Getting sick on a holiday—The Boredom, Dispatch 7

If you're new to The Boredom or just forgot what's going on in my life, the previous dispatch is here, or start from the beginning with Dispatch 1.

Sunday, Day 31 of The Boredom, was a calm and relaxing day.  I mostly did research, did some prep work for the side business, and then I went to evening service at the First Baptist Church.  The pastor was preaching from Exodus.

Monday, Day 32, was hectic.  I hit the gym, showered, and then went out to do some more last minute Christmas shopping.  It’s freaking uncanny how every year I keep telling myself I’ll do the shopping earlier next December.  Then next December comes and I’m totally taken by surprise at how it’s December 22 and I still haven’t finished my Christmas shopping.

Luckily I’d made a dent in the holiday shopping the week before, so there were only three or four places where I spent ridiculous blocks of time in line.  Thankfully, I didn’t have an Auxiliary squadron meeting so I felt relieved to have that extra time to just rest.  My teenage nephews brought home a bug from school and had passed it around the family—jerks.  By Day 32 I was definitely feeling a cold coming on.

Day 33 was much of the same, though I had to carry tissue everywhere with me because my nose started doing the drip-drip run.  I went to bed early that night.

Day 34 was Christmas Eve.  The stress was on that day.  I must admit, no small part of that was due to family drama.  For starters, the father of my nephews—an absentee runaway coward who hasn’t seen his children in over three years—had recently called up and made promises (like he does every year) and then broke them (like he does every year).  Every time that S.O.B. does that, my niece—eleven years old—becomes an emotional wreck, her feelings of abandonment become renewed, and then she starts acting up.  Worst of all, being the only other male anywhere near her father’s age, she channels her hurt and rage and lashes out at me.

The other thing is that one of my siblings—who will not be dignified with name recognition—has been hanging around a lot.  When she’s not mistreating me, she finds ways to loiter and become a nuisance, which annoys my dad to the extreme, and the next person he sees is the lightning rod for his charged up, pent up frustration.  Guess who’s that lightning rod?

I hate to say it, but I’ve always been the soft target for my family.  It’s because I’m the quietest, the kindest, and the most patient.  Well, I suppose my mother’s really the kindest and most patient.  But I was always the quiet, well-behaved one.  (I misbehaved now and again; I just found ways that didn’t cause collateral damage the way Nameless Sibling’s shenanigans did.)  So people found it easier to lash out at me because I wouldn't do it in return.  Well, I got opportunities to surprise everyone during The Boredom.  I won’t go into detail, but I didn’t let anyone walk all over me the way they did in the past.

I love my family, but I often feel like they don’t understand me.  I’m not whining or feeling sorry for myself in any way.  I’m at peace with the things about me that my family will never understand.  But the more time I spend playing war with the Army, the more aggressive I become, and the more cold, calculating, and analytical I feel.  Whereas I used to despair at major problems, nowadays my line of thinking is “Okay, first I need to survive this crisis, regroup/rearm, and then kill the people responsible.” 

That’s an excellent way of warrior’s thinking, but it sure as hell don’t fly when it comes to jackasses on the 10 freeway, or with those in my own family who are practically begging for a broken jaw—but I can’t, because I can’t stand domestic violence.  It’s in these moments of frustration and isolation that I feel a burning desire to find strength and direction in my walk with Christ, and from libertarian thought.  The Golden Rule and non-aggression principle are truly hard to obey at times, but I must adhere to them if my honor, reputation, and conscience are to remain clean and clear.

Anyhow, Christmas Eve was upon us and the stress was there.  The entire month, Nameless Sibling did absolutely nothing to help get ready for the Christmas Eve family get-together, other than insist that she pick out the Christmas tree, subsequently leaving the work of hauling and decorating the tree to our mother (who became annoyed and cranky at being ditched, and guess who was the next person she saw).

