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About jjer94

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  1. Human and full. Well, howdy, partners. It's been a long-ass rodeo since my last visit to this forum. I thought I'd give an update, to those who are curious. Life has unfolded in an effortless way the past several months, and all I've had to do, paradoxically, is put in some effort. But it's not really a paradox as much as it is a language game. The effortlessness comes from noticing the opportunities that the Universe throws my way. The effort comes from choosing the most expansive, integrated options as much as possible. The word "integration" has been a theme of the past couple years for me. I've become well-acquainted with parts work, which rests upon the idea that the psyche is not just one singular entity but rather a collection of many different parts, all of which have different needs and desires. The task is to make sure all of those needs and desires are heard and accounted for in a way that doesn't undermine any of the parts. I've also been deepening my breathwork practice. I'm currently on day 29 of a 30-day breathwork challenge as a part of a certification. Once I'm certified, I'll be able to work one-on-one with clients. I've already facilitated one session and find intense meaning from holding space for someone who has releases and revelations. My plan is to have breathwork facilitation as another income stream alongside working at the juice bar and playing music. Which, by the way, is going swimmingly. My voice has improved a lot over the past couple of years in conjunction with all of the self-love and healing work I've been doing. Again, I've learned that the less I "try" to hit notes and the more I focus on the fullness of my breath and the fullness of the moment, the more my singing voice sounds the way I want it. I'm still in the process of searching for a new living space, but I found a place that shows some promise. I've been making all of these new friends, a few of them homesteaders, surprisingly. Given what's been happening in the world, I've acquired a newfound interest in self-reliance, and the idea of planting some veggies this spring feels more and more appealing to me. After plenty of time and space to work through relational wounds with my therapist, I'm on talking terms with my ex again. I feel so genuinely happy that she found someone else that seems to be a better fit for her. I really like the guy. Of course, there's tons of other feelings that came along with that, but I'm glad that things are starting to mend between us. Things have honestly been the best they've ever been in my life, from community to dating to family to work to purpose to self-love. I have so few things to complain about these days. My life feels so human and full. I guess that's partly why I haven't felt the urge to come back on here. My worldview has also diverged quite a bit from Leo's. I haven't watched any of his recent videos for the past several months, nor have I felt the desire to do so. I've also become more and more of a private person, wanting to separate my personal life from the online sphere. I'll also be honest...part of the reason I'm up at one in the morning writing this right now is that I have a ball of anxiety in my solar plexus, and the idea that other people could be reading this feels soothing to me, LOL. I'm anxious because I put my neck out for someone I'm dating by sending a long heartfelt text, and she didn't respond at all tonight when she usually responds. When I use my felt-sense and tune into the ball of anxiety, what comes up is the fear that I'm too much. I have so much love to give, I sometimes wonder if it scares people away. As a feminine-leaning man, I feel very deeply, and I have a lot of nurturing energy. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm going overboard with her. I've only dated her for a couple months, so we don't have a label yet. But damn. I really like this one. The attraction and chemistry are there, and there's also a ton of compatibility. I have a shout-from-the-rooftops kind of feeling about it, and maybe she senses that on a subtle level, and it's overwhelming her. Or maybe my perception is totally off. Maybe she just didn't want to respond, or something came up. At this stage, who knows? What also comes up is a recognition that this is my stuff. I didn't ask for a response. All of this emotional charge is mine, and I'm still not quite at the stage in dating yet where I can bring up little things like this. All of this feeling of too-muchness or not-enoughness is just an invitation for me to redirect that energy into nurturing myself and my already full life without her. To not text her back until she texts me back, and focus instead on my music and my other things. Dating is so much easier now that I feel a strong sense of purpose with what I do and have lots of friends that I can go to when I'm feeling under-resourced. Anyway, that's all she wrote! If you're wondering where I am or what I'm doing these days, you can find my most recent stuff on instagram and my website. I don't plan to be consistent on this forum anymore. To the lurkers and ones I connected with here, I send you my love and good tidings for the journey ahead! <3
