Subject : A Public Service Announcement
Posted Date: : Apr 3, 2006 8:34 PM
For the time being this channel will be dead. Experiencing technical difficulties because there were campus contests to be entered.
I am getting published for a second time, but once again it is a single poem, and not the poem I wanted to win selection.
When am I going to make out with anything more than scraps of recognition? I suppose I'm probably just not fit for recognition just yet. Ah well.
I'll be back later at an undisclosed time and at an undisclosed place with more tasty treats to read, but until then...
[stop]
Clean with alcohol only. Do not attempt to replace blown fuses. Do not remove access panels. Return to certified mechanic for regular maintenance. Made in the USA.
4/3/06
3/20/06
back to b-6
Subject : Back to B-6
Posted Date: : Mar 20, 2006 9:11 AM
There is a problem in life. The problem is efficiency. The problem used to be time management.
The problem with my writing used to be that I spent the time I meant to spend free writing monitoring porn downloads instead. Hours upon hours spent, no, /wasted/ watching the gray progress bars of kazaa or the ugly greens of limewire fill up. Salivating for more material to bleed myself dry. Eventually I worked things out so that I would squirt some words between downloads, but even that only allowed for a few minutes of writing a day, because in order to keep the downloads coming you had to search for more and monitor the search window as well as the traffic. This inability to cope with having an erect penis used to destroy my time management.
Not anymore! Now I simply start up kazaa and let it work while I attempt to get my own work done. Therein lies the new problem of efficiency. Now that I've got everything parsed and on schedule the problem has been actually doing what I have alotted my time to do. For instance giving myself an hour to write means five minutes to start my laptop, two minutes to start kazaa, two minutes to find my music, three minutes to get out the power cable and ear phones, five minutes to check my inbox, five minutes to settle in and focus and then the reverse process at the end of the time alottment. Efficiency equals zero because half of the remaining time im adjusting the gadgets and cables and the other half im monitoring traffic to make sure i keep within bandwidth limits and then the other half of the time im distracting myself with the internets many goodies. The centerpiece of all of these problems has been trying to get the writing i want to do done on the laptop. Everything that slows me down is instantly identifiable as being connected to this accursed piece of hardware.
So Im going back to basics. I broke out my old notebook from sophmore year of college and im getting back to writing there instead of trying to use myspace as a way to force myself to write.
I think what i really wanted to say there was: instead of trying to use myspace as a way of forcing myself to write im going to force myself to write by writing. besides, the writing i want to do isn't even related to myspace in a positive way. you dont read blogs to hear poetry or little viniettes or scripts and the groups related to that kind of writing all suck, Ive finally realized, not necessarily because of their members, but because the kind of writing their trying to put into a classic forum format simply does not work.
So its back to basics for this cat. Or otter. Wet otter. Word.
Posted Date: : Mar 20, 2006 9:11 AM
There is a problem in life. The problem is efficiency. The problem used to be time management.
The problem with my writing used to be that I spent the time I meant to spend free writing monitoring porn downloads instead. Hours upon hours spent, no, /wasted/ watching the gray progress bars of kazaa or the ugly greens of limewire fill up. Salivating for more material to bleed myself dry. Eventually I worked things out so that I would squirt some words between downloads, but even that only allowed for a few minutes of writing a day, because in order to keep the downloads coming you had to search for more and monitor the search window as well as the traffic. This inability to cope with having an erect penis used to destroy my time management.
Not anymore! Now I simply start up kazaa and let it work while I attempt to get my own work done. Therein lies the new problem of efficiency. Now that I've got everything parsed and on schedule the problem has been actually doing what I have alotted my time to do. For instance giving myself an hour to write means five minutes to start my laptop, two minutes to start kazaa, two minutes to find my music, three minutes to get out the power cable and ear phones, five minutes to check my inbox, five minutes to settle in and focus and then the reverse process at the end of the time alottment. Efficiency equals zero because half of the remaining time im adjusting the gadgets and cables and the other half im monitoring traffic to make sure i keep within bandwidth limits and then the other half of the time im distracting myself with the internets many goodies. The centerpiece of all of these problems has been trying to get the writing i want to do done on the laptop. Everything that slows me down is instantly identifiable as being connected to this accursed piece of hardware.
So Im going back to basics. I broke out my old notebook from sophmore year of college and im getting back to writing there instead of trying to use myspace as a way to force myself to write.