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen that day, cooking early-to-mid afternoon so my dad would have the kitchen freed up for cooking his dishes in the late afternoon.  I also moved the furniture around to accommodate a banquet for the nuclear family and all the other relatives joining us.  Then, as my dad started cooking, I finally got around to wrapping all the gifts I’d bought for the family.  I managed to shower and put on slacks and a collar shirt (for my mother).  I don’t play that ugly Christmas sweater game crap.

Dinner was delicious and it was good to have our big family seated around a large table for this holiday.  After dinner we ate pie to our heart’s delight—it’s all about pecan pie and New York cheesecake—and then opened all the presents.  Frankly, I didn’t appreciate the unorthodoxy of not waiting til Christmas morning, but I wasn’t in charge.  It was still a great time.

Family’s important.  Because of that, I gave in to my older sister, Dee, when she insisted on including the Nameless Sibling in our evening plans.  I’m very close to Dee and visit her at her house at least two or three times a week.  She insisted that because it’s Christmas, we should include Nameless.  So I extended the invite.

She never made it to Dee’s house.  I thought she’d left with Dee, and Dee left without Nameless thinking she was coming with me.  We ended up putting two and two together that Nameless was off getting high somewhere, which is why she disappeared for a stretch of time.

After Dee’s house, I came home and racked out.  I was feeling that cold and desperately needed sleep.

I awoke at 7:30 on Christmas morning, Day 35, glad about the reason for the season and that we’d gotten presents out of the way the night before.  During the daytime I read, played Lord of the Rings Online, and hung out with Dee.  As the evening drew near I finalized the evening’s plans.

Havok was to come with me to see the advance screening of American Sniper in the dome at the Arclight Theater in Hollywood—mind you, not only did I LOVE nighttime trips to Hollywood with my friends, but this was also three weeks before the movie’s general release.  Then evening came and the exhaustion, coupled with the complete loss of adrenaline after the Christmas gift exchange was over, turned into a nasty cold that knocked me on my ass.

It was 9 PM and I felt like death warmed over but cooling off fast.  I still had an hour-long drive to Hollywood and a possible outdoor wait in line, on a cold winter night, for a two-hour movie that starts at midnight.  American Sniper wasn’t happening.  Havok was very understanding—turns out the rat bastard already saw the movie in a secret advanced screening for the Navy.

I spent all of Days 36 and 37 resting and getting my body back from the abyss (but I was royally pissed the entire time about missing the advance screening I paid for).  It wasn’t until several days later that I realized Day 36 was December 26—my two-year anniversary since I quit drinking.  Cutting booze out of my life and reforming myself were monumental tasks, but I’m very proud of those accomplishments.  I’m even more proud that getting my life together has made me feel worthy of the people I care about.

All in all, the holiday wasn’t bad.  With Christmas over, I was looking ahead to the new year.

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Shoppers photo courtesy of the New York Post.  Shooting silhouette courtesy of Cricuit Crafts on Pinterest.  Santa in the sky image courtesy of aomzinsuay.blogspot.com. Both images used according to Fair Use.

PTSD for Christmas—The Boredom, Dispatch 6

This dispatch is way overdue but thanks for bearing with me.

Catch up with Dispatch 4 and Dispatch 5.

An Afghan policeman stands with a British mercenary

The 24^th day of The Boredom was a lovely, sunny Sunday in Southern California.  I woke up with plenty of time for leisure and knocked through a chapter of Erik Prince’s book Civilian Warriors: The Inside Story of Blackwater and the Unsung Heroes of the War on Terror.  It’s a dynamite read so far, and as a libertarian I like reading about the ups and downs of the military’s private sector.

Later in the morning I took my mom with me to the Christmas service at the First Baptist Church of San Dimas.  The First Baptist Church is the oldest church and building in my town—118 years old.  It’s always been a small congregation—thirty or fewer people usually come to Sunday morning service, and there may be ten or fewer at evening service.  However, it’s the small congregations where I feel most at home.

It’s written that “…if two of you agree on earth about anything that they may ask, it shall be done for them by My Father who is in heaven.  For where two or three have gathered together in My name, I am there in their midst” (Matthew 18:19-20).

