I'm Alex

[noscuter1]

Well, it never became obvious to me, until it was too late to apply to fly for the RAAF. But even with idiocy such as mine, I beat out tens of thousands of brilliant kids (many of whom were more brilliant, and more 'deserving' - on merit) than I was. And I was sent to Tamworth, where I bumped into reality. I'd never even driven a car - there were kids there, who'd been flying solo for years. It was ridiculous that I was even putting instructors' lives in danger or given control of aircraft - but there I was. 17 and with a hangover from Schoolies, doing circuits and aerobatic maneuvers. Arguably successfully. Well, I'm alive so...

I'll never really know how lucky we were. My instructors and I. But I got airsick a lot, and they didn't. But our faces often seemed equally ashen coming in for debriefs.

I don't know if that's why they agreed to bend the rules for me, somewhat unethically but then I do have some 'advantages' which aren't entirely advantageous. But knowing I had no chance of 'qualifying' (it was outrageous that I was even placed in that position, but then I got there using the same tricks), with only two flights left I got a medical leave to defer and come back - which was ridiculously unfair, because there is a reason why the policy ostensibly only allows one shot at Flight Screening. If I went back, having done it already. I would have literally steamrolled everyone, completely unfairly. All my training flights could be tailored for the entire program of testing. It was outrageous that they even agreed. I was outraged, and in shock - when I'd devised this cunning plan primarily in desperation but hardly seriously. I was horrifying myself, consistently; I seemed to have an ability to make people do outrageous things. I was convincing people to give me outrageously unfair advantages, which I wasn't entirely sure I even wanted. Because who wants merit when it's been manipulated? I didn't. But then I did. It was complex. I was confused.

I was also in denial. Because I used these manipulative tricks very effectively and without any shame whatsoever, to survive for a decade of religious insanity. Then I forgot to ditch the lifeboat, when I put my feet on 'dry' land. I continually achieved and 'gamed' the system on account of this "X factor" that I tried to deny the existence of (that should have been a clue); but with so many people noticing it and pointing it out audibly, without being able to put their finger on it...I became creepily creeped out by the whole thing but I couldn't hardly deny it - so in denial, I just assumed I was 'personable' or something. I wasn't that far off. Do you know what being personable means? Diplomatic? Well-liked? Popular? I became all those things.

And the entire time, I felt impossibly creepy. It was strange, but it shouldn't have been. To be any one or all of those things, you have to be a creep. It wasn't until I was 29 when I realised what this whole "X factor" bullshit was. I was manipulating people. I was never more than an exceptionally brilliant little creep. But then I'd been trained by the best creeps in the business, inadvertently. Religious Middle Men of God, who wanted to 'care' for me.

Initially, I used these traits to survive a ruthless environment where almost everyone was 'cared' for - and I simply couldn't allow such a thing, and this was very important to me. I managed to survive 'successfully' for 14 years (Google "Children of God" if you're intrigued - it will be another 50 years before I'll ever Google such a thing). But I never threw those traits away, when I escaped into Reality. Which wasn't that different from the cult, but then I did what I thought I had to do to survive high school (which was a mistake, because those cheeky bastards were just faking happiness) - would you believe it? I literally couldn't have imagined anyone could be moronic enough to have a motive to fake such a thing! But you better believe it. This is the moronic world we live in, and I bought their idiocy hook, line and very nearly sunk 200 or so times trying to be 'popular' - I'm officially the worst surfer alive, in history - and I'm not sure exactly how I lived, quite frankly; because I very nearly didn't, but only 200 or so times in succession attempting to deny the reality, which was - quite 'embarrassingly' - that I needed help. It's a strange world where someone would get embarrassed, at needing help - don't you think?

How are we doing on motive, over there? Can you come up with a motive, that might explain such a peculiarity?

I was the world's worst surfer, in history. Because I was so terrified, I was incapable of - not - being sane. And that's insane, when you're surfing and don't know what you're doing. I would fail the Moment of Truth I didn't know about, every single time. And get punished for it, brutally at times, almost every single time. But I was too ashamed (interesting, no?) to ask friends for lessons, and I had friends who were very good surfers; never mind that, I could figure it all out on my own. This is what I believed, quite irrefutably; and I very nearly died for this insanity, only 200 or so times.