I think what i really wanted to say there was: instead of trying to use myspace as a way of forcing myself to write im going to force myself to write by writing. besides, the writing i want to do isn't even related to myspace in a positive way. you dont read blogs to hear poetry or little viniettes or scripts and the groups related to that kind of writing all suck, Ive finally realized, not necessarily because of their members, but because the kind of writing their trying to put into a classic forum format simply does not work.
So its back to basics for this cat. Or otter. Wet otter. Word.
3/14/06
sorry, but not really 03/14/06
Subject : sorry, but not really
Posted Date: : Mar 14, 2006 1:50 PM
alright alright alright... so talking about tossing salad isnt the most pleasing of topics... so instead lets talk about commas.... those curly motherfuckers that lurk within so many sentences and make it difficult if not impossible to read anything coherrently.
well lets not. how about i just acknowledge that licking assholes is okay .001% of the time and leave it at that. don't agree with me? okay. im not going to try to convince you, but the seed is there... germinating.
Posted Date: : Mar 14, 2006 1:50 PM
alright alright alright... so talking about tossing salad isnt the most pleasing of topics... so instead lets talk about commas.... those curly motherfuckers that lurk within so many sentences and make it difficult if not impossible to read anything coherrently.
well lets not. how about i just acknowledge that licking assholes is okay .001% of the time and leave it at that. don't agree with me? okay. im not going to try to convince you, but the seed is there... germinating.
3/9/06
toss your salad for a quarter 03/09/06
Subject : toss your salad for a quarter
Posted Date: : Mar 9, 2006 9:05 PM
No really. I mean what if someone really said that to you, or me for that matter. What kind of a person would you want poking their face around that most intimate of intimate places. Seriously. Some people have no problem showing off their penis or vagina but the minute someone gets around the crap shoot the tenseness sets in and you could probably squeeze a "thigh master" completely shut between their cheeks. I don't think its so much that its a "dirty" thing to do. As long as the last delivery was made at least 4 hours prior and a shower featuring a full scrub down of every orifice was performed, I would be okay with it... since I scrub everyone of my orifices anyway I think I would probably give this mysterious salad tosser the okay to jump right in. But everyone isn't like me.
I think some people just have an intrisic fear of letting someone touch their most unmentionable of unmentionable bodily areas... which is understandable given the vulnerability involved with being naked, facing away from the action, unable to see whats going on, or who is doing what. There's also no way to anticipate that first moment of contact, and then you have to keep in mind the after effects of poop scenting especially if the proper precautions weren't followed. If someone doesn't want to put their lips on someone elses cowabunghole it probably means that don't want to put their lips on lips that have been on a cowabunghole. Even in the refferal to the region of thebody when people say ass they usually mean those lovely fleshly orbular things called buttcheeks.
ah well... at least i can rest in comfort knowing when that 60 year old vixen swoops out of her multi million dollar loft apartment and im hunkered down working at a coffee shop in the same city and she asks me to toss her salad for a quarter (and hopefully a lifetime of wealth from our subsequent relationship/black mailing) ill be able to stand tall and proud and say "would you like that with ranch, spicey italian, or cream sauce dressing?"
Posted Date: : Mar 9, 2006 9:05 PM
No really. I mean what if someone really said that to you, or me for that matter. What kind of a person would you want poking their face around that most intimate of intimate places. Seriously. Some people have no problem showing off their penis or vagina but the minute someone gets around the crap shoot the tenseness sets in and you could probably squeeze a "thigh master" completely shut between their cheeks. I don't think its so much that its a "dirty" thing to do. As long as the last delivery was made at least 4 hours prior and a shower featuring a full scrub down of every orifice was performed, I would be okay with it... since I scrub everyone of my orifices anyway I think I would probably give this mysterious salad tosser the okay to jump right in. But everyone isn't like me.