The mostly-white church interior was lined at the front with pine garlands and bright red poinsettias, all running along the piano, pulpit, and communion altar.  It was simple but tastefully elegant.  The highlight (other than the Salvation message, which is open to ALL people, regardless) was the Christmas music.

In the first twenty minutes the congregation sang Christmas songs from the old hymnal.  Then, several members either sang or performed on instruments in front of the whole congregation.  Kudos to the Santana siblings and their killer saxophones!  The pastor rounded the service out with a sermon on Luke chapter 2 (the Nativity story).

Later that night, I met the older woman from Riverside for a date at the bookstore.  I honestly don’t know why I like to go on bookstore dates; that’s the one venue where I’m guaranteed to pay more attention to inanimate objects than to the woman.  Nonetheless, this one went fine and we ended up shooting the breeze til nearly three in the morning in the parking lot.

Monday, Day 25, I spent most of my free time hustling and bustling around town, trying to finish up my Christmas shopping.  I had another date with the same lady at night.  This time I went to her home where she surprised me with hot chocolate and marshmallows while we watched old movies by the fire.  Great times!  I ended up making it home around 4 AM, but I still rose and shone at 9.

Tuesday, Day 26, was an interesting mix that reflected a lot about the people I care about and the times in which we live.

We were calling it May Day—Havok’s birthday celebration.  (What is it with all my Navy friends and naming days after themselves???)  Anytime Havok hosts a birthday celebration—or any kind of celebration other than friends just getting together to drink—people know it’s going to be crazy, and it’s going to be fun.

Interior of the Yardhouse

I linked up with Havok—the Navy vet and buddy who trashed Karaoke at Lake Arrowhead—and a few other friends at the Yardhouse Bar and Grill in Chino Hills.  I’ve had nothing but good times there!  After wolfing through a giant plate of California roll—it’s one huge role, kind of annoying, but freaking delicious—and gulping down a Dr. Pepper, we officially started a bar hop.

It was about as fun as it could get for someone who doesn’t drink, but ultimately I was there for Havok’s company (and to see if he had anything to say for himself after ruining a previous Tuesday night).  It was at the second bar we were at that Havok began to get visibly trashed—he always gets cross-eyed and starts conversations about wildly inappropriate topics.

The guys and girls were all huddled around a game of pool, leaving Havok and I alone at a nearby table.  With the others gone, he started reaching deep down again.  I don’t like it when he does this.  If he were honestly getting things off his chest, that would be one thing.  But when Havok reaches down into that deep, dark place, he’s either jumping on the Woe-is-me Wagon, or he’ll look for whatever horrible things he can say to shock his listeners.

He opened up about his depression, his emptiness, his feelings of helplessness.  He talked about feeling like he was absolutely dead inside, and just wanted to get back to his brothers on the special ops teams.   Despite how upset I was with him for getting so drunk, so fast—I knew it was only a matter of time before he’d torpedo the night for everyone—I really couldn’t blame him for hating civilian life.

Here he was, telling me that he lived for the adrenaline rush, lived for being out in the field, out with his fellow operators.  And there I was, packing my days and nights with fun or time-consuming activities and projects, just to distract myself from the fact that I slowly was—and am—going crazy not being back in the desert with my teams and my brothers.  Except I knew I’d be back on base doing what I love soon, whereas Havok may or may not be hired by the private firm he applied for.

However, Havok and I have very different ways of dealing with our boredom and… that nagging feeling of emptiness.  And his is worse, that I’ll admit.  But his coping mechanism has been to drink copious amounts of liquor.  It used to be that getting drunk and partying helped him get his temporary fix.  Nowadays, he gets as drunk as possible, as fast as possible, because passing out and not being conscious for hours at a time is preferable for him over facing his demons.

