Memoirs of a Businessman, Chapter 4
There are a lot of people who want to stop the production of this book!
No matter what language or form you speak in the truth will always remain that, the TRUTH.
For every positive comment there are a thousand negatives ones against it. Telling me why it won’t work. That it won’t help you. People close to me claiming that I’m preaching in a language none one of you understand! If even a handful of you can relate, then why is the language I use or the verbiage that I speak my truth in an issue?
No matter what language or form you speak in the truth will always remain that, the TRUTH. But, I’ll offer you an ultimatum. Tell me what language you wish me to speak in and I promise you, I’ll learn it. In fact to benefit us both we can learn that language together. Deal?
You getting cognitive dissonance, huh?
anxiety that results from simultaneously holding contradictory beliefs.
example: knowing Rob stole candy but pretending he’s a wholesome kid.
I agree I suffer from it too. Negative thoughts weigh us down and we are constantly up against a wall of objection.
With the advent of fake news(did you know 98.8% of statistics are made up on the fly?), false pretenses, and catfishing, it’s tough to believe much of what anyone says without some validity. I need to check your street cred, son.
I believe the true prize is overcoming those walls and the adaptation that in itself brings. Self awareness, great judgement. Forward momentum.
When I began to write this book it was simply going to be a narrative of my life. Now it is so much more than that. We have begun to interview people on the Standing Rock situation and are currently looking for many more opportunities to connect with people who want see a more positive. Not only do they wish this change for themselves, but also for their children and grandchildren. This proves that people are simply tired of the same old cycle. Complacency is dangerous in its totality and especially precarious in business.
If you can’t even muster the strength to get out of bed, how do you plan to take the world over? For every single step that good people don’t take please believe that the forces of evil will work that much harder to complete their missions.
< Flashback >
So I told you that Che died outside my house, her flip-flops outside of my window while she was banging on my window screaming. No one to heed her cries for help.
Now, I’ll tell you why that was: dope (crystal meth to be specific). Drugs are a horrible addiction. They change people. I can’t say that I have never slung a single shard, or that I wouldn’t do it again. I can’t tell you that I’ve never been introduced to the horrors of the drug culture. Nor can I tell you that I haven’t used drugs myself. I can tell you however that drugs are a billion dollar business and Big Pharma has their hands in most of it.
I ran across Creed in a specific situation. Much of the back story I can’t tell you for possible fear of indictment or backlash. However I can tell you what little I do know! We were all building a culture simply people trying to survive. Creed ascribed to specific beliefs that I found myself against. He had done much state time. I moved in with him because I had no other place to live (which seems to be one of my reoccurring situations in life). I should’ve never introduced him to Che. I can’t say beyond a shadow of a doubt that he had something to do with her falling. However I can tell you that the reason I chose not to pursue our friendship was the way he dealt with it.
Che continuously asked me,
“Did you murder my mom.”
All I could do was look at him with distraught, hopeless eyes. My mouth dry and void of words to reply. The guilt stayed with me so much that one night I almost overdosed from it. I remember laying there and thinking, “holy shit I’m really wasted!”
Did you know that too much vitamin C is a bad thing? Neither did I until I used it to boost my high that night. I took a whole rack of halls vitamin C and drank some Sparks. I felt hot, skin sizzling like hot tar under the Arizona sun. I hadn’t eaten so the floor and I became quick acquaintances. After praying to the porcelain god, losing every bit of food I didn’t eat that day, I threw myself in the shower after. I knelt—prostrating myself—in the shower, allowing the water to pour on me as I clung on for dear life. My thoughts returned and clarity rushed back thru me. I went to visit Creed after Che’s death.
“Maybe she shouldn’t have owed people what she did,” he said.
All I could do was walk away from the conversation.