I know 7 billion people who have made a similar error of logic. They believe they should fight the Game of Life, alone. Hmm. Pretty sure that's what I'd convince you all to do, if I was planning to exploit the entire world. What do you think? If you do...

I'm not sure I ever caught a single wave. Because at the worst moment in the world to become sane, I would 'sanely' back out of committing when I should have been bright enough to figure out was - after - the Moment of Truth. I was committed, and once committed, you cannot back out without paying the Piper. But it's not insane, to think you can - or 'know' you should. It's just a contradiction that you cannot, and shouldn't - but life is full of ironic contradictions. Staring down, whilst perched at the peak of waves I'd almost caught or probably could with a last second effort, I'd look at my drop zone if I made a mistake - exposed coral, sand banks under 2 inches of water, jagged rocks and so forth - and I'd go the other way. I'd run back into the Russian machine guns, if I was at Stalingrad. I wouldn't be able to help myself. I'd just run and run until someone's bullet got me. I'm not sure I'd care which side, and when you can understand how that is sane - you'll understand the reality of heroic dying for Royalty or Religion. I'm not sure anyone has ever died for Country. You'd have to make a good argument, if you disagree.

You don't have to make a good argument, for why you cannot back out of insanity, once you've been committed. I've tried that, 200 or so times. Amazingly, I lived. Oh it's amazing, or you don't understand what exposed coral in a drop zone does to the human body. It gave me hints, often; of its capacity. You cannot flirt with stupidity like that very often, and live to talk about it. No one is insane enough. But then you're not a winner like I am, or you wouldn't understand why I did it 200 times.

I wasn't happy. So I did what it took to win. Over time, in searching for the value of X in the formula 7 billion people are trying to solve:

You + X = Happiness

...I somehow got it into my head that X = $. So the formula became Me + US$1 million = Happiness, somewhat arbitrarily. It was just what I needed, okay?! No one ever challenged my goals and dreams. I was never forced to defend any of them. They all just encouraged me. Or if they didn't, I cut them out of the way. Loose weight, obviously. How dare they stand between my dreams and me. Clearly, loose ballast. I threw a lot of good friends and some girls I didn't deserve, overboard.

They were getting in the way. I had no time for their dumb time-wasting. I wouldn't be drawn into a discussion about my happiness, or what I needed to do to get it. I decided the value of X was US$1,000,000. So I went and got that shit. Actually, I went substantially past that point, but only because I wasn't sure I wanted to die. And I'd already won enough BS dreams and won enough BS Xs to believe, there was no X. I just kept running past the finish line, for a few months. Not in denial. Just unwillingness to accept, that I had made a horrible mistake - or to be more accurate, a lifetime of them. I no longer believed happiness was even possible; at least, not for me. I'd had my chances, I told myself. I looked back at what - and whom - I'd sacrificed along the way. And after having won for almost two decades straight (ignoring a few ripples, along the way) - in pain and unwilling to live in misery any longer - I decided I would not be chasing BS X idiocies anymore.

It was arguably the sanest moment of my life since I'd escaped the insanity of the CoG. But I wasn't - entirely - sane. I was merely unwilling to change X to 10 million, then what? 100 million? Then what? A billion? This is literally what people in denial are doing all over the world. I was unwilling to suffer any longer. Which meant, I was a 26 yr old millionaire with one of the finest minds alive (but then this has always been painfully terrifying, for reasons an idiot wouldn't understand - which is why I envied idiots my entire life, idiotically), nauseatingly popular or 'popular' (and it truly is nauseating how they're almost identically the same thing) that a great deal of my unhappiness was the result of being forced to reject 90% of applicants who simply assume they're your next best friend. Or at least, they'll act this way.

They get so ugly when you bring them to Reality, that you can forget that the most of the 10% you have allowed into your 'inner circle' (whatever that means, for whom) are equally as horrifying as those you sent packing on their way. They're equally as insane / terrifying / inhumane. Fact.