I think some people just have an intrisic fear of letting someone touch their most unmentionable of unmentionable bodily areas... which is understandable given the vulnerability involved with being naked, facing away from the action, unable to see whats going on, or who is doing what. There's also no way to anticipate that first moment of contact, and then you have to keep in mind the after effects of poop scenting especially if the proper precautions weren't followed. If someone doesn't want to put their lips on someone elses cowabunghole it probably means that don't want to put their lips on lips that have been on a cowabunghole. Even in the refferal to the region of thebody when people say ass they usually mean those lovely fleshly orbular things called buttcheeks.
ah well... at least i can rest in comfort knowing when that 60 year old vixen swoops out of her multi million dollar loft apartment and im hunkered down working at a coffee shop in the same city and she asks me to toss her salad for a quarter (and hopefully a lifetime of wealth from our subsequent relationship/black mailing) ill be able to stand tall and proud and say "would you like that with ranch, spicey italian, or cream sauce dressing?"
2/21/06
peak hours for strip clubs 02/21/06
Subject : peak hours for strip clubs
Posted Date: : Feb 21, 2006 8:02 PM
The question of the night: "are you going to stop?" Apparently not. My girlfriend and I were both passengers in a car with her roomate when my girlfriend notices a little ol' red light perched above the street at an intersection. Not only was the red light ignored, but her roomate slammed on the brakes bringing us to a complete stop directly in the middle of the intersection. If there were a prize for going 40 to zero and stopping your car on a bulls eye she would have won it hands down, no questions asked.
The worst thing about that night was not that we were all pretty fucking lucky there was no traffic in the crossing lanes. The worst thing was not that we were stopped dead in no mans land. The worst thing was not even that the sudden stop left all of us a little shaken up after packing our stomachs with F grade beef at taco bell. The worst thing about the whole incident was that I'd spent the seconds preceding the near death experience discussing why the stripper club we passed had no cars parked in front of it in the middle of the night when the dregs of society are supposed to be hustlin' and bustlin' and "gettin' they party on".
The logic I managed to come up with moments before peeing my pants was that sunday isn't the busiest day of the week so most people that would be there are probably regulars that walk there instead of people from out of town looking for a good time late at night. not that these people wouldnt go looking for a good time at taco bell like we did; just that these people with cars to be parked probably had jobs to go to early in the morning to pay for their cars.
The worst thing about the whole incident is that my last thought, had their been oncoming vehicles, would not have been of love or world peace or anything worth while... my last thought would have been dedicated to an analysis of peak hours for strip clubs.
Posted Date: : Feb 21, 2006 8:02 PM
The question of the night: "are you going to stop?" Apparently not. My girlfriend and I were both passengers in a car with her roomate when my girlfriend notices a little ol' red light perched above the street at an intersection. Not only was the red light ignored, but her roomate slammed on the brakes bringing us to a complete stop directly in the middle of the intersection. If there were a prize for going 40 to zero and stopping your car on a bulls eye she would have won it hands down, no questions asked.
The worst thing about that night was not that we were all pretty fucking lucky there was no traffic in the crossing lanes. The worst thing was not that we were stopped dead in no mans land. The worst thing was not even that the sudden stop left all of us a little shaken up after packing our stomachs with F grade beef at taco bell. The worst thing about the whole incident was that I'd spent the seconds preceding the near death experience discussing why the stripper club we passed had no cars parked in front of it in the middle of the night when the dregs of society are supposed to be hustlin' and bustlin' and "gettin' they party on".
The logic I managed to come up with moments before peeing my pants was that sunday isn't the busiest day of the week so most people that would be there are probably regulars that walk there instead of people from out of town looking for a good time late at night. not that these people wouldnt go looking for a good time at taco bell like we did; just that these people with cars to be parked probably had jobs to go to early in the morning to pay for their cars.
The worst thing about the whole incident is that my last thought, had their been oncoming vehicles, would not have been of love or world peace or anything worth while... my last thought would have been dedicated to an analysis of peak hours for strip clubs.
2/14/06
do i really want to be a writer? 02/14/06
Subject : do i really want to be a writer?
Posted Date: : Mar 14, 2006 3:20 PM
yes, more than anything in the world. i know ill find success eventually and i know that i have this inexplicable urge to write all of the time. I dont write as much as i probably should because i spend a chunk of time doing other things and another person (which is unfortunate at times, but i just haven't reached that level of eccentricity that would allow me to eshew everyone and everything that might stand in the way of writing eight hours a day, masturbating two hours a day, drinking six hours a day, and sleeping off the hangover and depression for the remaining eight).
wondering everyday about what i will or will not be able to do with my BA in creative writing, shoddy grades (almost across the board), and just about complete lack of experience in writing related fields outside of school, would probably result in me sitting down in the bathroom with a shotgun purchased at Wal-Mart. who's to say what the market is for BAs in CW. I mean, these degree programs exist all across the nation at both private and public instituations... is it designed for those kids with trust funds who don't need employment to support themselves? the people who can "afford" to be eccentric? Ill have to compete with them eventually and theyll have the advantage of little pressure from the day to day struggle of... wait a minute... this is sounding like another "haves and have-nots" rant.
