Date: 2008-04-02 11:58 Subject: Some people are just born bad. I know I was. Security: Public

Nature versus Nurture. Good versus Evil. Between psychology and religion you can fill entire libraries on the subject. While no one can deny that we all have the capacity for both and that our actions on any given day can slide up and down that slippery scale, I really believe that underneath it all, we are what we are. Sometimes it's good. Sometimes it's not. Some people are just born bad.

Everyone has a choice on how they choose to act. We come across 1000 different forks in the road every day. What should I say to this? How should I react to that? What are these choices based on? Do we really each have an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other? Do we follow the morality our parents try to instill in us? Do we make "good" choices because we're good people deep down, or is it only because we fear some sort of reprisal, like going to jail or hell or losing our friends/family/loved ones?

Is a person good or evil based on their choices and actions, or because of who they are in their heart?

I don't think people can tell you what type of person you are, because they really don't know. I don't think the person you "want" to be factors in either. A death row inmate can "want" to be a saint, but wanting doesn't count for shit. I think that the answer can only be found inside our individual gut reactions. That first, basic instinct that kicks in when we're confronted with a choice.

I know if my own life I've wrestled with this over and over again. Time and time again though, I come to a conclusion and a fact that I just have to accept. Deep down, I'm just no good.

I've been thinking about it recently, mainly because of this Amy Winehouse song, specifically the chorus.



I cheated myself
Like I knew I would
I told ya, I was trouble
Ya know that I'm no good

The rest of lyrics may not mean much to me, but these lines for me are so familiar. They serve not only as an "I told you so" to not only whoever else is listening, but also to the person saying them. It's just this matter of fact acceptance of the the way this person is. Kind of like saying, you can pretend and try and work as hard as you want, but under it all you know the kind of person you are and what you are capable of.

For example, I was always a rotten child. My Mother called it being "into everything". I was that kid who got in trouble again and again, and when I was confronted about it and asked why I did the things I did I would just say "I dunno. It seemed like a good idea at the time." The sad thing is that, out of all the crap I pulled as a kid, I probably only got caught for about 10% of it - if that. And the times I did get caught and had to say I was sorry, the only thing I was really sorry for was getting caught. When I was asked if I "learned my lesson", I could honestly always say yes, I had. I learned not to get caught next time. I can look back on my childhood and I can point out things that were stupid to do, but I have a really hard time thinking of one thing I truly felt remorse for.

This kind of behavior only intensified as a teenager. Certainly my experiences with sex, drugs and alcohol weren't based on peer pressure or idle curiosity. I knew what I wanted to do and I made choices to do them based on my instincts. Even my temper was ruled by that instinct. I was never that guy in high school that talked big and got into 10 minute pushing and yelling matches in the halls with someone, and then threatened to "kick their ass" at some later date and time. If I wanted to punch someone, I just did it right there on the spot without saying a word. I didn't think about getting in trouble. I didn't think about the right or wrong of it. I didn't *think* at all. That's the whole point.

I remember once when I was a sophomore I was dating a girl who was a senior. She wasn't anything particularly special, but she was attractive and fun enough to spend time with. I remember that she kept having trouble with our Varsity quarterback. You know the type? The jock who dogs on the smart chick in front of his friends, but who really just wants to fuck her, and because he doesn't have the guts to act on it or because he gets shot down, he turns into an asshole?

Well at some point she got tired of it and told me about it. I remember going up to him between classes one day and just point blank telling him to back off and leave her alone. I was always a big kid, but I was never the biggest or strongest and this guy was larger than I was. Not only that but he was surrounded by a few of his football buddies who were bigger than he was. He laughed at first and informed me in so many words that he and his friends would beat the shit out of me. And they easily could have. It isn't like I was an ultimate badass or anything. I remember shrugging and just telling him that it was ok, I'd just come back again tomorrow... and the day after that, and the day after that. I remember saying that he could kick my ass 99 times and it wouldn't matter to me. I had nothing to lose. But on that 100th time, if I got him down, I would hurt him in ways that would make even catching a football hard again - not to mention trying to actually throw one. The thing was, I wasn't talking shit. I wasn't acting tough. I didn't give a shit about the consequences. I was willing to push it past a limit he was willing to go, and we both knew it - right there in that moment. I walked off and he never said so much as "hi" to her again.