And then there’s the PTSD.  Picture yourself in this situation: it’s your best friend’s birthday and you’re explaining why it would be wrong for him to kill himself.  “You have every reason and every right to be depressed,” I told him.  “I know you have nightmares, and I know you see that shit in the daytime too.  But the fact stands that you survived.  You’re alive, still here, and our other brothers aren’t.  We owe it to them to live a long and happy life, because they no longer can.  You can’t quit, because they wouldn’t want you to.”

And I’m terribly, terribly afraid that he might quit.  I’m an ex-wino; I know how quickly alcohol can break a good man down into a sub-human lifeform.  The wars in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Africa shattered my best friend, and he doesn’t know how to put the pieces back together, and alcohol turned this once-proud, accomplished operator into a pathetic drunk.  The worst thing for me is I don’t know how to help him.

He somehow held on until we got to the third bar—where he promptly needed to be marched to the car for trying to pick a fight with the one dude who was going out of his way to be nice to our group.  I got into the driver’s seat, Havok climbed into the backseat, and a pretty friend of his climbed into the front passenger seat.  As we talked, I lit up a cigarette.

Havok asked for a drag, took a puff, and started to puke in his mouth—the girl barely reached back and opened his door in time.  After hurling, he passed out in the back seat, face naturally angled to the side.  He was done for the night.  Satisfied that his airway was still open, I gathered the rest of our group, tabs were closed out, and we all went our separate ways for the night (Havok was taken home by our buddy Joker).  It was 11:37 P.M.

Wednesday, Day 27—or should I say DAY ZERO IN MIDDLE EARTH TIME!!!—my dumb ass got carried away writing copious research notes so I missed The Hobbit: The Battle of the Five Armies on IMAX 3D.  I looked at the listings and saw a regular “Real-D” 3D show in the next town a half hour later, so I jumped at that one.  What a fun movie!

I spent most of Day 28, Thursday, with another close friend, Aqua Bat.  He picked me up from home in his brilliant, deep orange Volkswagon Beetle and we went Christmas shopping for our families.  I happened to find the Extended Edition of the second Hobbit installment, The Desolation of Smaug, and I jumped at the chance to buy it.

Aqua Bat loved the Lord of the Rings Trilogy but had never seen the Hobbit movies.  Wrong thing to say to a geek like me!  We promptly finished our shopping trip, swung by my place to grab An Unexpected Journey, and thus began our Hobbit Trilogy marathon.  We powered through both of the films on DVD and then caught a 10 PM show of the third one; I was totally game to see it again!

Around 1:30 in the morning was when Aqua Bat dropped me off at home and my numb, tingly ass went to bed lying on my stomach.

Day 29—Friday morning—I put a gun to my own head and forced myself to write Dispatch 5, despite my overwhelming desire to set up the old PlayStation 2 and play Star Wars Battlefront.  I spent most of the day researching for the Vietnam War project.  In the evening, Aqua Bat threw a kickback with a sweet bonfire in the back yard.

I made good company with a pretty local girl and we hit it off for a good minute.  There was only one problem: she’s a terrible kisser!  I feel guilty as if this makes me shallow or something, but… it was really bad!  I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly good kisser—good as any man who’s been at it for a few years, I suppose—but I really didn’t feel like getting her up to speed.  I guess wedding bells aren’t chiming in this town any time soon.

Saturday, Day 30, I went to the gym and hung out with family.  I stayed home on Saturday night—I was just too damn tired to go out.

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Afghan police and mercenary photo by the U.S. Marine Corps and in the public domain; obtained from Wikimedia Commons.  Yardhouse photo courtesy of Roadtrippers dot com.  Hobbit poster is the property of New Line Cinema, was obtained from Wikimedia Commons, and used in accordance with Fair Use.

Liberty in Halloween

Halloween is a delightful holiday where the free market takes over.

With minimal government interference, kids and adults across America engage in cultural speech through artistic expression in their costumes.

Private security firms and neighborhood watch groups mobilize for public safety, while parents make arrangements with other parents regarding supervision and safety in numbers.  Many parents will carry pepper spray or a gun while they protect their kids from real-world creeps.  It's the one night where the police don't have the monopoly on public safety and force.

