Posts Tagged ‘life


Maxim #1

What is the meaning of life? That question is an attempt to avoid the responsiblity that God has given directly to us: That we define our own meaning.

How great and terrible is that gift. Don’t be afraid of it, though. Attack life.


Do women date down?

you know this guys got cash...
you know this guys got cash…

If her daddy’s rich, take her out for a meal. If her daddy’s poor, just do as you feel.~   In the Summer Time, Mungo Jerry

 I can’t help but notice the connection between having a beautiful girlfriend or wife and having money or power–or maybe just a nice car. (Expensive and fast, which equals money and power)

Men are considered jerks if we want a nice looking lady. We’re way out of line if we want sex. We’ve been told that sex is all we think about. Well ladies, I’m here to tell you, it is a big deal but it’s not all we think of. We think about football, video games, poker night, beer and sex. Oh–I already mentioned sex. Sorry. And beer, did I mention beer?

But maybe, just maybe, ladies, we use all of the things I’ve listed to sooth our wounded egos. See, a man pretty much defines himself by his woman (yep, we like our egos inflated by our women) and by his job. What’s really great is when you come home from a long day’s work and your woman comments on what a hard worker you are. It’s like two for one. Yea, I think our egos are hurt, because you gals can’t help but fall in love with guys who have money and power.

I walk around base here and when I see a pretty girl, I say “officer’s girl”. Sure enough when the guy turns around, he’s got captain’s bars on the front of his uniform.  I look away, so as not to be rude. (That’s not the way I roll.) Side note: Some guys say other guy’s girlfriends are fair game, they’re not married after all. Not me. Violates the Golden Rule.

End of digression.

But us Children of a Lesser God have little chance. I mean, head down to the local clubs here in Germany. You don’t see officers down there very often. They simply don’t have to be there. All they have to do is flash the rank, or rev the engine of their new BMW M5 a little louder as the smokin’ chick walks by. Maybe lean out his window: “How you doin'”?

I remember when I was in college, thinking the opposite of what I’m saying here. It seemed like some very regular looking guys with not a lot of money or much else, were able to score beautiful girlfriends. I see that much less now.

Oh, and looks and athleticism don’t matter much, either, unless those attributes bring the guy money and power. Money,money, money…

We see it in Hollywood too. When does an actress marry a guy who makes less money than her? maybe the bag-boy at Piggly Wiggly. He’s a really nice guy,I hear. Smart too. Working on his thesis in physics, about four-vector in relativity. Don’t ask me what that is. Give him a chance.

There’s this really degrading T-Shirt on It says: Fat Girls Try Harder, on its front. It’s degrading yes, but in some ways it’s true. People who feel they’re lacking in some areas try to make up for it in others. We could say, Broke guys with no influence try like fricken crazy.  I wouldn’t argue.

So maybe you should step outside your safe zone ladies. Give the guys driving Opels a chance. The guy at the gas pump who asks you out–don’t laugh at him when you drive away. He tries really hard.





He who seeth the abyss, but with eagle’s eyes,- he who with
eagle’s talons graspeth the abyss: he hath courage. ~ Friedrick Niezsche~ Thus Spake Zarathustra

No, not cooking spray. Possitive Aggressive Mental-Attitude.

I learned of this when reading some articles on how Navy SEALS deal with fear and stress. I’ve used it for over a decade now, and it works.

Here’s what it is: In any given stressful situation we must take action before action is taken upon us. In a fight, we never let our opponent come to us. To be defensive is to lose. Action beats reaction.

For instance, when I’m training or playing sports, mentally, I become very aggressive. My face and demeanor change. During physical training, I view the exercises as my way of giving the finger to the universe. The pain can’t beat me. No–I like the pain. Bring it.

Yesterday, I was at the gym. I vary my workouts quite a bit, from their intensity, duration and selection of exercises. Today, I decided I was going to have a tough leg day. Sitting in the Nautilus leg-press machine, I pinned the weight at 430 lbs and pressed out twenty medium-paced reps. I walked around for a few minutes then returned to the machine, increased the weight by twenty or so pounds and did fifteen more reps. Finally, ten reps with a little more weight. My legs were smoked, but I wasn’t done.

I walked, if a bit unsteadily to the treadmill. I wanted to run for at least 10 minutes, at a high clip. I haven’t been running regularly here in Germany, since I’m still in-processing. This and my bout with the leg press were going to make things tough.


The belt started rolling. Five minutes in I wanted to quite. There’s no use in denying it. My legs were smoked. Just stop, I thought–you’ve already had a good workout. But no. You’re a pussy if you stop now, Doug. You can’t go five more minutes? Think of all the incredible things people have done, and you can’t go five more? I forced myself to smile–that always works in times of stress–just laugh at the whole, ridiculousness of the situation. Six minutes in, and I was counting the seconds.

This run was mine. Physical training is me proving to Time and the Universe that they can’t win. I’m their master. All of the younger men here, that walk around looking hard–I’m harder. That’s what I tell myself.

The treadmill hummed to a halt. Ten minutes were up. I’d won.

Attack your life. Don’t let it attack you. Bring the fight to the enemy, and never, never,never give up.


Nothing’s easy

I’m really feeling worn out. I want to go home. I want to feel like a regular person again.
This whole process has been quite tough on me, even though the people that I’m in training with seem to think it’s easy for me.

Living with 50 other people in a bay for the last 3 months, people that are younger and of diiferent backgrounds, the control of virtually every aspect of my life, from what I can wear, to how I must stand while I’m speaking is difficult for me. It’s not an easy transition when you’ve spent 36 years of your life doing things a certain way. I’m certain that if I were to ask my instructors and platoon sergeants about my performance, they would say that I’m doing well. But my fight is on the inside, like it’s alsways been I suppose.

There are times I want to walk away. Go back to wearing jeans, and serving coffee or doing something simple. At heart, I’m a philosopher. I know that once all of this is over, the training that is, I can go back to my life, do what I want after work etc. But for now, I miss my daughter and my friends and laughing. Things that used to interest me, don’t do so anymore. It’s day to day right now.

I put a lot of pressure on myself, always expecting to be the best, which creates internal tension. It serves me well in most instances, but I find that I wear down in situations that require mental endurance. I need to learn how to pace myself. This is quite a long process; 4 months of 8 hrs a day classes–intense physically and mentally– not to mention Basic and possible deployment. The idea of deployment doesn’t bother me. I’ll be doing my job and be treated like an adult, unlike here.

I was reading an article in Men’s Health on how Navy SEALS are trained to handle stress. One of the things that they teach is to place the team first, which removes a SEALS attention from his own problems, and gives a psychological boost when he knows he’s helped someone else. I’ve used this technique several times, and it works, no doubt.

Today, I read a quote from Ernst Junger, famed WWI veteran and a man who was bestowed virtually every literary prize there is by his German homeland. He said: “What ever doesn’t kill me makes me stronger, and whatever kills me makes me incredibly strong.” His book, “Storm of Steel” chronicles Junger’s experience in WWI and how he was able to channel his rage and energy, to actually feed off the war and make himself stronger by it. Some left-leaning people hated him for his view that the war made him better, but no one challenged his literary abilities.

The only thing that can keep me going is to think the way Junger did.

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