Anxiety

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  I opened my eyes wider. “On Elmwood Avenue? She’s that close?” “Damn you,” Edna repeated as she stormed out of the bathroom. Frankie and Grant left Jan and I alone, facing each other. “Kid, I think you’d better leave right now, Jan muttered through clenched teeth. “Tm not a kid anymore,” I told her as I pushed 2 my way out the door. I felt connected to the Triumph as I turned sharply into the curves of the expressway. An old power flowed through me. That exhilaration drained the moment I cut the engine in the parking lot of the asylum. I took off my helmet and looked up at the medieval building. Every window was latticed with iron bars. A cold shiver ran though me. But I wanted to see Al more than I wanted to run away. I'd spent a long, sleepless night in the back seat of Esperanza’s car, parked on the street across from Jan and Edna’s shop. All night long I thought about what I wanted to tell Al. But while I was going through visitor intake I panicked because I couldn’t remember what Pd wanted to say. I kept coming back to two simple things I’d never said out loud to her: Thank you and I love you. As an elevator door opened, I tried to recall what floor the guard told me. Sixth Floor—it was printed in bold letters on the big plastic visitor’s ID I'd been given at some point in this process. “Are you related?” I blinked. A nurse addressed the question to me. I was standing at the nurse’s station. It was time to pay attention. “Her nephew,” I answered. She looked at charts I couldn’t see. “Hmm,” she said. “T haven’t seen my aunt for a long time,” I made Stone Butch Blues 311 small talk nervously. “Is she well?” The nurse looked at me over her spectacles. “T mean ...” I quit talking. “I’m afraid she’s in therapy,’ the nurse concluded. “TI don’t know who arranged your visit, but it won’t be possible today.” All the color rose in my face. “I have to see her today.” The nurse took off her spectacles and put one end near her lips. “Why is thatr”’ For a moment I was afraid if I showed them how upset I really was they might have the power to keep me here too. “T flew here just for this visit. It was arranged with her family, my family. I have to fly back to be at my job. I haven’t seen my aunt for a long time. ’m afraid she might die without me ever having seen her again. You see, it’s very important to me.” The nurse was taken aback. She looked around. “Can't I wait while she’s in therapy? How long could it be? An hour? Fifty minutes?” “She’s in physical therapy, Mr... . umm.”

• From The History of Christianity II: From the Reformation to the Modern Megachurch (2017)

  43Lecture 5—The Catholic Reformation õ When the council finally convened at Trent, in northern Italy, in 1545, Paul wanted to settle doctrinal issues first. In response to the Protestant assertion that religious authority lay in scripture alone, the council insisted that there were two sources of divine revelation: the Bible and tradition. õ Furthermore, the Council of Trent affirmed that the Catholic Church had sole authority to interpret the meaning of scripture. As to Martin Luther’s claim that Christians were saved by God’s grace alone, rather than by good deeds: The bishops at Trent tried to steer a middle way that said yes, salvation happens by God’s grace, but there is a role for human free will too. õ The bishops were under a lot of pressure. In early 1547, the plague broke out in Trent, so they voted to move the council south to Bologna. Another factor: Trent was too close to the strongholds of the Holy Roman Emperor Charles V, who was busy crushing various Protestant princes and strengthening his control over German lands. õ In September of 1547, the emperor plotted with the governor of Milan to have the pope’s son murdered. Charles wanted to send a clear message: He should have control over the council and the church’s response to the Protestant revolt. The pope was in a tough spot, so finally he decided to suspend the council indefinitely, and it was still up in the air when he died in 1549. õ The next pope lasted just a few years, and the one after that died just a few weeks after his election. Squabbling between the emperor and various bishops kept the council on hold. Then, in 1555, the cardinals put the 79-year-old Gian Pietro Carafa in charge. õ Carafa took the name Paul IV, but this did not mean that he was cut from the same cloth as the reformer Paul III. Paul IV didn’t like the idea of a council making important decisions about church doctrine and policy, so he made no move to reconvene the Council of Trent.

