Tag Archives: Self-help

Here’s a catchy title with the word “blood” in it. Intrigued? What’s it about? Hmm. Find out?

Went to Walmart so that I could get an outdoor mat to have one for each door. A blood van was there. It wasn’t the American Red Cross: it was The Blood Connection. They asked if I’d give some blood, and I said I would.

I was pretty anxious. I’m used to blood and needles from going to the doctor as a kid. But I was afraid they’d find something wrong with me (I’ll get into this later). I tried to calm my anxiety, however, because I thought that might skew the results somehow. She said my blood pressure was a little high, but that’s no surprise. Smart people who think about the world get stressed. I just dismissed it. I have been working on managing my stress, however, because it has finally started to become too much for me. Fascinating how the outdoors relieve stress. I think it has something to do with the fact that it is out of our control. The trees grow, and produce air, outside of our control. That’s comforting.

She said something, maybe hemoglobin, was 17, and it should be between 13 and 20. Everything seemed good.

Answered some questions beforehand. Read about AIDS, and needles, and shit. Scary stuff. Finally went to the chair to donate. “Are their needles clean?” I was thinking. Whatever. If I catch something, I catch something. Just relax. The van probably isn’t outside of Walmart to give people diseases. They’re probably trying to do good for people who need blood. People need blood. It does them good. People need it, for reasons I don’t care to fully understand. You can have it.

It took a little while. Some sugar beforehand, some sugar after. Waited in the van for a little bit, then walked out. Thought about going full “Cody mode”, but that wasn’t going to work. Walked slowly. Stay calm. Everything was fine. Got my mat, and left.

I thought about Dad. Dad always gave blood. It feels good to give blood. I hope somebody can use it. I figure that as long as I’m healthy enough to give blood, that means I’m doing good. Dad reached a point where they asked him not to donate anymore. I guess as long as I’m still healthy enough to give blood, I’m doing good.

There are two kinds of people in this world: people who never see a problem until it is too late, and those that constantly see problems when there are none there. I watched a video yesterday that Jordan Peterson was in (I don’t care for finding the exact timestamp. Sorry), and he confirmed something that I’ve always believed. My history regarding how I view health is pretty complicated. Religion did some pretty shitty things with how I view health, but I won’t get into all of that here. Suffice it to say that I’ve always felt guilty for being healthy, or smart. I’ve had to retrain myself philosophically to think about health differently. If I pity those who are unhealthy, what does that mean? That means I want them to be healthy. So why shouldn’t I be happy for myself, or anyone else who is healthy? Why should I feel guilty for having what I want everyone to have? The reasons for guilt are depressing. Basically, religion is, all too often, synonymous with guilt. I have deep problems with that.

I will do my best to not be someone who doesn’t accept a problem until it is too late. Prevention, prevention, prevention. Shit happens. But I don’t want to wait until it is too late. I don’t want to be someone who trains for marathons, but I’m going to think about my health. If that adds extra stress to me, then so be it. “Cody, too much stress is unhealthy-” Please shut the fuck up.

The two kinds of people in this world, that I mentioned above, are affected by everything. People who never see a problem until it is too late help create Nazi Germany. I won’t be one of those people. I’d rather be a person who sees every tiny encroachment of liberty as a step towards Nazi Germany. Sure, I’ll have to deal with people calling me “nasty names”. But it’s worth it. Fuck you, and fuck Nazi Germany. Fuck not taking care of yourself. Fuck the State. And fuck the idiots.

As I was going through the mats, I thought of something. I’ve always had a problem with speaking well. People in the South don’t like good talkers. Their inferiority complexes make them uncomfortable. This, of course, affects everyone from time to time: not just “Southerners”. I single out “the South” because I have a lot of problems with the culture I grew up in. But I realized, as I was picking up a mat, just how important words are. It’s important to speak well. You can’t make arguments without language. Language is very powerful. It is important. It is a tool. A tool that can be improved. It is sad when people manipulate with their language. But I’ve had enough of that for one lifetime. I “experimented” with lying when I first got a computer: getting up the courage to “talk” (lol) to women. Telling them what they wanted to hear. And hating every fucking second of it. I thought about that, and thought about “the news” from when I was growing up. There was always some story where someone was involved in a scandal, and they always said they were innocent. Constantly. Somebody was always lying. I thought “Why are these people making the world worse?” And that furthered my hatred for lying. I wanted to stop lying. Honesty was therapeutic. And that’s where I am today.

Of course, with honesty comes responsibility. You can honestly do some horrible things by accident. Honesty doesn’t mean you can escape the consequences. That’s scary to me. I try to think about making sure I don’t put myself in positions where I could accidentally do something reprehensible. The thought of going to jail is frightening. The thought of being innocent and going to jail is even more frightening. But a clear conscience goes a long, LONG way. That’s one reason that I hate religious conservatism so fucking much.

I realized that speaking out means other people will speak out as well. I don’t like people. I humorously thought today, while sitting in the parking lot, that I’m part of the “autism spectrum”. I honestly hate people. To my fucking core. But I don’t want them imprisoned. I don’t want them sick. I want them to have what I have. And I want to leave them alone because I want to be left alone.

I briefly thought about someone saying “You talk fine! Why are you so worried about it?” What’s wrong with desiring to improve? Why are you so worried about my desire to improve?