Posted Date: : Mar 14, 2006 3:20 PM
yes, more than anything in the world. i know ill find success eventually and i know that i have this inexplicable urge to write all of the time. I dont write as much as i probably should because i spend a chunk of time doing other things and another person (which is unfortunate at times, but i just haven't reached that level of eccentricity that would allow me to eshew everyone and everything that might stand in the way of writing eight hours a day, masturbating two hours a day, drinking six hours a day, and sleeping off the hangover and depression for the remaining eight).
wondering everyday about what i will or will not be able to do with my BA in creative writing, shoddy grades (almost across the board), and just about complete lack of experience in writing related fields outside of school, would probably result in me sitting down in the bathroom with a shotgun purchased at Wal-Mart. who's to say what the market is for BAs in CW. I mean, these degree programs exist all across the nation at both private and public instituations... is it designed for those kids with trust funds who don't need employment to support themselves? the people who can "afford" to be eccentric? Ill have to compete with them eventually and theyll have the advantage of little pressure from the day to day struggle of... wait a minute... this is sounding like another "haves and have-nots" rant.
i do really want to be a writer and it does worry me a little bit from time to time... but if i didnt want to be a writer im pretty sure i would drop out and become a serial killer prostitute whose MO involved shotguns, natty light, and ass licking.
obsessing.
2/8/06
why i hate myspace writers 02/08/06
Subject : Why I hate Myspace Writers
Posted Date: : Feb 8, 2006 4:37 PM
on second thought... i dont mind having to click through five levels of bullshit to get to the writing communities.... the REAL issue here is that none of the writers or at least only a select handful of them are actually worth associating with. fuck 'em, they all suck.
there's nothing wrong with being a self styled writer. what makes it wrong as all hell is when someone proclaims themself a writer and all they do is churn out whatever is bubbling on top of their brain without giving it a second thought. i cant count how many times ive asked people if they ever revise and the answer comes back "i revise as i write." what the fuck does that mean! does that mean they never have to do second drafts because its always perfect word for word as it hits the page. jeeeeezus, i hate hobbyist writers because they make career writers that havent made it yet look like assholes. perfectionist, arrogant assholes. which is untrue for at least half of us.
gah!!!! think about it... if you found a way to eliminate every hobbyist and aching heart pre puber and old ass retired wench knob with too much time on his/her hands and an internet connection, you would thin the field down immediately to college students, career writers, and thinking adolescents. this would, over night, eliminate 1599 of the 1605 groups and would improve the quality, be it a niche group or a broad multi-topical group, of the remaining 6 groups drastically.
so fuck 'em. fuck all of them dabblers and shit scrawlers. someone should just hand them a stick and point them to a hole in the ground full of feces and tell them to stir, because thats all they do when they think they're "contributing." theyre just stirring around the same pot of used up pointless crap the person immediately before them shat out in a different color and texture with the words "comments please," or "first post, be nice" or "suggestions welcome."
The second worst part to all of this is the fucking encouragement loop these dabblers have going. when someone writes shit i call it what it is because they need to know that publishing something to the community means that youve done some work on it and its not just a spray of mucus from a brain sneeze that happend the night before. what the dabblers do however is discredit everything i say by immediately patting their fellow/fellette on the back and saying things like "great job", "i really loved that one", "good metaphor." FUCKING SHIT FACE. stop enabling the bastards and lay down some laws of what it means to be a writer!!! shits gotta stop somewhere.
what i hate the most about myspace is the piss poor quality of the writing groups, what i hate second most are the pointless bits of encouragement that keep them going, revolving doors of no talent hacks and their no talent hack readers.