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  “Teddy, this way!” I yelled. “No, it’s a dead end!” “We can get through! Follow me!” He didn’t. I turned and ran into the dead end. Teddy broke the other way. Half the mall cops followed him, half followed me. I got to the fence and knew exactly how to squirm through. Head, then shoulder, one leg, then twist, then the other leg—done. I was through. The guards hit the fence behind me and couldn’t follow. I ran across the field to a fence on the far side, popped through there, and then I was right on the road, three blocks from my house. I slipped my hands into my pockets and casually walked home, another harmless pedestrian out for a stroll. Once I got back to my house I waited for Teddy. He didn’t show up. I waited thirty minutes, forty minutes, an hour. No Teddy. Fuck. I ran to Teddy’s house in Linksfield. No Teddy. Monday morning I went to school. Still no Teddy. Fuck. Now I was worried. After school I went home and checked at my house again, nothing. Teddy’s house again, nothing. Then I ran back home. An hour later Teddy’s parents showed up. My mom greeted them at the door. “Teddy’s been arrested for shoplifting,” they said. Fuuuck. I eavesdropped on their whole conversation from the other room. From the start my mom was certain I was involved. “Well, where was Trevor?” she asked. “Teddy said he wasn’t with Trevor,” they said. My mom was skeptical. “Hmm. Are you sure Trevor wasn’t involved?” “No, apparently not. The cops said there was another kid, but he got away.” “So it was Trevor.” “No, we asked Teddy, and he said it wasn’t Trevor. He said it was some other kid.” “Huh…okay.” My mom called me in. “Do you know about this thing?” “What thing?” “Teddy was caught shoplifting.” “Whhaaat?” I played dumb. “Noooo. That’s crazy. I can’t believe it. Teddy? No.” “Where were you?” my mom asked. “I was at home.” “But you’re always with Teddy.” I shrugged. “Not on this occasion, I suppose.” For a moment my mom thought she’d caught me red-handed, but Teddy’d given me a solid alibi. I went back to my room, thinking I was in the clear. — The next day I was in class and my name was called over the PA system. “Trevor Noah, report to the principal’s office.” All the kids were like, “Ooooohhh.” The announcements could be heard in every classroom, so now, collectively, the whole school knew I was in trouble. I got up and walked to the office and waited anxiously on an uncomfortable wooden bench outside the door.

• From Born a Crime: Stories from a South African Childhood (2016)

  Abie was charming and hilarious and had an easy, gracious smile. He loved helping people, too, especially anyone in distress. If someone’s car broke down on the freeway, he pulled over to see what he could do. If someone yelled “Stop, thief!” he was the guy who gave chase. The old lady next door needed help moving boxes? He’s that guy. He liked to be liked by the world, which made his abuse even harder to deal with. Because if you think someone is a monster and the whole world says he’s a saint, you begin to think that you’re the bad person. It must be my fault this is happening is the only conclusion you can draw, because why are you the only one receiving his wrath? Abel was always cool with me. He wasn’t trying to be my dad, and my dad was still in my life, so I wasn’t looking for anyone to replace him. That’s mom’s cool friend is how I thought of him. He started coming out to stay with us in Eden Park. Some nights he’d want us to crash with him at his converted garage flat in Orange Grove, which we did. Then I burned down the white people’s house, and that was the end of that. From then on we lived together in Eden Park. One night my mom and I were at a prayer meeting and she took me aside. “Hey,” she said. “I want to tell you something. Abel and I are going to get married.” Instinctively, without even thinking, I said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I wasn’t upset or anything. I just had a sense about the guy, an intuition. I’d felt it even before the mulberry tree. That night hadn’t changed my feelings toward Abel; it had only shown me, in flesh and blood, what he was capable of. “I understand that it’s hard,” she said. “I understand that you don’t want a new dad.” “No,” I said. “It’s not that. I like Abel. I like him a lot. But you shouldn’t marry him.” I didn’t know the word “sinister” then, but if I had I probably would have used it. “There’s just something not right about him. I don’t trust him. I don’t think he’s a good person.” I’d always been fine with my mom dating this guy, but I’d never considered the possibility of him becoming a permanent addition to our family. I enjoyed being with Abel the same way I enjoyed playing with a tiger cub the first time I went to a tiger sanctuary: I liked it, I had fun with it, but I never thought about bringing it home. If there was any doubt about Abel, the truth was right there in front of us all along, in his name.