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Authenticity and Anonymity

Rob Says2 Comments

photo of guy fawkes mask with red flower on top on hand

I’m sitting here drinking my third beer of the day and it’s already afternoon. Yeah you can’t drink all day if you don’t start drinking in the morning. I’ve been thinking about recent developments with the guys that I associate with online. What a bunch of magnificent bastards, each and every one of them. The funny thing is, most of them are totally anonymous. At least to the common masses and the riff raff. And yet they are some of the most authentic and genuine people that I’ve had the pleasure to get to know and interact with.

I know I’ve touched on anonymity before, so I’m not going to beat that dead horse too much. I do have to say that these guys that are running full-on anonymous, not only do they say what’s on their mind, they have to be some of the most authentic guys I’ve met. Way more authentic than some of the other accounts and people that I’ve followed who choose to show their faces and put their names out there.

I keep thinking about a post that TJ Martinell wrote for Masculine Geek. He titled it, “Authenticity Is The Future Coin Of The Realm.” I keep coming back to this post that he wrote, it’s like a piece of food stuck in my teeth, a “thorn in my side,” if you will. Not because what he wrote about isn’t true, but because it is true. The more technology advances and evolves, the easier it is for us to connect with one another, but it’s also easier to lie about who and what we are, and therein lies the problem.

We are social creatures looking for connection. Whether it be shooting the shit, expressing varied ideas, or looking to meet up with someone in real life and go out, have a drink, eat some food, and ultimately, hopefully, hop in the sack with someone and share ourselves sexually with them, it’s what we do.

Authenticity is what we ultimately seek I think. We want “something that is real.” I know I do. It doesn’t matter what form that connection is, but I want it to be “real.” To be genuine. To be authentic. I want to know that the people that I’m dealing with are indeed who they say they are, that they are expressing themselves however they do, but that they are indeed expressing who they actually are. Differences of opinion and moralities are fine by me, I’m not looking for an echo chamber or a clone of myself. I’m looking for you to be you, raw, warts and all.

You guys have no idea how frustrating it is for me to have all these thoughts and ideas swirling around in my head like a tornado, all screaming to be let out at the same time, and for me to try and get them all down here, and to hopefully have them make some sort of sense and have some sort of coherency. I worry more about, “do you fucking understand what I’m trying to say here?” than anything else. I can’t even begin to type fast enough to get this all out.

Hey techno-creator guys, it would be great if you could create an app or something that would literally be able to read my thoughts and spit them out here as fast as they show up for me, and to have them make some sort of sense. Could you get on that for me? I promise you, I’ll buy it if you do.

Anyways, back to anonymity. I’ve found an app or a site, I’m not really sure what it is to be exact. It’s both, but it’s not either really. It’s about as anonymous as you can get on the interwebs though. It’s become my guilty pleasure. I’m watching people say shit, under the guise of total anonymity, and they are being raw and real. All their dirty little secrets, all their hopes, dreams, and desires, all on public display. And the replies. Oh the replies. And then there is the private chats….

All these people saying what’s truly on their minds, because nobody knows who they really are. It’s messy. It’s sweaty. It’s high drama sometimes. It’s fucking brutal. And it’s who we are. We aren’t all clean, spotless, and shiny. We are a beautiful fucking mess. We swear, we fear, we attack sometimes. We smell. We sweat, and we are insecure. It’s all out there in full glory on display. And I love it.

I’m quasi-anonymous in the respect that I don’t reveal my exact location or my last name. My last name is so common though, that if anyone was to want to look for me, it would be like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. I put my real first name and my face out there though as a way of showing my authenticity. It’s also a form of exhibitionism I guess. I like having it out there. Maybe it’s a throwback to my younger days when I played guitar and had a band.

What’s the name of this app and/or site? First rule of fightclub is…

I’ve probably already said too much about it. I don’t know why I’m being possessive about it, but I am. Maybe if you are in my “inner circle,” I’ll let you know what I’m talking about and where it is, but for the common riff raff, nah. Figure it out for yourselves.

Here’s the question of the day for you:

How do we know when someone is being authentic? TJ talked about it in his essay. Did you read it?

The truth is, authenticity is something that has to happen over time. I think this is what the guys are talking about when they talking about “vetting.” It takes time to verify if someone is being authentic or not.