  2. shitty and happy. I've had such a peculiar month. On the one hand, I've experienced brand-new hurts and dove into my deepest wounds; I've been neurotic and confused; by most metrics on the outside I have "backslid"; my expectations around fame and fortune have shattered. Yet at the same time, I've felt so deeply happy that I'm not sure what to do with it. It's a happiness in knowing that even when I'm going through all of this, I know I'm not a bad person. I don't need to beat myself up for any of it because I am enough as I am. And in the safety of being enough, I've noticed that things unfold at a much healthier pace for me. I had a phone call with the girl I dated in Colorado, the one who was living with her ex, who said she was sure that she was done with him and moving on. She's back with him. I respectfully ended my friendship with her. My ex has yet to respond to my text. She completely ghosted me and posted some passive-aggressive poetry about leaving me "where I belong" and how she's not ready to remember the ways I was good to her. I blocked her on all social media, but an event linked to her new music page that she started on September 29 which now has 100+ more likes than my page...a page that I've had for seven years. On top of that, she covered a song by a dude I hung out with once while I was starting my musical journey who is popular in my state. In the description, she was basically licking his feet by writing, "he's the best." At one of her live performances (which I probably shouldn't have attended, but I wanted to support her as a musician), she played that same song and said, "he's going to be famous someday." I just checked Facebook tonight and found that another young musician chick I jammed with back in 2014 (and almost made a move on; turns out she's queer ) was on TV and is off to LA to do music. I have this sense that she's really going to be famous someday. I would have thought I'd be more triggered. Other people "surpassing" me in certain ways is my big wound that rests on the feeling of not being seen or valued. With all of the stuff with my ex, I felt a primal rage, no doubt. I tantrumed on the bed and wrote some nasty things in my journal that I should probably delete. She's shown a side of herself that appears to have genuinely malicious intent, and it feels like shock and betrayal to my system. But the emotional charge to all of this is manageable. Of course, there's an immature part of me that can't help but think, I have busted my fucking ass off to get where I'm at now. I've dodged my own death, literally, around half a dozen times. I've written songs that speak from the core of my being. I am a kind person. I have unique gifts and perspectives to offer. I know my zone of genius is songwriting. And this is how you reward me, Universe? When will I be recognized? Then I remember: If it benefitted my growth, I would have it by now. If I had it prematurely, I wouldn't be able to receive it. All of this has been a gift for me in the art of self-love. Real self-love. The kind where there's literally nothing but me, a teddy bear, and Spotify. Where I sit with the ideas that I may never be famous; other people may surpass me in popularity; everyone I know could abandon me; someone I love the most could betray me on a profound level; I may never resolve my neuroses; I may never change. Can I dare to love myself as I am, even if all of those things come true? That's what I've been prioritizing, and it's transformed my perspective. As a result, I've taken manageable steps to meet my needs; I've stumbled into part-time work that I totally love; I've made so many new friends that I'm wondering if I'm an ambivert; I've been supporting myself where I'm at rather than where I expect myself to be; I've been creating more from a place of authenticity rather than a place to impress; and I am so much happier. All of this happiness, blossoming out of a steaming pile of shit. So peculiar.
  3. a homogenized mixture. My time back in the Northwoods has been a homogenized mixture of deep, grounded, profound joy, fiery rage, and heart-shattering grief. When I pulled into my hometown while blasting Bon Iver's self-titled album through the stereo, I wept so hard. What a relief it's been to be in a geographical location where I truly feel safe and at ease. I think there were maybe one or two ten-minute stints total where I felt truly safe and in my body in Colorado. But the moment I'm back in the Northwoods, my body seems to recognize a deep sense of safety, and I'm able to be more in rest and digest. Within days, my skin has turned from pepperoni pizza-face to smooth and spotty. I think many factors contributed to my acne in Colorado, both physical and emotional — worse diet; poor digestion due to inability to relax; feeling like I don't belong; and repressed rage from the trauma that I carried. With contrast palpably in my grasp, I feel like there's no place I'd rather be than here in the Great Northwoods. The peace and quiet, natural settings, familial support, down-to-earth people, and small-town vibes are qualities that