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  Objection 5: Further, “That which is instituted for the sake of charity, does not militate against charity,” as Bernard observes (De Praecept. et Dispens. ii). Now confession, which was instituted for the sake of charity, would militate against charity, if a man were bound to confess to any particular priest: e.g. if the sinner know that his own priest is a heretic, or a man of evil influence, or weak and prone to the very sin that he wishes to confess to him, or reasonably suspected of breaking the seal of confession, or if the penitent has to confess a sin committed against his confessor. Therefore it seems that one need not always confess to one’s own priest. Objection 6: Further, men should not be straitened in matters necessary for salvation, lest they be hindered in the way of salvation. But it seems a great inconvenience to be bound of necessity to confess to one particular man, and many might be hindered from going to confession, through either fear, shame, or something else of the kind. Therefore, since confession is necessary for salvation, men should not be straitened, as apparently they would be, by having to confess to their own priest. On the contrary, stands a decree of Pope Innocent III in the Fourth Lateran Council (Can. 21), who appointed “all of either sex to confess once a year to their own priest.” Further, as a bishop is to his diocese, so is a priest to his parish. Now it is unlawful, according to canon law (Can. Nullus primas ix[4845], Q[2]; Can. Si quis episcoporum xvi[4846], Q[5]), for a bishop to exercise the episcopal office in another diocese. Therefore it is not lawful for one priest to hear the confession of another’s parishioner.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  AUGUSTINE. (Quæst. Ev. i. 22.) Or the fire pertains to anger, which aims upwards, water to the lusts of the flesh. ORIGEN. Of the changefulness of the sinner it is said, The fool changes as the moon. (Ecclus. 27:12.) We may see sometimes that an impulse towards good works comes over such, when, lo! again as by a sudden seizure of a spirit they are laid hold of by their passions, and fall from that good state in which they were supposed to stand. Perhaps his father stands for the Angel to whom was allotted the care of this lunatic, praying the Physician of souls, that He would set free his son, who could not be delivered from his suffering by the simple word of Christ’s disciples, because as a deaf person he cannot receive their instruction, and therefore he needs Christ’s word, that henceforth he may not act without reason. 17:19–2119. Then came the disciples to Jesus apart, and said, Why could not we cast him out? 20. And Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief: for verily I say unto you, If ye have faith as a grain of mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove hence to yonder place; and it shall remove; and nothing shall be impossible unto you. 21. Howbeit this kind goeth not out but by prayer and fasting. CHRYSOSTOM. The disciples had received from the Lord the power over unclean spirits, and when they could not heal the dæmoniac thus brought to them, they seem to have had misgivings lest they had forfeited the grace once given to them; hence their question. And they ask it apart, not out of shame, but because of the unspeakable matter of which they were to ask. Jesus said unto them, Because of your unbelief. HILARY. The Apostles had believed, yet their faith was imperfect; while the Lord tarried in the mount, and they abode below with the multitude, then faith had become stagnant. CHRYSOSTOM. Whence it is plain that the disciples’ faith was grown weak, yet not all, for those pillars were there, Peter, and James, and John. JEROME. This is what the Lord says in another place, Whatsoever ye shall ask in my name believing, ye shall receive. (John 16:23.) Therefore when we receive not, it is not the weakness of Him that gives, but the fault of them that ask. Mat. 21:22.)