Posted Date: : Feb 8, 2006 4:37 PM
on second thought... i dont mind having to click through five levels of bullshit to get to the writing communities.... the REAL issue here is that none of the writers or at least only a select handful of them are actually worth associating with. fuck 'em, they all suck.
there's nothing wrong with being a self styled writer. what makes it wrong as all hell is when someone proclaims themself a writer and all they do is churn out whatever is bubbling on top of their brain without giving it a second thought. i cant count how many times ive asked people if they ever revise and the answer comes back "i revise as i write." what the fuck does that mean! does that mean they never have to do second drafts because its always perfect word for word as it hits the page. jeeeeezus, i hate hobbyist writers because they make career writers that havent made it yet look like assholes. perfectionist, arrogant assholes. which is untrue for at least half of us.
gah!!!! think about it... if you found a way to eliminate every hobbyist and aching heart pre puber and old ass retired wench knob with too much time on his/her hands and an internet connection, you would thin the field down immediately to college students, career writers, and thinking adolescents. this would, over night, eliminate 1599 of the 1605 groups and would improve the quality, be it a niche group or a broad multi-topical group, of the remaining 6 groups drastically.
so fuck 'em. fuck all of them dabblers and shit scrawlers. someone should just hand them a stick and point them to a hole in the ground full of feces and tell them to stir, because thats all they do when they think they're "contributing." theyre just stirring around the same pot of used up pointless crap the person immediately before them shat out in a different color and texture with the words "comments please," or "first post, be nice" or "suggestions welcome."
The second worst part to all of this is the fucking encouragement loop these dabblers have going. when someone writes shit i call it what it is because they need to know that publishing something to the community means that youve done some work on it and its not just a spray of mucus from a brain sneeze that happend the night before. what the dabblers do however is discredit everything i say by immediately patting their fellow/fellette on the back and saying things like "great job", "i really loved that one", "good metaphor." FUCKING SHIT FACE. stop enabling the bastards and lay down some laws of what it means to be a writer!!! shits gotta stop somewhere.
what i hate the most about myspace is the piss poor quality of the writing groups, what i hate second most are the pointless bits of encouragement that keep them going, revolving doors of no talent hacks and their no talent hack readers.
taint working 02/08/06
Subject : taint working
Posted Date: : Feb 8, 2006 4:17 PM
taking an online information design course has taught me one thing... i need to figure out how to edit the code for myspace pages without using one of those retarded ass prepackaged editors because the results are gay. well not gay in the sense of something being homosexual but gay in the .... well fuck, you know what i mean so fuck you. alls im saying is that it taint working out being here. i need more... plus i hate having to click through three and four and fuckin five levels just to get to the writing communities...
maybe ill just go and join the circus and have one suicide act that ill be famous for... or maybe ill just aspire to get a perfect score in pacman. speaking of which it has been discovered that pacman has been played more than 10 billion times around the world and a perfect score has only been achieved ONCE. how's that for hardest game ever created candidate. even harder than super starwars for the snes (which was, if you ask me, just a shitty game to begin with. bankrupt in both character and game play.)
speaking of bankrupt... my relationship is not bankrupt! its just reached a critical mass where it needs to cool off and depressurize to remain productive, fruitful, sexful and functional or chernobylize and take a hundred thousand innocent bystanders with it in a white hot flash of .... whatever it is volatile relationships are made of (probably pheromones, good intentions, and 151).
in summation.... isn't it time you masturbated today?
Posted Date: : Feb 8, 2006 4:17 PM
taking an online information design course has taught me one thing... i need to figure out how to edit the code for myspace pages without using one of those retarded ass prepackaged editors because the results are gay. well not gay in the sense of something being homosexual but gay in the .... well fuck, you know what i mean so fuck you. alls im saying is that it taint working out being here. i need more... plus i hate having to click through three and four and fuckin five levels just to get to the writing communities...
maybe ill just go and join the circus and have one suicide act that ill be famous for... or maybe ill just aspire to get a perfect score in pacman. speaking of which it has been discovered that pacman has been played more than 10 billion times around the world and a perfect score has only been achieved ONCE. how's that for hardest game ever created candidate. even harder than super starwars for the snes (which was, if you ask me, just a shitty game to begin with. bankrupt in both character and game play.)
speaking of bankrupt... my relationship is not bankrupt! its just reached a critical mass where it needs to cool off and depressurize to remain productive, fruitful, sexful and functional or chernobylize and take a hundred thousand innocent bystanders with it in a white hot flash of .... whatever it is volatile relationships are made of (probably pheromones, good intentions, and 151).
in summation.... isn't it time you masturbated today?