I've come to value highly. I feel so grateful to be back here. I also cried upwards of five times yesterday. I texted my ex a couple of days ago to let her know that I'm back in the Northwoods. I texted with a tone of levity because I didn't know how else to communicate. In retrospect, it came across as kind of pompous and inconsiderate, and I wish I would have been more frank. Well, it doesn't really matter, because she never responded. She completely ghosted me. The following day, I stupidly checked her Facebook and read a post where she related removing tooth decay at the dentist with removing toxic people and things from her life (I blocked her shortly thereafter to spare my sanity). I took it to mean that I am the equivalent of tooth decay. So the person I called right away after the shooting in March, who responded with so much love and affection, who is the most attached I've felt to any one person in my life, whom I love deeply regardless of anything...ignored my text and deems me as toxic as rotting calcium. I couldn't handle myself. I drove to a secluded spot and went totally apeshit, screaming and flailing and sobbing and feeling like the ground beneath me disappeared like some trapdoor. I had to reach out for help to my therapist afterwards because I felt totally unhinged, like some screws in my brain had come loose. He helped to ground me. He suspects that these primal reactions I'm having are due to deep developmental trauma, and a mixture of self-soothing and community support will be sufficient. He also shared his own seventeen-year struggle, and how he had to humble himself with menial, back-breaking labor for some time just to come into himself. I cried once again when I heard his story, because I realize that what I've been missing in my journey is humility. Less focus on the end goal, more on smelling the roses and being there for myself through thick and thin. To slow down. To congratulate myself for the small wins and dance my way through the grindy jobs and the times where I am a complete nobody (like now). Like that Matt Kahn quote in the first post. That night, I watched the movie A Taxi Driver with my parents and cried once again. It's a movie based on the true events of a reporter filming the 1980 riots in South Korea in protest of martial law. Seeing the graphic images of bloodied college students in the hospital struck something deep in me. What I took away from it is that my rights are really privileges, tenuous at best — and what matters most are the connections we have. The tragedies of that movie resonated with my current tragedies, and I cried some more after the viewing. This morning, I checked my ex's website and found a new poem about how she is careful to "leave me where I belong," and how our love was like gasoline. Surprisingly, I only cried twice today, with no mental breakdowns. I picked up my guitar, learned a new song, and bought new music-making software. I also had a job interview with two wonderful folks at a juice bar that went fairly well. So it's been such a strange combination of happenings today. Things are moving pretty quickly. I feel A TON more stable now than I did in Colorado, even with total stinginess from my ex. From here, I suspect things will continue to be a homogenized mixture of joy and struggle.
  4. The conductor's burden. Once upon a platform, I boarded a train That required no ticket — A free ride that I could take for granted. I used two seats (One for my dirty feet) Rolled up my sleeves And made use Of the amenities That its conductor so generously offered — Windows to another world; Warm air to soothe My frayed nerves and weary soul; And a place to rest my body Warts and all As I wondered Where in the hell I wanted to go. The what-if’s Of exotic destinations consumed me As I consumed that train And its rickety rails Faltered at every junction. Even so, the conductor Did not mind my ambivalence. She pleaded that I stay Until the train Turned to dust and scrap metal On that northern countryside. I quickly hopped off the train at the next stop In an escapist act of desperation As the conductor clung to my coattails In an escapist act of desperation Until her Every Last Finger Clung to the air. I wandered the western countryside With a sigh of relief, Looking for thingless things And mindless mind-stuffs That escaped my grasp Like watery mirages On a desert road. I tried my hand At being a conductor myself, Providing ticketless passage for folks Who took two seats (One for their dirty feet) And made use Of the amenities That I so generously offered — Windows to another world; Warm air to soothe Their frayed nerves and weary souls; And a place to rest their bodies Warts and all As they wondered Where in the hell They wanted to go. One by one They made a mess And hopped off my train Shortly after boarding As I clung to their coattails In an escapist act of desperation Until my Every Last Finger Clung to the air. Left with nothing But thoughts of Retreating to Antarctica I finally understood The conductor's burden — A tenuous offering to let someone board with no ticket and in return receive no courtesy no reciprocity and no guarantee that you will see them ever again.
