Trick or Treat?

'Tis now the very witching time of night,
When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out
Contagion to this world.
~William Shakespeare

Halloween; the time for ghosts, goblins and your occasional 'path to roam unmasked has come again. Or.. maybe not.

I've always hated the holiday. Anything swarms of people are excited about can't be good. Why dress up like a monster when you already are one? I have plenty of masks, thank you very much. The last thing I need is one with fur and fangs and a mouthhole just the right size for inserting candy.

Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate the irony. Perhaps I'll dress up like a sociopath wearing a Mask of Sanity this year. Better yet, I can remain nothing at all. A hollow vessel in the shape of humanity.

When I was a child I remember being very eager to celebrate the holiday. Roaming the moonlit streets behind a literal, unpenetrable mask. It sounded exciting.

Of course, I had other things in mind besides pilfering candy from strangers. I suppose what I was drawn to most was the anonymity. A form of camouflage that felt so much thicker and safer than the one I was learning to wear day by day.

Wearing a mask 365 days a year is difficult. The masks a sociopath must wear are just as chafing as any real one. All masks are stifling, and it doesn't take long to feel that itch that can encompass you like wildfire. Skin rubbing and scraping against this superficial identity.

It's no surprise the temptation to tear it off is powerful. The effort of sustaining a semblance of normalcy is beyond comprehension. I'm positive this build up of frustration, irritation, ire-- is what lends us toward acting more sinisterly when backs are turned. Being 'good' is a pain in the ass. A little contrast can be refreshing.

But what of Halloween? Its popularity is definitely a strike against it. So is its custom of compelling obnoxious twats to ring my doorbell for hours on end. I guess you could easily ask me, if there's anything I actually like in the world. But if I answered that question all at once, I'd have fathoms less to write about. Wouldn't I?

Success Is As Success Does

"A successful man is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks others have thrown at him. "

-David Brinkley 

'Life is what you make of it'. A true statement in more ways than one. Some circumstances or events may be inevitable, but they are not the driving force of your fate--you are. At least, that is what I've come to know.

Your life is like a ship and it's up to you to take the helm. People waste so much time either letting the winds of chance guide them where it will, or battling it completely. The world is neither an overpowering force to succumb to nor an obstacle to overcome; it is a resource to be exploited. A tool to your advantage-- an oyster, if you will-- but only if you make it so.

Sociopaths are purported to have a grandiose sense of self; an innate belief in their superiority and capability to achieve success. This is seen as a 'delusional' symptom of a disorder, but close your textbook and look at the facts. It won't take more than a glance at the obviously high-functioning Sociopaths running amuck in your backyard to see, our little 'delusions' are often more than justified.

What you call delusions of grandeur, I call an innate understanding of the world. Superiority is not a stroke of luck, a silly nametag that falls into your lap-- it is a mindset. An implacable and justified confidence in your own abilities. In your own power to control your reality.

Of the most valuable mechanisms in the wild, camouflage is arguably the best. Used by both predator and prey alike, it is a skill with immeasurable benefit. Like the Spotted Leopard the Psychopath must be able to disappear into its surroundings like the most nimble of its prey.

Hence the many masks we weave; the many realities we project. It is both an offense and a defense in a world of Empaths: poachers of the Unemotional. We are cogs in a circle of life, not blocks in a pyramid of hierarchy. No predator roams completely un-preyed upon and no prey roams solely unpredatorily. To be successful you must be able hunt with eyes in the back of your head-- and conversely ensconce, with fangs bared.

Another factor in the success of psychopaths that cannot be ignored is the lack of investment in our surroundings. No real weight is placed on the trappings of success so there is no loss at its disappearance.

We are not burdened by responsibility or lofty hopes and dreams. We can take gambles others are not willing to make, because almost any loss is negligible. With great risks come great rewards, and when loss is no great fear, treasure is all you reap.

That's not to say our ability to recklessly pursue greatness does not ever lead to great toil or temporary misfortune. Nothing is free. No action goes without consequence, positive or negative. But, why let repercussions bog you down? Why take No for an answer? Why allow any loss to be permanent?

I have never been able to comprehend the Empath's natural propensity toward defeat-- hopelessness. Allowing themselves to be boxed into a lot in life they feel powerless to escape. Any chess-player could tell you things are never as straightforward as they appear. As a strategist, you must realize that half of power is illusion and the other half is control.

The world can be a nasty card player, but all you have to do is call its bluff. Life is, after all, a game. All I'm doing is playing to win.

I have faced countless setbacks in my ascension and I don't expect them to stop coming anytime soon. It matters not the form these hurdles come in nor the frequency which they sprout up; Victory is inevitable. Whether I leap over them with grace and poise or faceplant into the mud, nothing can stop me moving forward. That's why I'm me, and you're you.

You ask me for advice. Question how a despicable, inhuman creature such as I (your words, not mine) can flourish in a world of your making, your design--while you flounder like an outsider to your own club.

The answer is simple: I'm not one of you. I'm some sort of hybrid. One of few bastard children of Bacchus and Hecate. The amoral offspring of the god of wine and pleasure and the goddess of the mysterious arts; sorcery and witchcraft.

Of course, I'm being a bit of a drama-queen, but my implication stands. We are able to thrive because we live outside your rules. What you may lack in self-confidence, intelligence and cunning we take up in spades.

I'm not hindered by one concrete identity. I shift and morph to fit my surroundings. You all get to see the Me that giggles behind the curtain of my public persona(s). That laughs outright at the many uncharacteristic parts I get to play; Passionate Activist, Reasonable Conservative, Humble Genius, Slow-witted Everyman-- the list is endless.

I write this at a stage in my life I find most amusing. There is a certain ebb and flow to my existence (as I'm sure there is to all of yours, but mine is more noticeable, extreme). My proneness to boredom leaves me skyrocketing to all ends of the earth in search of something (Entertainment? Experience? The meaning of life?)

The way I play the game today bears no resemblance to how I played it a year ago, nor will it resemble how I'll play it a year hence.

For now- the reality I've painted for myself and the tactics I've chosen to pursue-- are leaving a pleasant taste on my palette. This performance is one of my best and most impressive. I am extending myself to the ends of the earth-- letting life wring me for what I'm worth and not coming back disappointed.  My narcissism has never been so justified in years.

Again and again it is plain to see; when all the fat is boiled from the skeleton of life--it really is just what you make it.