feels a bit bummed because you clearly don't understand how great this is.
You did well.
You may even try and "relate" to her, by talking about a guy you met, a couple days ago. One-upping her and belittling her story, is the aim. You'll want her to feel very unsure as to whether or not what your doing is intentional.
In all these matters, you want her to feel deep down in some small part that you're being cruel, but have no evidence.
But repair this, after a bit, by bringing up her subject for a little bit. Leave her still a bit bummed, but believing that it was a mistake.

Repetition of this type of behaviour is the key. Bring her down slowly.

Always say you're sorry.
This is vital.
You are this person's real friend. They are not yours. They may confront you about being hurt. They will open up, and tell you what is wrong.
Always say you're sorry– especially when you aren't. Tell them you're sorry, and you will change.

Don't change.

A useless apology is one of the best weapons in the long run. You give them temporary hope, which is always wrong.
Let them leave your confrontation feeling good.
Then let them feel like it was all in vain a week later.



So remember, kids...
Be erratic. Let the bad outweigh the good. Let there be a lot of negative aspects that are so mellow they go by unnoticed.
Then let the rare good be really great. Leave your "friend" with faith that it's a sincere friendship going through tough times.

Following this advice will guarantee dehumanization of yourself. Not recommended for those with souls.

I was sitting here trying to think of something to say, something from my mind, something witty, that would please "the crowds".
Then it occurred to me: What fucking crowds?
Blogs are diaries for hopeful attention whores. Bloggers would like to believe that people are looking at their thoughts– absorbing them into themselves, as if they were meaningful substance.
Sorry, special kid. you're not special. In fact, the only special thing about you is your less-than-perfect physical attributes. 
I am a special man. No one reads my blog. I am all the hits. I actually waste time coming up with clever things to say (that aren't clever) and write them down for everyone to see.
Want to know a secret? I'm smart.
Damn right. See, I'm not exactly who I seem, here. That's so nonexistant people can't look at my blog, and say "Oh, what a douche bag. I can't believe he thinks that's deep." Because it is not deep. None of the shit on this blog is deep. And I probably don't even think it ever again.

Fuck you, I don't care. I was reading self-reliance, because I missed it. I love this quote:

With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood. 

I bet I raped it's meaning by placing it sorely out of context.

Emphasis is an important part of the written English language. Careful attention should be payed to ensure that it be accurately portrayed.

We were dropped off in this huge place, like a cold factory. People in white lab coats worked upon and cleaned machinery, bright shiny steel machinery that was white. The ceilings were high, high up. Lit by white fixtures, i looked at the huge white-paned windows, so tall and wide that they were like a cinema screen. they were that foggy kind of glass, so you couldn't see through them, and the walls were white. Something was perverse about this place. Something was wrong about the brown stains the white clad men wiped off of the blades.
Then people started gasping and screaming, as we looked around. I tried to stifle my panic, but couldn't. As we walked through the place, we saw as the blood on the ground came into view, we saw the giant refrigerators open and filled with meat as the workers put in more. I took a closer look at the giant, clinical implements, and realized they were saws. Saws, cutting knives, grinders, needles, injectors, positioned above huge slats with straps for holding creatures in...What was this place? It was like a giant, sickly slaughter house, but far more sinister. It was like something out of an alien horror flick. but it was real. I started to cry, many people did.
As we walked through, we all started as we suddenly heard an ear-splitting scream. What I saw would traumatize me for life.
A white-clad man and woman were standing around a struggling man strapped down on one of the slats, shouting and howling. The woman controlled a giant saw with a little joystick. It hummed hungrily as it was brought down slowly towards the man's body, he went silent and turned pale with fear, frozen.
As it hit his flesh, he screamed bloody murder.
I remembered all those times I had described screams as "bloody murder". How the boy had screamed "bloody murder" when he broke his nose at school, how the lady in that TV show screamed "bloody murder" when she found a spider in her salad...But this was bloody murder. His blood went spattering over the white walls, the white coats, as he screamed his life out. The people doing the deed were unfased as his organs spilled onto the floor. People around me fainted and puked. We were then moved along by our silent captors with guns. The fainted ones were dragged away in a different direction...

I concur.

I give up posting every day. I find it draining and insipid.

I'm supposed to make a post every day, but have nothing to say right now.
I'm making pea and ham soup. Fuck you!

Fatter creatures  children these days are more likely to hit puberty... As early as Seven.
Good grief.
According to this article, 10 percent of white females, and 23 percent of black females had started developing tits already... At the wee green (rather ripe now) age of seven!
And the numbers appear to nearly double, as they hit one year later, at age 8.

http://health.yahoo.net/news/s/nm/us_puberty_earlier

What a hideous happenstance. Does this mean 1 in 5 of those beasts running around has boobs already?

It appears the hormones in our foods these days, coupled with higher stress levels have urged the human beast to grow ever faster. I'm sure he's caught on to me, and now evolution spurs them ever faster to keep up, before they are discovered– before my word gets them known.

A beautiful girl I met in the street.

I met this gal whilst meandering through the streets of Istanbul on vacation. She was a fellow tourist. One thing led to another, and we found ourselves upon the quaintest of dates.
I love this girl, so far. I believe we share similar views on children.

Canon 7D

I want this fucking camera.


Canon 7D Underwater Test Video - Berkley White from Berkley White on Vimeo.

Infants are so unsightly.

I cannot believe I could have ever been so witless enough to have partaken in the spawning of a pair.
Dribbling, sapping, odourous, and selfish, they bring about me a feeling of immense displeasure.

The humane fetus is essentially a parasitic creature, embedded deeply in the female anatomy, where it feasts off of her blood and oxygen; offering her nothing in return, but polluted excrement in her vital fluids.
It denies her the right to fun– She mustn't drink, nor smoke, nor eat sushi, lest it damage her "precious" cargo.

And when at last, expelled from her nether regions with great anguish and gore, the fetus–now called an "infant"–is free from its juicy prison.
Howling with indignant rage, the small parcel of a beast writhes and demands, as it is cleansed of its filth and wax.
The stem–or cord–must be cut, and tied, to prevent the monster's innards from spilling out, also as prevention of postnatal spore growth.

It is then; this vomitous, vile, loathsome, animal truly becomes what it is
A mother is subjected to years of servitude towards the abhorrent freeloader.
She has grown wobbly. Her once-pert skin hanging loosely. Yet she cannot escape, as she is pumped with "hormones" the parasite has flled her frame with, ensuring she shall never discard of it.

And thus, the story of this common, condoned hell-trip is continued...

Please, use contraception.