  5. A journey to where? Chapter 6. I am currently writing this in a bedroom right next to a busy highway. The engines vary — some are whispy and others assault the ears like a firecracker. There's no sense of predictability in it... just like my life right now. I am utterly shattered. After five months of attempting to find my place in Boulder, CO, I have ended my journey here with heartache, betrayal, failure, trauma, and jadedness. In three days, I am moving back to Wisconsin. Back with my parents. Back to square fucking one. The past month, I've been regularly suicidal. The past two weeks, it was so serious that I had to ask for help. I opened up to my parents for the first time about it. They received me the best they could...and their best was more than sufficient. They didn't judge me; they just want to support me. Same with my brother. That's been the most healing part of the past year — it feels like something shifted in my family, and now they're much more empathetic and curious about my emotional states. I can't begin to describe just how horrible these past several months have been. Some things I may not share for confidentiality's sake, and other things may take multiple posts to share. In the meantime, I wrote a blog post that summarizes a lot of what happened. While this may not be the case, I feel as if I've backslided to my 2017 self. I'm in the same cycle of retreating back to my parents' house, except this time at least I haven't nearly fasted myself to death — I've only nearly thought myself to death. So my next question is — where? I feel like I've tried everything. Nothing has been sustainable. It feels hopeless to live in this world, in this system. It feels like I could die and the memory of me would fizzle out of people's heads like dust in a desert. I feel useless, unwanted, and totally fragmented. (Note: this is not a cry for help. I have support systems.) This next leg of my journey will involve processing the trauma of these past five months; reconnecting with myself; integrating the abysmal failure that was this time in Colorado; getting crystal clear about what I need every single day; returning to the psycho-emotional state I was in before leaving Wisconsin; and prayer. Lots of prayer. In this state, I can't make guarantees about anything; I can only take everything a day at a time.
  6. Yo! I wrote a little article on this topic that you can check out here. Writer's block is inherent to the creative process, but there are ways to work around it. Best of luck!
  7. a merry-go-round back to earth. Just as I re-live that rejection trauma over and over again, I re-live the recovery over and over again. I swear, nothing trumps the resilience of the human spirit. When a part of us is hurting so bad that it wants to die, and we give it some time and love, it will return to a baseline of sorts. That's what happened this afternoon and evening, at least. I told the other roommates about the incident yesterday, and they saw me and heard me. We talked about how we know he's not a bad person for being inconsiderate, but we need to talk to him about what it means to be psychologically safe in a community setting. Hopefully he can be receptive when three other people call him in. The three of us connected, just like in the beginning. Even the female, the one who asked me to not sign back onto the lease, the one I called the "abuser," validated my perspective, supported me, and opened up to me. I was utterly floored when I went into the kitchen and she started engaging with me, asking me questions about my life and sharing that she herself comes up with melodies in her head. Two months in, and she shares that! We were all connecting genuinely. Then, tonight, the other one invited me to go climbing. Invited me! Actually wants to hang out with me! The one who friendzoned me? Said the same thing. Said that I'm "smart, kind, considerate and talented," that we have the potential for a great connection, and she genuinely wants to connect. Now all I need to do is re-define the relationship and be okay with just being friends, which is actually slightly relieving because I saw my own subconscious patterns latching onto her in the older dysfunctional "rescuer" ways. I also didn't mention this because it's slightly overwhelming, but I may have four dates over the next 2-3 weeks. On top of that, I bought a freelance writer online course to begin my journey towards better side income. I launched a Patreon. I'm learning new songs for busking. It's all moving, albeit in an overwhelming way. In times like these, I really buy into parts theory — the idea that our psyches are multi-faceted. We all have different aspects that need different things and come out at different times. Some are more mature and protective than others, while others are shadowed and immature. I see it in myself, and I see it the most in my roommates. Some days, I look at one of them like the devil. The next day, he's an angel. They act really mean one day, then really kindly the next day. One day, she's the abuser, the next day she's a friend and an ally. It's so complex, the way we all interact with each other — how different parts come out at different times. And how we trigger each other because of that. I guess what I'm trying to say is — we are all devils, angels, villains, and victims at the same time. Nobody clicks perfectly with anyone else all the time. We all push each others' hot buttons. And we all do unexpectedly healing things for each other, too. We are all just human. And the more we own our humanness in all of its contradictory insanity, the more compassionate and forgiving we can be towards the humanness of others.