The candy industry booms and people distribute thousands of pieces of candy to kids for what's basically a front-porch fashion show.  This is done without the FDA, Department of Agriculture, and Department of the Interior jumping in and blocking the exchange.

Fans of creepy stories can talk about witches, ghost, and demons--and sell spooky merchandise--without the IRS jumping down their throat for violating tax codes for religious groups.

Many adults are throwing parties where people will drink, laugh, and be merry until the wee hours of the morning.  Party-goers meet new people, some people "hook up," and others party with their old friends.

In essence, the festivities of Halloween Night are the epitome of voluntary exchange and association.  Indeed, there is liberty in Halloween.

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Jack-o-Lantern image by Toby Ord, used via CC BY-SA 2.5 license, and obtained from Wikipedia.

Feb 14 is FREEDOM DAY!

I originally wrote this in 2011.  It's just as true today as it was back then.  I wish I'd followed my own advice rather than rush into things with a woman I almost married, but in the end I dodged a nasty bullet.  Today I'm more than happy with my own company.  For the first time, I feel like an accomplished man and am at peace with the direction in which I'm headed in life.  I wish all the same for you.

Today I want to take this opportunity to reach out to my readers on a personal level about something which people of ALL political affiliations can agree with.

I have rededicated February 14 as Freedom Day for myself and others like me, including many of my readers.  I’ve had the misfortune of sharing in other people’s sorrow as many people of all age groups who find themselves in the “singles” category refer to Valentine’s Day as “Single’s Awareness Day.”  This is the day where they get an even more bitter (than usual) reminder that they are alone, romantically speaking. 

But honestly folks, why should it be Single’s Awareness Day?  So many people all over the world suffer from self-inflicted pain because they buy into the faulty philosophy that if they don’t find a romantic partner by the end of the week, or that if they (God forbid!) come out of a relationship, the world will end.  God will rain fire on Gomorrah and they didn’t even get a piece before the apocalypse! No fair!  Ridiculous as it seems, people make this their personal cross and bear it for others to see.

Rarely do people consider this: what is so terrible about being single?  This should be an opportunity for people to have the PRIVILEGE of taking a deep breath, stepping back from the world of relationships and focusing on bettering themselves.  Personally, I’m in a point in my life where I finally truly like who I am and where I’m going in life; it’ll be a long time before my dreams are fully realized, but I know that right now I’m alright.  I have the freedom to not be weighed down by the bonds of commitment to anyone other than myself, and I’m free to make my own decisions. Why is this a bad thing? Why can’t people take a step back, see the big picture, and appreciate what they’ve done (or what they want to do now that they’re not tied down either)?  This is an opportunity for people to do what they want, not what others expect of them.

Sure, it’s not so easy celebrating Freedom Day when there are flowers and red balloons everywhere, but Valentine’s Day is for couples.  Don’t be envious; let people enjoy their day and you enjoy yours.  This is the time when people should surround themselves with good friends, or at least spend the day going out and treating themselves to what they like.  There is no need to fixate on conforming to the near-hollow social standard of commitment.  It will come eventually. Everyone has their day for romance.  Spending the days watching the clock and wondering when it will happen only makes people miserable.

Furthermore, look around and see the couples that are MISERABLE: abusive relationships, shattered marriages, broken homes.  Even in politics, how many sex scandals have there been in the last year or two just on Capitol Hill?  What Democrats and Republicans have in common is more than a few sleazy members of Congress who are having affairs, making their spouses miserable.

February 14 is the day when those not celebrating Valentine’s Day can celebrate their personal freedom.  Congratulations to all those who are celebrating Valentine’s Day. I’m truly happy for you.  May everyone not celebrating Valentine’s Day have a most wonderful Freedom Day.

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Dysfunctional Valentine Hearts image courtesy of the Shoe Box Blog. Dictators collage courtesy of We Know Memes.