• From Best Erotic Romance

  He snorted. “I like prizes.” “Do you save the guests, or your kids?” “Maybe I save the adults, and they help me save my kids.” “But what if you head for the basement, and the fire spreads beyond control. You manage to get the adult guests out, but at what cost?” “Well, me and the guests line up by the kids’ windows and have them jump into our arms.” “Your kids are twenty-two and nineteen respectively, and owing to your big-boned wife tip the scales at 270 pounds each.” Dave howled a deep laugh that nearly shook Sarah’s eardrums loose. Amidst laughs he said. “Well, I’m pretty strong.” “Y’all ain’t that strong.” She conjured a convincing drawl. “Of course I’d save my kids.” “I knew it!” “Don’t be so smug.” Dave looked into the side mirror. “Goddamn. I hate that. Pardon my cursing.” “I heard worse. What’s wrong?” “Guy’s drafting.” “Drafting?” “Yeah, they get up real close and the draft from the trailer pulls them along. Makes me nervous as hell.” Sarah looked away. “Don’t tell me you do that.” She shrugged. “You know what happens if I gotta stop quick? I saw it happen to another trucker on the road to Stockton. Bigger car than yours, and it wasn’t just the driver of the car. She had her...” Dave bit his lip hard. “There was a kid.” He looked away and wiped each cheek with his thumb. “I—I’m sorry.” She patted his shoulder. “Just don’t draft, Sarah.” Sarah curled her legs toward him while he studied the mirror. “Okay.” He reached toward the shifter, and his fingers grazed Sarah’s bare knee. His hand jerked back. “Pardon.” “For what?” “Your leg. I mean, it’s a fine...it’s, uh, real smooth and all. But I didn’t mean to...aw hell.” That wonderful color lit up his full cheeks. He turned back to the mirror and upshifted until the car appeared from the void behind the truck and passed him. “It’s okay.” Sarah edged a little closer to him. Her knee pressed his hip. Dave squeezed the gearshift tightly. After a long silence, Sarah resumed, “I think we’re spending too much time worrying about other people’s gardens. Not tending to our own.” Dave sighed. “Yeah, I can see you draftin’ out there on the highway.” “Bet you think women should be seen, not heard.” “No, I just don’t see things the same.” “Really?” A hint of sarcasm. Dave studied the road closely. “You ask a man who’s been in hell if he’s happy to be in a garden with a few weeds, he’s libel to say a big ‘yes.’” “What hell have you been in, Dave?” “It’s just an observation. More repartee.” “It’s more than that.” Sarah rested her hand on the top of the seat just behind Dave’s shoulder. “You have a nice face.” Dave blushed deeply and looked away.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  He leaned forward. “It’s too fucking weird working nights in a plant with no windows. You could come out in the morning and find out there’s been a nuclear meltdown and you never knew it.” Jim laughed. “Well, if you see the sun rising in the west, come back and tell the rest of us, OK?” Jim sighed. “I know what you mean, though. I remember one time I came out of work at dawn and there was two feet of snow on the ground. I didn’t even know it was going to snow. I felt like I missed something the whole rest of the world saw and I was somewhere else,” “Tt’s like working in a fucking submarine,” Bill agreed. “You know what I hate the most?” Jim continued. “I get so disoriented about which is today and when is tomorrow. When I get up at night to go to work, my girlfriend says she’ll see me tomorrow. But for me, ’'m going to see her later today.” I nodded. “I know exactly what you mean. I feel like ’m living between the cracks of today and tomorrow.” “Ooh,” Bill said, “T like that. Can I quote you?” We all laughed. “You know what I really hate about shift work?” I said. ““The way the whole world is geared to first shift. When I get off work I don’t want bacon and eggs. I want steak and baked potato. I want dinner!” “Yeah,” Jim chimed in. “And I want to see a movie.” “And go dancing with my old lady at a club so wild it stays open past noon,” Bill said. “And when I turn on TV,’ I added, “I don’t want to see game shows and soap operas—it’s depressing.” “Hey, guy,” Bill said. “Why don’t you come to the gym with us in the morning? We go swimming right after work. They got a steam room, too. We can get you in on a pass.” It sounded like heaven, but I fumbled for an excuse. “I don’t have a swimsuit or towel or anything, Maybe another time.” Jim cut me off. “They got towels there. Hell, they wouldn’t care if you swim naked.” I shook my head. “I knew I shouldn’t have worn my Fred Flintstone boxer shorts today.” The guys laughed. “Another time. But thanks for the offer.” Bill shrugged. “Suit yourself.” During the summer I made a list of things Id like to accomplish: join a gym, find out more about my aunt who had been a union organizer, and have my picture taken in front of the Stonewall bar where the rebellion took place in 1969. After visiting a lot of gyms I found one in Chelsea that felt comfortable. It was mostly gay men, some lesbians, different nationalities. It was expensive, but the nice thing about having a decent-paying job most of the year was it meant I could join.

• From Stone Butch Blues (1993)