  8. a merry-go-round from hell. This was one of the most agonizing weekends of my life. It started with being friendzoned by a girl that magnetizes me. I forgot how horrible that feels. I had that with literally every single girl I had a crush on in high school and college. I should be paid to be a professional vagina evader at this point. So that was a powder keg to my nervous system, and I couldn't really sleep that night. The next day, I prepared to go busking, only to find that my car was broken into. Fortunately for me, I didn't hide any money in the glove box, because the glove box contents were strewn about the passenger's seat. I got in my car, and three minutes into driving, I braked a few feet away from a car crash that totally obliterated the front of this car that ran a red light. The dude came out of the car relatively unscathed, but his face was all bloody. I had to keep driving, because I was holding up a line of cars behind me. When I arrived at the main street, I set up my new busking equipment that I bought a few days ago, and for 3.5 hours of playing with a looper pedal, I made a third of what I normally make for less than three hours of playing without a looper pedal. Feeling discouraged, I dragged my way home like a bag of bones, exhausted yet completely wired with financial fear. I couldn't fall asleep till around midnight, and my body woke me up at two in the morning. I was in stasis for several hours. My brain felt (and feels) atrophied from the adrenaline. I stayed up for a total of twenty-two hours that day. I had a men's work group process for most of the day until dinnertime. I went with one of my roommates. It was very similar to the Sacred Sons group process I did at their retreat. Someone's in the middle of the circle, re-enacting an old wound to create an opposite experience, often using someone else to roleplay their mother or father. This time, I focused on my feeling that nobody really cares about me or wants to hang out with me or invite me to anything; that I'm insignificant, worthless, unseen, unheard, all of that. I used someone to roleplay my dad, and within minutes I was on the floor in a puddle of screams and tears. Maybe I'll make a separate post about that. But I mention the wound because a gallon of salt was about to be poured on it. After the group process, I felt the dignity to bring up an issue to my roommate about inclusivity. I didn't really feel acknowledged or included when his other friends were around. The rest of my roommates and a couple other people had the same complaint. But instead of considering that with five other mirrors saying the same thing maybe there's something he could own and flex to accommodate, he instead dumped it all back onto me. He said it's 100 percent my issue, and I should be more initiating. There's an element of truth to my issue with initiation, and I've been making a conscious effort to deal with it. But I also have invited him to things on several occasions, and he's turned them down every single time. Then he said that I give off the energy of "no one wants to hang out with me," and he doesn't want to hang out with that. Translation: I don't want to hang out with you. He said this a couple hours after I was screaming and writhing on the floor with the belief that nobody actually wants to hang out with me. Later in the evening when I was all alone in my car, I had a mental breakdown. I screamed, cried till I had no tears, kept crying, flailed like a fish, and said "fuck you" to the Universe more times than I can count. And then, out of desperation, I called my brother, and he was the most validating and supportive he's ever been. Thank heavens for him, and for my mom, who also was extremely supportive today. But I have nobody here, now. One roommate told me they don't want me to sign back on, another one flakes on me, and the other one doesn't want to hang out with me. This living situation has miserably collapsed — me along with it. Today, I've been crying more from the loss of connection. On top of that is the fact that I moved here only two months ago, the shooting, my financial stress, the dating shit, and the lack of community, direction, and quite frankly, hope. I am utterly crushed. Exhausted. Devastated. Reliving the trauma of friend groups ditching me, over and over and over again, like some sort of merry-go-round from hell. It's like I have a fucking post-it note on my forehead that says, "Ostracize me." On a logical level, I know that rejection means that it's just not meant to be and that incompatibility is a reality. I just feel so discouraged. Where are the people with whom I have genuine compatibility? I know I'm worthy of nourishing relationships with people who actually care. And I no longer want to waste my time with people who genuinely don't want to spend time with me.
  9. hardening artist. I wish I could say that these past two months have been glorious. That I've risen from the ashes of the shooting, made new friends, started new practices, found monetary success in my craft, and found the flow. There's been some of that, sure. A month ago, I went to Convergence 5 in person and had some mind-blowing healing out in the desert...only to return to the same issues back here in CO. I may write a separate post on that. I've been on a couple of dates, one of which was abysmal, the other of which was more ambiguous but enjoyable nonetheless. I have another one lined up for Sunday. I've made some acquaintances and have been fairly socially active. I even went busking last week and made $125 in less than three hours of playing on the main street. That was pretty cool. I've also been to a couple of open mics with the same sort of reception — I got some high compliments. But I still feel pretty miserable. For one, I was having issues with one of the roommates, the only female of the house. My other two roommates were having similar issues, and their friends even warned them about her. With all of the issues in the house, she is the common denominator. She's