I strive for authenticity in myself because it is what I would like from others. What you see on my YouTube channel is who I am. It’s pretty much the same and consistent when I’m on Masculine Geek. It’s also who I am when I’m doing Red Evenings with Jack Napier. You’ll also see it show up on Twitter. I’m a clown sometimes. I’m an ass sometimes. I’m probably the guy, that when it comes down to it, I’m probably the poster boy of what NOT to do if you want to do better in your life. And yes, that was a shameless plug for all the things that I’m currently involved in.

You want to see Men being authentic? Go watch this video, and this video, for starts. That’s guys being authentic.

What’s the takeaway from this ramble? Be authentic. Whatever that is, be that. Be the Villain. Be an asshole. Be the serious guy if that’s you. Be the clown. Be whatever it is, but just be authentic. Even if you choose anonymity, be authentic. It works out better for you if you do.

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Villain

Rob Says15 Comments
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Yup, it’s me.

I’ve said it before in a few different broadcasts on YouTube, I’ve even mentioned it in other posts. I’ve even made it part of my bio on Twitter.

You’re going to be the Villain in somebody’s story. Get used to it.

For most of my life, I’ve tried to avoid this fact. I’ve done things and acted in certain ways all in order to avoid being the villain in somebody’s story. I wanted to be the “good guy.” I wanted to be the “hero.” And even in some cases, I wanted to be the “savior.”

I’ve had to realize and accept the fact that I’m going to be the villain in somebody’s story, at least for a period of time, and that’s okay.

Guys, anytime you do something for you, you run the risk of pissing somebody off. You run the risk of offending them. You run the risk of them getting angry with you. It’s unavoidable. Sure, you can go most of your life without rocking the boat, or making waves, but you’ll end up living a life that isn’t your own. It’ll be somebody else’s life that they wanted or that they envisioned for you. And I promise you, it will be a miserable life if you choose it. That life leads to all sorts of problems for you down the road. I think that’s how many people end up as alcoholics and addicted to different drugs. Gotta medicate that pain away because you aren’t living the way that you really want to.

I think that’s how many people end up in a “mid-life crisis.” You do what’s expected of you for so long until you can’t stand it anymore, and then you “go off the deep end” and end up doing the things you always wanted to do anyways.

One of the ultimate things that living a life that isn’t yours, is that you don’t know who you are, or you do, but you think you can’t do anything about it. And it tears and eats at you on a daily basis. I call this “punching yourself in the face.” I did it for most of the duration of my marriage, punched myself in the face. I did what I thought was expected of me and ended up numb for the most part, and miserable at the end. I knew I wanted more, but I didn’t want to be the villain. So I had a choice, become the villain or take my own life. You can see the choice I made.

I think the refusal to be the villain can lead to suicide too.

Being the villain isn’t the same thing as being evil. Being the villain just means you live your life on your own terms, no matter how much you rock the boat, no matter how much you disappoint people, and no matter how much they get pissed off at you. As far as I’m concerned, if you are pissing people off, you’re doing it right. That’s a good barometer.

When I was a child, I would watch all sorts of TV shows and movies, and I would find myself rooting for the villain. The villain to me was far more interesting and dynamic than the hero. There usually was some sort of backstory where you got to see where the villain came from, and where they were going. Sometimes they were redeemed, other times not so much. The villain always had some sort of mission, whether it was world domination, absolute power, or even seduction. Whatever it was, the villain was more “real” to me, more fleshed out for the most part. I had more investment and interest in the villain than I ever did for the hero.

Which leads me to this thought:

It’s your life. You are the main character in it. It’s your show, your rules. You can be the hero in your own story, and why shouldn’t you be? But you’re going to be the villain in somebody else’s story and you need to accept that and get used to it. If you’re going to be the villain, why not be the best villain you can be? Own that shit. I do.

I’m not advocating criminality here, or anything illegal. That’s on you if you decide to go that route. Responsibility to the responsible. But if you are going to be the villain, you might as well own it and be the best villain you can be. Relish it, cherish it. Thank whoever made you the villain. After all, without a villain, you don’t have much of a story. At least not one that is worth telling and savoring.