I hate talking because I am bad at it. I don’t like being around angry people. I don’t like arguments. I’ve often found myself in a position retracting from a debate where the other person was actually enjoying it. A misread communicatory signal. Must be that spectrum in me. But I realized that a large reason why I don’t like talking to people is that I’m not a good arguer. I’m not good enough with language. There’s SO much room for improvement. I guess a lot of people don’t care that much. That’s why they call you “smarty-pants”, or whatever. But I need language. I need this. I don’t fully understand why. But I need it. And I need to improve upon it. It’s simply a tool. It cleanses my spirit, and helps me navigate socially. It will still be my goal to avoid socializing as much as possible, but when I can’t, I need to be able to speak for myself.

It’s all a process. All improvement.

That’s all it is.

Thanks for reading.


A difficult truth.

External sources will never maintain your self-esteem as long as you need.

But to say that “It must come from within”, no matter how true, is to undermine its difficulty…

No One Knows What Anyone is Talking About

One thing that I have learned is that no one, including myself, knows what we are talking about. Throughout my life, I have heard that everyone should maintain a positive attitude about everything. Self-help books, other forms of media, and in fact society at large will tell us that there is no need for pessimism, and that if we all just had a good attitude, we could make the world a better place.

But I have heard of a neuroscientist that says that we are too optimistic: for example, smokers underestimate their likelihood of getting cancer, or people that ride motorcycles underestimate the likelihood that they will be killed.

This neuroscientist (whom Morgan Freemen agrees with, for what that’s worth), says that we are too optimistic, and don’t understand reality. This is, what I have discovered to be, one of the fundamental problems of human nature. Although I believe that God reveals truths to us, it can be almost impossible for us to ascertain what any particular truth is at any particular moment. This is what I believe the function is of the human belief function.

Humans are hard-wired to want to know the truth. This is how we were created. “Does he really love me?” “Will this actually help me lose weight?” “Can we really cure this disease?” It is within our DNA to want to understand the truth.

And this makes things difficult.

What is truth?

And how do we determine what is truth and what isn’t?

This is a question that has been swimming around in my head for probably a couple of years now.

One theory that I have skated around with is the belief that everything, or at least most things, are subjective. Let me be clear: I recognize that there is an objective reality.

There really is grass on the ground (at least most theoretical physicists believe this to be true) but this apparent objectivity leads to a whole new realm of subjectivity, which I believe to be more important.

What does it mean that this tree is here?

Does it mean nothing?

Does it represent that nature is beautiful?

Does it represent that man is inherently cruel for ever chopping down any tree?

What does it mean that this tree is here?

I know that I have already lost most of my readers here, because they are not philosophers such as myself.

I know for a fact (a subjective fact) that most readers will say “It means nothing. It’s just a tree.”

But do trees mean nothing?

Does this mean that we are nothing because we breathe the oxygen that comes from this nothing?

Does this mean that the birds that live in this tree live in nothing, therefore, nothing is required for their sustenance, and they are, therefore, nothing?

If a tree is nothing, then is the fruit that it bears nothing?

The glucose that it provides us is nothing, therefore the energy that we exert is actually nothing?

Doesn’t nothing inevitably lead to nothing?

Hopefully, you see why ask of the question “What is this tree?”

I realize that most will dismiss me as a heady crackpot, so I will ask more sinister questions to appeal to the inevitable philosopher that will arise amid tragedy.

Why did 9/11 happen?

Surely, you would not want me to say “It’s just 9/11: it means nothing” in the same response to which some, and probably most, would respond to the lowly tree.

Surely you would ask “Why?” when a loved one is killed, and would ask “What does it mean?”, and “Nothing” would hardly be an answer that you would believe.

If you were asked “Why are we here?” perhaps “For no reason at all” would be a sufficient answer.

But perhaps not.

So I go back to my question: what does the tree in my yard mean?

Does it mean oxygen?

A place for kids to play?

Surely it means something.

But what?

Is the answer purely objective? Only to produce oxygen?

Why do my kids like to climb in it?

Why do I find beauty when its leaves die?

And this leads me back to my ultimate point: none of us really know what we were talking about.

What does it mean if someone believes a tree to be nothing? One may argue that it just means that he is wrong, which I would agree with. But what would it mean if I found a sunset beautiful? What would it mean if someone else responded differently to the sunset than I did? What do these two events occurring within the same spacetime fabric mean? I believe that subjectivity will provide the answer.

Sure, I do not dismiss objectivity. But can you correctly define that objectivity? And if so, do you believe that it has any meaning or no? Do you want it to have some meaning? The only philosophical answer that I have formulated to this, as well as other philosophical questions, is that none of us really know what we are talking about, but subjectivity will provide most of the answers that we are looking for, and it is of my subjective belief that our collective subjectivities do not, in fact, mean nothing.

So you may say the tree has no meaning while I argue otherwise, but I do not think that either of us know what we are talking about if we are talking about knowledge on some sort of objective level, which is usually the case.

It is of my subjective belief that some things can be understood in terms of an objective level, but I do not think that any of us really understand anything at all. Perhaps we do, but in the realm of the infinite that we don’t know, I don’t think that what we do know means nothing, but I don’t know what it truly means.

August 15, 2013.

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