  seen it before. The cafeteria was absolutely, right down the middle, segregated. “Get the picture, honey? Where you been?” “Can I sit with you anyway?” Karla tilted her head back and narrowed her eyes at me. “It’s a free country,” she said as she turned on her heel and walked away. “Hello, white girl! You new in town?” Darnell teased as he moved over to let me sit down next to Karla. I laughed. There was no other sound in the huge room. You could’ve heard a pin drop. My stomach tightened, and the food on my plate looked more disgusting than usual. “Karla,” I sat down next to her. “I really need to talk to you, really bad.” “Uh-oh,” someone whispered at our table. Mrs. Benson was racing toward our table. “Young lady, what are you doing?” I took a deep breath. “Pm eating lunch, Mrs. Benson.” Everyone at the table tried to stifle giggles, but when milk sprayed out of Darnell’s nose, well, it just couldn’t be controlled. “Come with me, young lady,’ Mrs. Benson told me. “Why?” I wanted to know. “I didn’t do anything,” She stormed away. “That was easy,” Darnell said. “Too easy,” Karla answered. “Karla, I really need to talk to you,” I told her. “Uh-oh,” Darryl said, “here comes Jim Crow.” Actually, his name was Moriarty. The coach was headed right for me. I was waiting for him to say something to me, but he didn’t. He grabbed me by the arms, digging his fingers into my flesh. Moriarty half dragged me to the door of the cafeteria. “You little slut,’ he whispered. “Tl take care of this, Coach.” Miss Moore, the assistant principal, intervened. She put her arm around me and led me out into the hall. “Child,’ she said, “you are in a whole lot of trouble. What the hell were you doing?” “Nothing, Miss Moote. I didn’t do anything. I was just trying to talk to Karla.” She smiled at me. “Sometimes you don’t have to do anything wrong to be in hot water.” All of my panic and fear welled up in my eyes. I wanted so badly to open up to Miss Moore. “Honey, it’s not all that bad,” she reassured me. I couldn’t speak. “Are you OK, Jess? Are you in trouble?” She looked at my swollen lip; no one else had noticed. “Do you want to talk, Jess?” I did want to talk. But my mouth wouldn’t move. “Here’s the other troublemaker,’ Moriarty said. He had Karla in his grip. Miss Moore pulled Karla close to her. “Tl take cate of this, Coach. You go back to being lunch monitor.” He looked at her with open hatred. I could see what a racist he was. “C’mon girls.” Miss Moore put her arm around each of us. “T’ll explain to the principal that you didn’t mean any harm.”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  ourselves. It is always the other who is belligerent, who starts things, who is aggressive. This is a profound misconception of human nature. Aggression is a tendency that is latent in every single human individual. It is a tendency wired into our species. We became the preeminent animal on this planet precisely because of our aggressive energy, supplemented by our intelligence and cunning. We cannot separate this aggressiveness from the way we attack problems, alter the environment to make our lives easier, fight injustice, or create anything on a large scale. The Latin root of the word aggression means “to step forward,” and when we assert ourselves in this world and try to create or change anything, we are tapping into this energy. Aggression can serve positive purposes. At the same time, under certain circumstances, this energy can push us into antisocial behavior, into grabbing too much or pushing people around. These positive and negative aspects are two sides of the same coin. And although some individuals are clearly more aggressive than others, all of us are capable of slipping into that negative side. There is a continuum of human aggression, and we are all on the spectrum. Being unaware of our true nature causes us many problems. We can turn aggressive in the negative sense without realizing what is happening, and then pay the consequences for going too far. Or, feeling uncomfortable with our own assertive impulses and knowing the trouble they can stir, we might try to repress our aggressiveness and appear to be paragons of humility and goodness, only to become more passive-aggressive in our behavior. This energy cannot be denied or repressed; it will emerge in some way. But with awareness, we can begin to control and channel it for productive and positive purposes. To do so, we must understand the source of all human aggression, how it turns negative, and why some people become more aggressive than others. The Source of Human Aggression Unlike any other animal, we humans are aware of our own mortality, and that we could die at any moment. Consciously and unconsciously this thought haunts us throughout our lives. We are aware that our position in life is never secure—we can lose our job, our social status, and our money, often for reasons beyond our control. The people around us are equally unpredictable—we can never read their thoughts, anticipate their actions, or totally rely on their support. We are dependent on others, who often don’t come through. We have certain innate desires for love, excitement, and stimulation, and it is often beyond our control to satisfy these desires in the way we would like. In addition, we all have certain insecurities that stem from wounds in our childhood. If events or people trigger these insecurities and reopen old wounds, we feel particularly vulnerable and weak. What this means is that we humans are continually plagued by feelings of helplessness that come from many sources. If this feeling

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Terry shook his head, not looking at her as he sorted through the stack of papers beside the phone. Kim watched him, unsure what to say. She couldn’t say everything would be okay, because she didn’t know that it would. She couldn’t tell him not to be scared, because she was too. She lowered her head with a frown, suspecting again that the demon Terry was wrestling went deeper than those things. Something in him questioned more than the situational concerns, more than what would happen. It wasn’t questioning circumstances or emotions or outcomes. It was questioning him. Kim set the head of lettuce she had pulled from the refrigerator down and walked over to her husband. He looked up as she fixed her dark eyes on his. Kim almost flinched at the hollow look she saw there, but she straightened herself tall, ready to tell the part of him she knew was saying those things to him to fuck off. She took a deep breath and opened her mouth. “I love you.” It wasn’t at all what she had expected to say, but neither her posture nor her gaze wavered. Terry’s eyes looked dull, though they stayed on hers. “I love you too.” His gaze slid away then, back to the papers on the counter in front of him. Kim let her breath out silently as Terry turned and wandered back to the living room. Reaching to straighten the pile of papers he had been examining, she returned to the counter and picked up the head of lettuce. It felt heavy in her hands. Thanks to her internal alarm clock, Kim woke up around the time she wanted to on Saturday morning. She glanced at Terry to make sure he was still asleep and eased out of bed, tying her short red satin robe around herself as she padded down the stairs. Terry had been without a job for three weeks, and his general state seemed even more lackluster than the professional prospects he’d found. Kim was well aware that her husband’s résumé was exemplary—highly educated, experienced, and commended, he had demonstrated unquestionable competence and even superiority in his field. The present job market was responsible for the dearth of opportunities, which was the reason he was unemployed in the first place. She opened the refrigerator and grabbed two eggs, setting them on the spotless counter. All that seemed to have been forgotten by Terry. Whenever she reminded him of either his own competence or the influence of the larger economic environment, it was as though the words dissolved in the air before they ever reached his consciousness.