FIVE LIBERTARIAN IDEAS #5 - Mexican self-defense militias, Disney movies, radical Islam, etc.

Weed clinic vs. drug cartel

Before medical marijuana was legalized in Arizona, underground medical clinics had little choice but to buy the drug in bulk from the Sinaloa cartel. When the drug was legalized for medicinal use, requiring clinics to grow their own supply, many clinic operators were assaulted and some murdered. This means that legalization of the drug in the U.S. is a threat to the cartels' finances and their authority. Let's peacefully neuter these terrorist organizations! –12/24

Christmas, Christianity, Free Will

Free will is a cornerstone of being human. Freedom of choice is a cornerstone of libertarianism. Christmas is one of my two favorite holidays. Today we observe the birth of One who came into the world to give us a choice: whether we would move forward or be left behind. Regardless of one's beliefs, we all have a choice, and I utilized my freedom to make MY choice. Merry Christmas! –12/25

Mexico’s self-defense militias

Murray Rothbard describes the militiamen at Concord as fighting a guerrilla war of national liberation. In Mexico's current civil war, towns are rising up to fight their oppressors. They've defied gun control, declared their communities autonomous, and replaced the corrupt militarized police with local militias. No group of people better represents libertarian national defense and self-defense than these patriots. –12/26

Grimm’s vs. Disney

I wish America grew up on Grimm's fairy tales instead of Disney. Our society has UNREALISTIC expectations of living happily ever after and everything being magical. Women want to be treated like princesses. Instead, I think men ought to treat women like queens... A queen ranks above a common man, but like queens, women must be poised, strong, and capable of being leaders. –12/27

Islam, terrorism, drug prohibition

Muslims are not a threat to our national security--RADICAL Islam is. The difference between Muslims and Al Qaeda is the same difference between Christians and the Ku Klux Klan. But the BIGGEST threat to our national security is paramilitary drug cartels in Mexico forging alliances with American street and prison gangs. The reason they have so much power is the same reason American gangsters grew powerful in the 1920s: GOVERNMENT PROHIBITION. –12/28

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UPOEG photo courtesy of enca dot com.

The Hell With 2012 Already

Paul supporters protesting at the GOP National Convention

I remember exactly where I was a year ago when the ball dropped to ring in 2012.  I was sitting in the common room of the lodge at the YMCA camp in Bluegrass, Iowa.  New Years itself was more boring than a Ben Stein lecture on hygiene, and I was incredibly pissed that a few pricks hadn’t invited me to go clubbing with them at the Iowa City college bars.  Even still, I was surrounded by the company of Matt Pagano, Cory Chenard, and a bunch of other good people.

We were all working together to usher in Ron Paul’s victory in the Iowa Republican Caucuses and start the momentum that would bring him victory after victory and then the Republican Party nomination for the Presidency.  2012 quickly brought us a major disappointment as we watched how Fox News was quickly able to hijack his leading momentum with propaganda.  January 3 was a disappointing night for us.  We’d worked incredibly hard and we were defeated.  What a way to start the year off!

I continued with school, work, and local activism.  In May I happened to meet one of the most beautiful people I’ll ever know—beautiful on the inside and out—who was able to change me for the better in just a short amount of time.  We dated, we decided we would be exclusive, and that the long distance wouldn’t deter us.  Perhaps she wasn’t ever serious about it.  Perhaps I was too naïve to expect large bumps in the road.  Maybe I even realized subconsciously that it wouldn’t work, but my desire to live in the idealized “Zach’s world” made me blindly overlook her faults.

Somewhere along the way our relationship turned from a mutually loving give-and-take experiment to my mission to rescue her from hard times.  I became her white knight, and in doing so I focused exclusively on solving her problems while allowing my own issues to pile up on the back burner.  The sons of bitches would eventually jump off the stove and catch up to me.

