This essay is Ovum Malus tier content re: Patreon.
bad egg, know your strength
Ugly duckling. Black sheep. Bad egg.
Those are the words often used to label unusual people. Individuals. Outsiders.
They’re used against you because you don’t do what you’re supposed to do. You don’t look the right way. You’re not where you should be—invariably, where everyone else is.
When you speak, you say improper things. Your thoughts don’t reflect the general consensus.
When you do agree with a popular opinion, it’s for personal reasons, for careful reasons of your own choosing, not because you fear standing apart, not because you’ve been swept along by the common tide.
When the crowd is marching with pitchforks and torches, you’re in your lair sipping a beverage, observing the chaos from a wise distance. Or you’re simply ignoring it.
Frequently, that’s the worst thing you can do: be silent.
You have to be vocal (as long as what you say is what must be said).
You can bet that whatever you say will be problematic, one way or another, for those who demand your participation, your words, your energy.
So you decline the invitation, devote yourself to that which stimulates, sustains, and interests you.
How dare you not join in the group activity? How dare you stand out?
Standing out sometimes involves withdrawal.
Remember your egg, Cunning Serpents. There are times when the tough shell is required for recuperative interludes, self-preservation, and creative endeavors. Your shell houses the tranquility, the fuel that zealots or psychic vampires would steal from you to build their kingdoms because they lack the ability and inner resources to provide their lives with meaning.
Abusers, psychic vampires, and busybodies of all varieties will accuse you of being “bad” for not doing what they wish you to do. They desire the heat of your reactions to spark and feed their hearths, which are cold and empty without you.
I reject their madness and treasure the warmth of my shell.
Use your egg to its full advantage and you’ll soon be left alone by the ravenous and compulsive, who’ll quickly turn their attention to sources of nourishment that are less effort, easier to obtain. Fortunately for us, the ripe fields of the provoked, the ignorant, and the guilt-ridden are abundant and ready for consumption.
This is why knowledge, self-care, and self-reverence are so vital for one’s well-being and a successful, pleasurable life. When battle is necessary, we break from our bad egg shells and strike with fangs and venom, to the astonishment of the ones who wanted to prey upon us.
As I just wrote on Twitter, every day I feel more and more like the vampire couple in Only Lovers Left Alive, except in a 70s lair. This will be reflected on my Patreon, the Society of Cunning Serpents.
Back in 2015, when I wrote There’s a Hula Girl on my Dashboard, I had finally extirpated myself from the life-sucking muck of Judeo-Christianity… almost. I was a “secular humanist.” In that book, I wrote about my religious experiences, and there was something along the lines of “if your system doesn’t include everyone, I am not interested in your system.” I am no longer of that mind at all. The reason I believed this nonsense was because of Judeo-Christianity’s false universalism, which I’d rejected. Its false elitism, which was more like a selective approval of mediocrity. If you were in the least eccentric, if you asked too many questions, if you went beyond the prescribed limits… you were excluded from the “universal embrace.”
What I’ve learned since then—what I’ve known since childhood, actually—is that there is no such thing as a “universal embrace.” In addition, it’s a deeply unhealthy and harmful notion. As I wrote in Masterful, PTSD had given me an almost superhuman ability to withstand bullshit, though I wasn’t fully aware of it until fairly recently. This ability, often a source of strength and resilience, also made me vulnerable to vampires of the death cult variety. When I was a child, boundaries were forbidden by the pater horribilis, though I maintained mine anyway; the consequence, however, was an unconscious weak point, that of allowing myself to give too much of my time, energy, and self to all and sundry, in a mistaken attempt to bestow upon myself the acceptance and respect I’d been denied.
I give myself the acceptance and respect I need, and this doesn’t require that I accept and respect “everyone.” Not only am I finished with Judeo-Christian lies, I’m finished with humanistic goo as well.
There is a fine sort of elitism, as a matter of fact. It states its exclusionary practices outright, and doesn’t mask them with a deceitful and delusional “universal love” stance, which only serves to subdue and deplete the ones it claims to love.
I don’t expect anyone to be perfect; I make compromises. But those who benefit from these compromises are the ones who love me and accept I’m not perfect either. I no longer give to all and sundry. I’m discerning. Not everyone deserves my time, energy, self, and love. I share such things with those of my choosing, those who also contribute to my existence in delightful ways. Creative, interesting, appreciative individuals who have the intelligence and self-resourcefulness to know that no one is always there.
This is my elitism, and my life is better, more joyful, more productive, and more vibrant for it.
Guard your life like the precious treasure that it is.