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  will be able to shape your own values and ideas and not be such a product of the times. With your awareness of the overall zeitgeist, you will also understand the historical context. You will have a sense of where the world is headed. You can anticipate what is around the corner. With such knowledge, you can bring your own individual spirit into play and help shape this future that is gestating in the present. And feeling deeply connected to the unbroken chain of history, and your role in this grand historical drama, will infuse you with a calmness that will make everything in life more bearable. You do not overreact at the outrage of the day. You do not go gaga over the latest trend. You are aware of the pattern that will tend to swing things in a different direction within a period of time. If you feel out of harmony with the times, you know that the bad days will end and you can play your part in making the next wave happen. Keep in mind that this knowledge is more critical to posses now than ever, for two reasons. First, despite any antiglobal sentiments sweeping the world, technology and social media have unified us in inalterable ways. This means that people of one generation will often have more in common with those of the same generation in other cultures than with older generations in their own country. This unprecedented state of affairs means that the zeitgeist is more directly globalized than ever before, making knowledge of it that much more essential and powerful. And second, because of these sharp changes initiated by technological innovations, the pace has quickened, creating a self- fulfilling dynamic. Young people feel almost addicted to this pace and crave more shifts, even if of a trivial nature. With the quickening pace there are more crises, which only speeds up the process. This pace will tend to make you get dizzy and lose your perspective. You might imagine some trivial shift as groundbreaking and will thus ignore the real groundbreaking change under way. You will not be able to keep up, let alone anticipate what might come next. Only your generational awareness, your calm historical perspective, will allow you to master such times. Strategies for Exploiting the Spirit of the Times To make the most of the zeitgeist, you must begin with a simple premise: you are a product of the times as much as anyone; the generation you were born into has shaped your thoughts and values, whether you are aware of this or not. And so, if you feel from deep within some frustration with the way things are in the world or with the older generation, or if you sense there is something that is missing in the culture, you can be almost certain that other people of your generation are feeling the same way. And if you are the one to

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  And so the quest is endless and exhausting. And since the connection to their work is not personal, such people become alienated from themselves; the pursuit feels soulless; they are workaholics without a true calling. They may become depressed or manic, and they will often lose what they have gained if they become manic enough. We all know the effects of “hyperintention”: If we want and need desperately to sleep, we are less likely to fall asleep. If we absolutely must give the best talk possible at some conference, we become hyperanxious about the result, and the performance suffers. If we desperately need to find an intimate partner or make friends, we are more likely to push them away. If instead we relax and focus on other things, we are more likely to fall asleep or give a great talk or charm people. The most pleasurable things in life occur as a result of something not directly intended and expected. When we try to manufacture happy moments, they tend to disappoint us. The same goes for the dogged pursuit of money and success. Many of the most successful, famous, and wealthy individuals do not begin with an obsession with money and status. One prime example would be Steve Jobs, who amassed quite a fortune in his relatively short life. He actually cared very little for material possessions. His singular focus was on creating the best and most original designs, and when he did so, good fortune followed him. Concentrate on maintaining a high sense of purpose, and the success will flow to you naturally. Attention: People have always pursued fame and attention as a way to feel enlarged and more important. They become dependent on the number of people applauding, the size of the army they command, the crowd of courtiers that serve them. But this false sense of purpose has become greatly democratized and widespread through social media. Now almost any one of us can have the quantity of attention that past kings and conquerors could only dream about. Our self-image and self-esteem become tied to the attention we receive on a daily basis. In social media, this often requires becoming increasingly outrageous to capture eyeballs. It is an exhausting and alienating quest, as we become more of a clown than anything else. And each moment that the attention ebbs ever so slightly, a gnawing pain eats away at us: Are we losing it? Who is siphoning off the flow of attention that was ours?