not a bad person, she has some capacity for self-reflection, and she has a lot of redeeming qualities; there's just a lot of weird dynamics that hurt. At one of the house meetings, one of the roommates said he wanted her to move out, the other one in a two-faced way defended her, while I also wanted her to move out. But she wouldn't budge. She asked me to move out at the end of the lease. She said that she can't connect with me in the way that she connects with the other two. I felt an equal sense of relief and anguish. Relief that I don't have to live with this person. Anguish that someone with qualities similar to my dad rejected me...and that the other two roommates are signing back onto the lease, even given all of the issues. It feels like betrayal. Like I spent all this time and effort to build a genuine connection with the other two roommates, only for them to side with the "abuser." And I BET the moment that I move out, they will flake, and I will not hear from them again. Just how that's been the case with pretty much every person I've hung out with out here. Just how it was in childhood, with literally every single friend group that I tried to join. Once a floater, always a floater? I know logically this is not necessarily the case, but it feels like nobody actually cares about me — like no one would actually reach out to me to ask how I'm doing. I almost fucking died two months ago, I've been trying so hard to make new friends, I'm financially drowning, I moved halfway across the country knowing one person who has since flaked on me — and the two roommates are just acting as if everything's hunky-dory. The female gave one of them the lease to sign, right in my face, as if to rub it in. So there's that. Then there's the issue with money. Everything here is so ridiculously expensive. Living as an artist feels near impossible. I have to wear a million different hats, and any sort of support costs too much money, and I spend half my day worrying about how I'm going to make my financial quota for the month. It's wearing on my body. I can't think straight. I can't create as effectively. I'm breaking out again. I'm having anxiety attacks and trouble sleeping. Not to mention that both Instacart and Doordash have become so oversaturated that it's almost more economical for me to learn new skills in my room than deliver poison to people and tear up my car in the process. (I think there's hope in both freelance writing and Twitch streaming as side income. More on that in another post, probably.) I feel so alone in all of this, even with a therapist. And the saddest part to me is, I have to pay someone to have an unconditional secure attachment. I don't even know if he would want to hang out with me if there were no money involved. That's what I want, ultimately. For once in my life to be able to lean on someone without feeling that nagging sense that I owe them. For them to do it out of the sheer desire of wanting to help me. Of seeing my value. Of appreciating me as the human that I am. But other than in my last intimate relationship, I have yet to experience that in my life. Everything's just been covert fucking contracts and having to prove my worth to be part of something, only to be forgotten shortly thereafter. I feel like I'm candle wax, melting to the fire of the systems. I can only hold out for so long before I'm a hot puddle on the floor. And nobody wants to hang out with a puddle of wax — they want to clean it up and dispose of it. The systems don't value artists and philosophers. They want me to submit to them and join the rat race just so I can "earn" the right to have food and shelter. What kind of a sick fucking world is this? I have to pay money to have basic shelter? And if I don't, I'm on the streets? As if by not being simply human I don't deserve basic shelter? And the things that I provide are somehow less valuable than that of an investor who for a living literally shuffles money around for companies that exploit people and rape the planet? The rage... I refuse to submit. I refuse to sell out. I don't care if I die trying. And at this point, it feels like nobody else would, either.
  10. Of course, this probably won't work for everyone, but I figure I'd share this because no one else has yet. https://www.medicalmedium.com/ Mr. Ghost spirit guy — the strange dude who constantly peddles his books while marketing to chronically ill middle-aged women. It's really easy to disregard him because of his hubris and the way he talks, but I've found that his perspective is still worthwhile to study. I've done every diet under the sun — vegetarian, vegan, paleo, keto, carnivore, primal raw meat — you name it. And the medical medium approach has been the only one where I've actually seen healing over the long haul. Especially with the celery juice and heavy metal detox smoothie. Wow-wee, those two pack a punch. I didn't follow him for a long time because he seemed too much like snake oil, yet his approach is really straightforward: fruits and veggies. He claims that all vinegar pickles the liver, the focus on "gut health" is misleading, autoimmune diseases are actually viral in nature, and that lectins/oxalates/antinutrients are not actually antinutrients. You can listen to some of his old radio shows here:
  11. This... It's fascinating to watch him because of his narcissism and lack of self-awareness. It's also fascinating to watch sv3rige for the same reasons. Intriguing points earlier on the stage red backlash.
  12. @Ethan1 Wow, you bring up some really good points here, especially the one about emasculated men. Good work on the diagram. @aurum Thank you ?? I'm with you on all of that.
  13. @tuckerwphotography @DocWatts @trenton @Preety_India Thank you all for such thoughtful, intelligent responses. I'm learning new things from all of y'all. I do plan to get some therapy for this, as this kind of event could definitely stick in my body for a while. Even today, my body/brain is imagining the scene again, with the gunshots behind me.