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ILS' topic of blog type thingies and stuff!

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Author Topic: ILS' topic of blog type thingies and stuff!  (Read 3264 times)
The one and only ILS
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Gender: Male
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Posts: 69,166

That guy

« Reply #300 on: 19 July, 2010, 07:13:01 pm »

June 20th - 2010 - In which I face my own psychology, physiology, and I whine

As the title would suggest, this is me putting my thoughts down on paper. Text. Internet. Ones and zeroes, ****, I don't know. Thoughts are being put down, that's what matters. Whining will also commence, as it is me we're talking about. Where is the fun about writing stuff if I can't whine about my life sucking (which it doesn't, I'm just an attention **** with a curiously low self esteem). So yeah, I will attempt to be funny as I always try to be. This is an indicator that I will be talking about time travelling dicks in just a few seconds, as that is the pinnacle of my humor.

That's the low self esteem talking right there. Though a time travelling dick show could be cool. I'd make up a clever name for it, but you'd have to be funny to do that.

EDIT: Seriously, I whine a lot. Just a heads up if you do dare read this depressing look into my sad, sad psyche.

The older I grow, the more I have learned about my own psychology, and my own self esteem. Ever since an incident a few years ago, (which some of you will probably know and be really, really tired of), I have come to the conclusion that I do not have one ego, but two. My ego, the basis for self esteem that every sentient person is in posession of, and a Man ego. Now those may seem similar, but you'd be wrong. You'd be as wrong as if you were agreeing with Mel Gibson. My ego, is how I view myself based on my own premises and expectations. I expect this much of myself, do I fullfill these expectations? That's my regular ego. By picking and choosing my own expectations, I can keep it under a great deal of control (Yet I still manage to have a bad self esteem. Goes to show that intelligence isn't the same as being smart.)

And then we have the Man ego. That motherfucking man ego. It's an ego I have no control over. It's how I judge myself based on ye olde (like, so ye olde that ye olde wasn't even invented yet) gender roles. Men are the hunters, the gatherers. They go out, and they kill. They **** snap bear necks like nobodies business, and then eat the bear, fur and everything. Then, once they've eaten the bear, they **** it out and throw the crap at the bear's wife and children, all while banging their own respective wives.

Obviously (sadly) these roles are not the same today. The gender role, translated into modern terms: The man is the strong, brave one. He goes out and gets what's needed, and protects his tribe or in this case, his family. He's the strong and dependable leader, always willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done.

If you know me, you should already see the problem.

When my Man ego looks at it, it doesn't laugh. It doesn't even sigh. It takes one look at me, before simply shaking it's head in deep utter shame, like a mother would do to her child, after finally giving up on it. I have been lifting weights for a couple of months. Though it has been FAR from long (Just about 10 minutes a day), I was content. I was doing something, strengthening my muscles, even if it was just a single cell at a time. Then earlier today, me and a few friends (bunch of nerds) started talking, with the assistance of IMs, about push ups. Don't ask me why, I was probably thinking of hentai or something at the time. Someone starts to talk about how many push ups they can do. I have never been able to do push ups before, but with the knowledge of my weight lifting in mind, I went "Hmm, surely I can do some, now that I've at least trained a tiny bit." So I get down, start to do push ups...

A few seconds later, my wrists are in pain, and I've taken six push ups before my arms litterally snap as if they were twigs, and I plummet to the ground. Six push ups is definately not a lot, but it's the biggest amount of push ups I've ever been able to take without breaks. Excited, like a little kid just encountering his first Nintendo 64, I sit back in front of my laptop, a big grin across my naive face. And then I see the other results.



17, followed by a "Yeah, I have litterally no muscles." message.

And this is where the Man ego rears it's ugly, ugly head. A guy, apparently with literally no muscles, still managed to take 17 push ups. I took six, before my arms simply gave up on me, and my wrists sent thunderbolts of pain through my arms.

Six. ****. Push ups.

It's at times like that, where the truth hits me. The truth I hide from and try to compensate for by investing my time reading, studying, and learning. The harsh truth that I so desperately try to ignore, but that gnaws at me like a rabid dog would gnaw on a bone.

I am a pathetic weakling. Even by nerd standards.

These guys are nerds. They follow the latest gaming news. They read comic books. They live streamed E3. They play Magic: The Gathering. They are by all accounts, my fellow men. They are like me, we share the same hobby. But all of them, even the guy with no muscles, are at least almost thrice as strong as I am. Even among my own kind, known for lacking physical strength, I am a pathetic weakling. And that hurts my Man ego. Men are supposed to be the physically strong gender, and I fail so miserably at that. Realizing and admitting this truth, I kid you not, is painful. To admit that even though I've trained for several months, I have made no improvement, hurts.

I **** hate my Man ego. So very **** much.

Desperate, I go back down to the floor, doing more push-ups. And I simply can't do it. With every push up, I feel the strength leave my body and that terrible, terrible coldness sneak up my back. It snakes it's way up my neck, before finally arriving in my brain as one, sad but cold truth. I am a terrible man. I do not fulfill the gender role. And we've just touched upon the strength attribute of the Man ego. Men are also meant to be brave. I jump at the sight of bugs, particularly spiders, a feat usually attributed to women. Being able to defend the family all leads back to the whole strength issue: Leaving aside the fact that no women have been caught by my trap (Perhaps I should replace the Barbie bait by My Little Pony), I would be wholly unable to defend my girlfriend if we were attacked. I would be unable to defend my child if we were attacked. Based on the gender role, I am a terrible man, unable to fulfill my role in society.

And it is depressing to admit. I have always known that I was a disgusting man. A sick, nasty, disgusting and downright detestable man. This, I have always known and acknowledged (Whether or not it's true, I don't know. My bad self esteem has a habit of talking for me). But I never think of myself as a terrible man... so when I'm reminded about it, I get depressed.

I do not get a depression. Simply being a pathetic weakling, even amongst my own kind, isn't enough to send me that far down. But it is enough to make me sad, and make me question what the hell I should do. I do not wish to be a women, yet I am clearly not fit to be a man. It leaves me in despair for a few short hours, before I simply accept my fate as a pathetic, terrible man.

But then the good side of the Man ego rears it's beautiful head, like a sunrise that breaks the dark blackness of the night. Unlike my regular ego, my ;an ego heals. After a while, I forget I only took 6 push ups, and I go about my merry way as if it never happened. In a few days, I will have completely forgotten, or unconsciously chosen to ignore, my weakness and cowardice. But right now, I am looking straight into the face of truth.

And it is a truth I could have lived without seeing...

Of course, ending it on that note wouldn't be very funny, so here's a joke. "Why do I think Link is a nazi? Because he spends a lot of his adventures killing Chus."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go grow my hair out and dye it black.

Let the "lolweakling" and "six push ups lol ****" jokes commence!

I may exaggerate a bit, but most of what is written is the truth, that I can't handle
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