Am I crazy?
I ask myself that a lot these days and I doubt that I’m alone.
When a narrative is pushed so hard it’s a real mind-fuck to push against it. It feels wrong. If I’ve learned anything from Scott Adams this year (and I’ve learned a lot) it’s that people really only act on their feelings and the rest is all show. These feelings and instincts have to come from somewhere. I’m sure every Proud Boy and every Proud Boy’s girl has felt that they’re the nut in the room, the guy with shit painted on their car.
Pictured: Property of a Reasonable Man.
I’ve drifted off too many times thinking this lately. Fear slips in and sheer darkness washes over me, and not the cool Danzig kind either.
“Am I really crazy? Am I really the villain? Do my Western values really blind me to my wickedness?”
Basically, “Am I a sinner?”
The simple answer is yes, and I know you don’t want to believe it.
Boys, we are crazy. We are sinners.
Take a minute and let that set in. Feel the ugliness, the cold. Let it make you stronger.
If truth is more about feeling than thought like Scott Adams says, than I don’t need to explain and further. The important thing to remember is that feeling crazy is normal. It’s all part of being human and other humans having any influence on us. When we go against the grain we wish dissent upon ourselves. We are asking for it. We’re on a slut walk for traditional values.
The instinct to be self-critical is the way we temper ourselves and seek out improvements in ourselves. When you have that moment and you start to feel crazy for your beliefs, let yourself feel crazy. Let yourself feel like the villain. Let it temper you. Learn to operate with it and let it change you. I advocate this because I don’t think these moments of self-doubt will really change you. Your DNA made up its mind before you were even born. But it’s an important exercise to question yourself and your beliefs. It shows that you’re a truth seeker and not a bandwagoner.
I tend to think we are who we are and that person comes out more as we get older. Maybe it’s destiny, maybe it’s fate, what it certainly is is hard to disprove. Disposition has a lot to do with genetics like most things and we have ours, they have theirs. We may be their sinners, but they’re ours. The fight is in the 12th round and the final bell is coming. Whether you’ve spent this election doing the rope-a-dope or out on the frontline shitposting, you’ve surely asked yourself, “Am I the crazy one?”
If your gut beliefs can survive the scrutiny than they are worthy of success and survival.
That’s quality. Every time I feel like the guy that drives the car with shit painted on it I accept the challenge and find myself back where I was before the fear set in. Changed, but stalwart. This is not a weakness, this is what makes us strong. Think of a blacksmith hammering red-hot iron into shape. Without conflict, without change, and the influence of the hand that drives the hammer we are nothing more than raw material.
Raw Material doesn’t fell trees, axes do. Iron doesn’t till the soil, plows do.
When you feel like the crazy one, give in. Wallow in being the outcast. Then savor it. You will come out on the other side stronger, more purposeful, and more useful. Be the plow, not the iron.