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Keep in touch, and if there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” She paused. Kim could picture Maria’s blue eyes shining with sincerity, delicate features emanating concern. “As you may know, Drake’s not altogether certain about his job either at this point. Anyway, feel free to give me a call, Kim. Take care.” Kim sighed. She remembered the first time she’d met Maria, the wife of her husband’s colleague—former colleague now —Drake, several years ago at the company’s annual gala. “Oh my god—your husband looks exactly like Denzel Washington!” had been one of the first things Maria had ever said to her, after their husbands were whisked away for an informal conference immediately following their introduction. She’d giggled, hiccupping a bit as she turned wide eyes back to Kim. “I hope you don’t mind my saying that.” Kim had laughed. She’d liked Maria immediately, charmed by the bubbling spunk that seemed somewhat spurred by the glasses of white wine that occupied the petite woman’s hand most of the evening. She knew what Maria meant, of course, was that she hoped Kim didn’t mind that she had just spent the last several seconds ogling her husband. Kim didn’t mind, and she’d given Maria a wink as she answered, “I know.” Writing herself a note to call Maria, Kim stuck the Post-it near the phone and turned to unload the bags on the counter. It was Tuesday. The news had come a week ago the previous Friday, when Terry had gone to work as usual with no wisp of an idea that he would return home a few hours later without a job. The layoff was a surprise to individual employees, but it was not surprising in the face of the current economy. Kim hadn’t panicked—it wasn’t her style—but the effect it had on Terry was dramatic. She suspected it was more than concern about their financial well-being. Losing the job he had worked so hard at to make his way to second-tier management hurt something inside him. Something he had taken for granted, that external circumstances had allowed to be latent. If Kim was right, though, it wasn’t about anything external. She felt her stomach tighten as she put away the groceries. The financial implications, of course, would soon make themselves known. They would be okay for this month, and probably the next. After that was uncertain. Her own catering business, which she ran from home, had been affected by the economy as well. Though it had been fairly successful in its three-year life, it wasn’t enough to support them both. Kim pulled open the refrigerator door, her ebony ringlets swaying like silent wind chimes in the reflection of its gleaming surface.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  She shuddered as she contemplated the well-kicked-in door. Paradise it wasn’t, but she’d already decided she was going through with it. Her date had been very specific about the place she was to meet him, and she didn’t want to fuck this up. Time was too precious. Just the thought of seeing him was already making her heart race, and her body tighten in the most intimate of places. The door was pushed open and a blast of beer-laden air and the thump of a jukebox hit her in the face. Two guys walked past and gave her the once-over. One of them winked, but she was way too wound up to flirt. She clutched her black purse. Would he care about that? What exactly was he expecting her to do tonight? She should have learned never to make promises when she was drunk. Doubt clouded her bravado, and she almost turned back. Someone came up behind her and she found herself walking forward into the noisy crush of people enjoying their Saturday night. Immediately she looked around for him, but there were several guys wearing cowboy hats, and some of them even looked like the genuine article with scuffed boots, Wrangler jeans, and faces lined from staring into the sun. The floor was made of wide planks, and despite the sign, the décor was definitely more western than Caribbean. The jukebox started up, and Jodi had to move to one side to avoid the crush of people who wanted to join the line dancing. She looked down at her open-toe sandals and brand-new red pedicure and winced at the thought of a heavy boot stomping on her delicate toes. But he’d told her what he wanted her to wear, and she’d followed his instructions to the letter. Silky red tank top, short denim skirt, and thong underwear, also red and lacy, and currently damp with anticipation. She skirted the line dancers and headed toward the bar that was situated against the back wall. The six bar stools covered in cracked black leatherette were all occupied except the one nearest her. Jodi hesitated for a second, and the cowboy sitting closest swung around to stare at her. She almost swallowed her tongue as she recognized her date for the night. His sky-blue eyes were narrowed and focused on her; his smile was slow in coming and full of dark promise. “There’s a seat free here.” “Thanks.” Jodi hopped up onto the stool, hiking her skirt up to accommodate the stiffness of the denim. His gaze settled on her exposed thighs, and she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. Were they supposed to be strangers, then? Was this how he wanted to play it tonight? She gathered her courage. “Would you like a drink?” He considered her for a long moment. “You’re buying?” She shrugged and the thin strap of her top fell down her arm. “It’s the twenty-first century. We’re supposed to be equal now.”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  action and making your knowledge of them more conscious: Why do they exist? What do they say about the group? Gaining a deeper appreciation of the culture and codes will make it much easier to navigate the social space and maintain a degree of detachment. You will not try to change what cannot be changed. When it comes to the inevitable factions that emerge, it is better to keep yourself unaligned and let others fight over you. You do not need to belong to a faction to derive a narcissistic boost. What you want within the group is strategic options and room to maneuver, to have many allies and widen your power base. Your goal in this second task is to maintain as tight a grip on reality as possible. Groups tend to share beliefs and ways of looking at the world that are one-sided. They give greater weight to information that fits into their preconceived notions. They exaggerate qualities of rivals or enemies. They become overoptimistic about their plans. Taken far enough, the group can hold beliefs that are quite delusionary, and its actions can border on madness. Observing the group with a degree of distance will help you be aware of the distorting effect on your perception that can come from being so embedded within a group. Your strategies and decisions will be all the more effective for this. Just as groups tend to exert a downward pull on our emotions and behavior, we can also experience or imagine the opposite—a group that exerts an upward pull. We shall call this ideal the reality group. It consists of members who feel free to contribute their diverse opinions, whose minds are open, and whose focus is on getting work done and cooperating on a high level. By maintaining your individual spirit and your grip on reality, you will help create or enrich this ideal team of people. (For more on this, see “The Reality Group” on this page .) This ability to observe the group and detach ourselves is more critical now than ever for several reasons. In the past, people’s sense of belonging to certain groups was more stable and secure. To be a Baptist or a Catholic or a communist or a French citizen provided one with a strong sense of identity and pride. With the diminishing power of these large-scale belief systems, we have lost this inner security, and yet we retain the same profound human need to belong. So many of us are searching for groups to join, hungry for the approval of others who share our values. We are more permeable than ever. This makes us eager to become a member of the latest cult or political movement. It makes us highly susceptible to the influence of some unscrupulous populist leader who preys upon this need. Instead of forming large-scale groups, we now form tribes of diminishing size, to get a greater narcissistic boost. We view larger