I never really ran into anything in high school like that I couldn't handle, either with my wits or my fists. Now I am not saying I never had my ass kicked. I have, and I deserved it each and every time. (I personally believe every guy should have his ass kicked at least once just to knock the chip off their shoulder.) But for the most part no one messed with me. I wasn't the biggest or strongest or best. I was just the meanest. It wasn't based on a choice. It was just who I was underneath.

Ok, so just so you don't think that I mean good or evil is all about being some macho punk or acting like a badass or something, let me share another personal story.

My Grandmother died of cancer when I was 18. I loved my Grandmother. She helped raise my sister and I after my Mother divorced our Dad, and continued to play a huge part in our lives even after my Mother remarried. She was a great lady. I could spend hours talking about why and still not cover the half of it. I mention it only to illustrate how much she meant to me.

Now a few weeks earlier I had split up with this girl I had been dating. We were complete opposites, and it was the smart thing to do. The only thing I would miss about her honestly was the sex, which even for my novice teenage self, had been pretty damn good. She was a pretty girl with a great body and large breasts, so yeah, on that level alone she'd be missed. We were barely on speaking terms at the time, but she found out about the funeral and came to pay her respects.

So here I am at the funeral, surrounded by friends, immediate family and the kind of extended family that only comes out of the woodwork when someone dies. I feel like shit for obvious reasons, but I am also kind of pissed off. Pissed that a lot these people with their sad little half-smiles and encouraging words are just so insincere, at least from where I am sitting. Where were all these people during her cancer treatments? Where were they in the last few months and weeks she had before she died? I'd have traded any 10 of them just to have my Grandmother back for another 10 to 20 years. Fuck them.

And then there is this girl there, and she's honestly sad and actually trying to be a good person and say a couple nice things to comfort me even though we're split up. My Mother is a wreck. I mean in a state of complete anguish and emotional breakdown. I know I should feel worse for her than I do myself, but my heart isn't working right. I'm listening to the sermon, and I should be crying - I should be feeling something - but instead I catch myself sliding my hand over to this girl's lap where she takes my hand to squeeze it. Pretty soon all I can do is think about how hot she looks in her black dress and stockings.

Ten minutes later, the sermon concludes and everyone is lining up for a tenth round of sympathy exchanges and I just can't fucking handle it. A better person would be overwhelmed with grief. A better son would stay by his Mother's side and be strong for her. A better guy would realize that this girl is probably in a vulnerable state because she still cares for me and she thinks "I" am the vulnerable one. That guy would do the right thing and just thank her for coming and hug her and say goodbye. But not me. For some reason, I look at this like the perfect opportunity to drown my sorrows, so to speak, and get laid. Which I do. Two hours later she is dropping me off at my car in the church parking lot and we never speak again.

What can I say? I know that story makes me a complete bastard; cold and heartless. I knew then, just as I have always known, what the right thing was to do when given a choice. I chose to do the wrong thing instead. I chose to go with my instinct. The sad thing is that I wish I felt bad about it. Even now looking back I can't seem to "feel" much of anything. I won't stress over it because it's long gone, and because I just know the kind of person I am.

I cheated myself
Like I knew I would
I told ya, I was trouble
Ya know that I'm no good

Luckily for me, even the rotten apples can still act like good people if they choose to. It just takes work. I find that being good is vastly harder than being bad. Being bad is just so much more fun in the short term, but being good has a lot more rewards in the long term. Rewards like lasting friendships and relationships, something I never really experienced earlier in life and that I am happy to have now. I think I can honestly say that everything good I have in my life is there because I went *against* my nature instead of embracing it.

I still have that same inner voice I always have, and I certainly don't need encouragement or temptation to be bad. There is a saying I heard... "Water water everywhere and every chance to sink". That is probably a very simple, yet eloquent way to put it. But these days I think about the consequences of my instincts before I act on them. I try to be nice. I try to be patient. I try to care. I try to think... "What would a good person do?".

I may never totally be "good", but maybe if I try to act like it long enough, some of it will rub off on me.