A parting thought:

What is our fascination with villains? Jesse James. Darth Vader. The Joker. It seems that western culture throughout the years has celebrated the villain, even if secretly. So why not be willing to be the villain? Why not own it when it happens? Why not be good with it? Chicks dig “bad boys” and assholes right? And what are they really? They are the villain in somebody’s story. Maybe it’s an ex-girlfriend’s or an ex-wife’s story. Maybe it’s someone in your own story. If there are a great many people out there who celebrate the villain in one way or another, why not be the villain so that they can celebrate you too?

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The Small Hours

Rob SaysLeave a comment
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The small hours are brief and out of focus.

The nerds and know-it-alls over at Free Dictionary define the small hours as: “the early hours after midnight,” “the hours immediately after midnight, the wee hours,” and “midnight or 1 a.m. to dawn, when the numbered hours are ‘small.'” These definitions got me to wondering what’s the difference between the small hours and the witching hour, so I had to go and look up that one too:

The witching hour or hours, according to the geeks over at Wikipedia, is “….between the hours of 2 and 4 a.m., corresponding with a 3 a.m. peak…” So more or less, basically the same thing.

The first time I ever heard of the term, “the small hours,” was a cover song that Metallica did on their Garage Days Rerevisited E.P. back in the day. The song has a weird sounding, yet fairly cool intro. Look it up on the interwebs sometime, or if you’re like me, bust out your old cassette player and pop it in and give it a listen.

Why am I going on about the small hours? Because I’ve always considered the small hours to be between 2 and 4 am, when the majority of people are asleep. When I first heard of the term small hours, I was 18 or 19. The internet wasn’t around yet, at least not like it is now. Cell phones were luxury items, and pagers were just becoming a thing. The majority of the jobs in the area where I lived were not 24/7 operations. People actually slept. And if you were a young hellion like me, that was the hours when I was usually up and on the prowl.

I miss those days of being able to walk the streets and not see a single car, except for one, which was the cop on patrol, and so you went into the shadows to avoid detection. I miss knowing that for the most part, I was the only one awake at those hours. The world seemed smaller and yet bigger because of this. Maybe you’ll understand this, maybe not. I miss summer at 3 am, when the heat of the day is long gone, but it’s still warm and you walk in black socks or barefoot to stifle the sounds of your feet. There’s a ninja move for you right there. Black socks or barefoot or go home.

One of my most poignant memories of the small hours was sleeping in bed with my girlfriend at that time, being deep asleep and then feeling her foot brush mine under the covers as she moved and changed position. It woke me slightly, just barely enough to register that she was there and that she had moved. I remember stroking her foot and ankle with my foot and almost drifting completely back to sleep, until her foot started playing “footsie” with mine. She wasn’t awake either, that not awake, not deeply asleep state. Her foot sliding up and down my calf and my shin, and before we both knew it, it was on. Cue sexy 70’s porno music.

And when we had finished, I remember looking with blurry vision at the clock. It was 3:45 am. The small hours. Nobody else had been awake at that time. Hell, both of us had barely been awake. After the sex was over, we didn’t even bother getting out of bed. We just wrapped ourselves into each other and went back to sleep. Not a slow drift either. More like dropping straight into a coma from a cliff. Neither one of us had said a word to the other while our bodies were intertwined, I think we barely opened our eyes during that moment.

Nowadays, nobody sleeps anymore. There are people up at all hours of the day. If I was to go out prowling the neighborhood like I did when I was younger, I would not only be dodging multiple cars, but people wandering around as well. I could do it, my stealth skills are still on point, but I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to have to dodge cops, drunks, and other assorted weirdos if I don’t have to. I want to be able to walk down the middle of the road, and feel like I’m the only living person on the planet.

In my younger days, I could be awake at 2 or 3 am and not hear a single car going by. Just the breeze rustling the leaves in the trees. Last night I could hear neighbors coming and going. Where the fuck are people coming from and going to on a Sunday night/Monday morning? Seriously people, don’t you have jobs? Don’t you have to be up to go to work? But that is the point, today a lot of jobs are 24/7 and flex scheduling and all of that.

The small hours have gotten even smaller. The small hours have lost their potency.

I want to climb up on my roof and stare at the city lights from afar. Then I want to lie back and look at the stars. The only thing that is missing is you. I need you to come with me and be a witness to it all. Witness the small hours with me and by our sharing it, maybe expand those hours again and bring back their potency. It would almost be perfect. Just gotta get rid of that asshole driving his car.

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