We’ve since gone our separate ways and now there is only a white knight standing alone in a field, sword and shield in hand but no one to rescue.  There are no townspeople calling for me in the distance.  Frankly, I don’t know what the hell I’m going to do.  For the first time in a while I’ve had ample free time to seriously think back on the last eight months.  I can be honest with myself about the mistakes I made, and even more honest in admitting exactly the ways she did me wrong.  Basically, every free pass I gave her when she screwed up was like Neville Chamberlain letting Hitler keep Czechoslovakia.  Then I was actually surprised when I got the blitzkrieg!  It’s a bitch, but hindsight’s always 20/20.

Frankly, there are two things I can carry with me and walk tall like a man.  First, I honestly tried my absolute best to make it work.  Hell, I even tried my best to get Ron Paul elected, but that didn’t work either.  To top it all off, every single other liberty candidate I worked hard for and campaigned for individually got their asses handed to them, thanks to gerrymandering.  Damn!

There are just times when you lose and the outcome is beyond your control.  But damn it, I did my best and I have no regrets!  I worked hard for what I believe in.  Furthermore, I was able to love a human being unconditionally.  Every time she said “I love you back” I knew I was looking into the face of God.  I wouldn’t trade that experience for all the gold in the world.

Some of you reading this may ask, “Why the hell is he sharing this with everybody?”  The answer is simple.  I figure if I can be completely honest with the world, then I can be completely honest with myself and not make the same mistakes, neither in political work, the workplace, nor—especially—in my personal life.

It’s hard to deal with, but all the while I’ve stayed completely away from the bottle.  These are the kinds of disappointments I would have got wasted over just a few months ago.  But booze doesn’t make problems go away; it only makes you forget for a few hours, and then those problems come back tenfold in the morning.  The hell with that; I’m not drinking.

So here I am, sitting at a computer in southern California, with not even a vague idea of what the future holds.  I’m staying away from booze, hitting the books on Austrian economics and libertarian theory, getting back to the Bible, and going back to church.  These aren’t New Year’s resolutions; they’re already part of my new routine.  Better yet, I’ve been going on incredibly long hikes to feel empowered, and I’ve also been getting more creative with my writing and also in the kitchen. 

It’s incredibly satisfying to feel both empowered and creative.  I would recommend this in a heartbeat to other people in the liberty movement.  Too many of us waste lots of time behind a computer screen, either toiling away over a lengthy economic treatise that four people will glance at or endlessly reposting on Facebook some link exposing Monsanto.  Pretty soon my buddy Havoc and I will do a straight twenty-mile hike beginning at my doorstep and ending in Mt. Baldy Village.  How excited I am!

One thing I can proclaim is “The hell with 2012 already!”  Honestly, I’m over this year.  I learned a lot and grew a lot.  Ron Paul will always be my President and a young lady from Indiana knows I’ll always love her with all my heart, but it’s time for everyone to move forward.  Dwelling in the past is dangerous; Jay Gatsby tried it and it got him killed.

There’s a lot of work to be done in 2013.  People in the liberty movement need to learn to walk away from Facebook and do some real activism for real liberty candidates.  We also need to soften our rhetoric so our ideas can appeal to non-libertarians, especially neoconservatives and disillusioned Democrats.  2014 and 2016 will soon be upon us.  Most importantly, we all need to look inside ourselves, be honest with ourselves, and takes steps to improve ourselves as human beings.

I’ll tell you what though, if Rick Santorum runs for President again, I’m just going to mail giant sad face posters to everyone who endorses him.  Honestly, were it not for Ani DeGroot’s hard work, I would have lost complete faith in Iowa simply for the Santorum caucus victory. Double-you tee eff and never again!

2012 may not have been what we wanted it to be.  Just think of it as a rehearsal for better times.  I’d like to extend a big thank you to all my brothers and sisters in the liberty movement.

Happy New Year.

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Ron Paul supporters photo courtesy of Jayel Aheram, used via CC BY 2.0 license.  "Knights" painting by Viktor Vasnetsov is in the public domain.  Both images wre obtained from Wikimedia Commons.  Rand Paul 2016 artwork courtesy of Iowa News Liter blog with no rights given or implied.