2/7/06
blood and chocolate 02/07/06
Subject : blood and chocolate
Posted Date: : Feb 7, 2006 5:19 PM
I believe my weekend can be summed up in the condition of my sneakers. They are still clean and white in some places, muddy in others, but of most important notice is the chocolate on the toe of one and the blood on the toe of the other.
The swing arm of my life is at a point such that I can experience the sweetness of everything zen one evening, followed by pointless violence the next. What makes it all the more frustrating is that it is simply a result of not seeing eye to eye on a few key points. Two to be exact. When my girlfriend and I do see eye to eye, or more importantly don't have to see eye to eye on these two points everything is perfect. These two points are completely contingent on college life and will cease to exist as soon as college ends, so what gives? Can we meet halfway? I'm pretty sure we can except that for 90 percent of the time I'm covering 89 percent of the ground; love makes people do crazy things.
If I could describe being in love in three words those words would be "blood and chocolate." I wouldn't really give this up to aspire towards finding my niche in the kept man market, but if blood and chocolate turns into just blood after college, at least I know I can do other things, unlike pocket solar powered calculators.
<3<3<3
Posted Date: : Feb 7, 2006 5:19 PM
I believe my weekend can be summed up in the condition of my sneakers. They are still clean and white in some places, muddy in others, but of most important notice is the chocolate on the toe of one and the blood on the toe of the other.
The swing arm of my life is at a point such that I can experience the sweetness of everything zen one evening, followed by pointless violence the next. What makes it all the more frustrating is that it is simply a result of not seeing eye to eye on a few key points. Two to be exact. When my girlfriend and I do see eye to eye, or more importantly don't have to see eye to eye on these two points everything is perfect. These two points are completely contingent on college life and will cease to exist as soon as college ends, so what gives? Can we meet halfway? I'm pretty sure we can except that for 90 percent of the time I'm covering 89 percent of the ground; love makes people do crazy things.
If I could describe being in love in three words those words would be "blood and chocolate." I wouldn't really give this up to aspire towards finding my niche in the kept man market, but if blood and chocolate turns into just blood after college, at least I know I can do other things, unlike pocket solar powered calculators.
<3<3<3
2/3/06
out of the loopC----> * 02/03/06
Subject : out of the loop C ----> *
Posted Date: : Feb 3, 2006 3:39 PM
Having successfully roused from sleep I proceed to play some tunes to get the ol energy thing going and I instantly realized I hadnt touched a new album or artist in the past YEAR. It was then that I immediately deduced that I was not only listening to the same things again and again, but that I was now incapable of obtaining new music. Not for lack of desire, but for lack of the ability to identify any new music or new artist at work today, right this minute. I'm out of the loop. Way, way waaaaay out of the loop. I don't even know where to start looking for new music anymore, and I don't want to become one of those amazon groupies who looks for music guides put together by other people. That's it then. That's what's so scary about being in this situation. I've lost my musical identity and in my vulnerable state it's too easy to simply adopt someone elses. Identity.
Maybe this fear runs deeper than music. Maybe I've always been afraid of losing my individuality and thus have always pushed others away who had strong personalities of thier own until I could fully establish my own personality. Maybe on some level everyone is afraid of losing their identity and act to protect it with behavior that appears irrationally fearful of something not directly connected to their original fear.
Posted Date: : Feb 3, 2006 3:39 PM
Having successfully roused from sleep I proceed to play some tunes to get the ol energy thing going and I instantly realized I hadnt touched a new album or artist in the past YEAR. It was then that I immediately deduced that I was not only listening to the same things again and again, but that I was now incapable of obtaining new music. Not for lack of desire, but for lack of the ability to identify any new music or new artist at work today, right this minute. I'm out of the loop. Way, way waaaaay out of the loop. I don't even know where to start looking for new music anymore, and I don't want to become one of those amazon groupies who looks for music guides put together by other people. That's it then. That's what's so scary about being in this situation. I've lost my musical identity and in my vulnerable state it's too easy to simply adopt someone elses. Identity.
Maybe this fear runs deeper than music. Maybe I've always been afraid of losing my individuality and thus have always pushed others away who had strong personalities of thier own until I could fully establish my own personality. Maybe on some level everyone is afraid of losing their identity and act to protect it with behavior that appears irrationally fearful of something not directly connected to their original fear.
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