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  alive to the moment. Try to see people as they interact with others besides you—people are often very different depending on the person they are involved with. Try to focus not on categories but on the feeling tone and mood that people evoke in you, which is continually shifting. As you get better at this, you will discover more and more cues that people give as to their psychology. You will notice more. Continually mix the visceral with the analytic. Seeing improvement in your skill level will excite you greatly and motivate you to go deeper. In general you will notice a smoother ride through life, as you avoid unnecessary conflicts and misunderstandings. The deepest principle of Human Nature is the craving to be appreciated. —Wil iam James Four Examples of Narcissistic Types 1. The Complete Control Narcissist. When most people first met Joseph Stalin (1879–1953) in the early part of his reign as premier of the Soviet Union, they found him surprisingly charming. Although older than most of his lieutenants, he encouraged them all to address him with the familiar “you” form in Russian. He made himself completely accessible even to junior officials. When he listened to you, it was with such intensity and interest, his eyes boring into you. He seemed to pick up your deepest thoughts and doubts. But his greatest trait was to make you feel important and part of the inner circle of revolutionaries. He would put his arm around you as he accompanied you out of his office, always ending the meeting on an intimate note. As one young man later wrote, people who saw him were “anxious to see him again,” because “he created a sense that there was now a bond that linked them forever.” Sometimes he would turn slightly aloof, and it would drive his courtiers crazy. Then the mood would pass, and they would bask again in his affection. Part of his charm lay in the fact that he epitomized the revolution. He was a man of the people, rough and a bit rude but someone an average Russian could identify with. And more than anything, Joseph Stalin could be quite entertaining. He loved to sing and to tell earthy jokes. With these qualities it was no wonder that he slowly amassed power and assumed complete control of the Soviet machinery. But as the years wore on and his power grew, another side to his character slowly leaked out. The apparent friendliness was not as simple as it had seemed. Perhaps the first significant sign of this among his inner circle was the fate of Sergey Kirov, a powerful member of the Politburo and, since the suicide of Stalin’s wife in 1932, his closest friend and confidant. Kirov was an enthusiastic, somewhat simple man who made friends easily and had a way of comforting Stalin. But Kirov was starting to become a little too popular. In 1934, several regional leaders approached him with an offer: they were tired of Stalin’s

• From Best Erotic Romance

  Dave howled a deep laugh that nearly shook Sarah’s eardrums loose. Amidst laughs he said. “Well, I’m pretty strong.” “Y’all ain’t that strong.” She conjured a convincing drawl. “Of course I’d save my kids.” “I knew it!” “Don’t be so smug.” Dave looked into the side mirror. “Goddamn. I hate that. Pardon my cursing.” “I heard worse. What’s wrong?” “Guy’s drafting.” “Drafting?” “Yeah, they get up real close and the draft from the trailer pulls them along. Makes me nervous as hell.” Sarah looked away. “Don’t tell me you do that.” She shrugged. “You know what happens if I gotta stop quick? I saw it happen to another trucker on the road to Stockton. Bigger car than yours, and it wasn’t just the driver of the car. She had her...” Dave bit his lip hard. “There was a kid.” He looked away and wiped each cheek with his thumb. “I—I’m sorry.” She patted his shoulder. “Just don’t draft, Sarah.” Sarah curled her legs toward him while he studied the mirror. “Okay.” He reached toward the shifter, and his fingers grazed Sarah’s bare knee. His hand jerked back. “Pardon.” “For what?” “Your leg. I mean, it’s a fine…it’s, uh, real smooth and all. But I didn’t mean to…aw hell.” That wonderful color lit up his full cheeks. He turned back to the mirror and upshifted until the car appeared from the void behind the truck and passed him. “It’s okay.” Sarah edged a little closer to him. Her knee pressed his hip. Dave squeezed the gearshift tightly. After a long silence, Sarah resumed, “I think we’re spending too much time worrying about other people’s gardens. Not tending to our own.” Dave sighed. “Yeah, I can see you draftin’ out there on the highway.” “Bet you think women should be seen, not heard.” “No, I just don’t see things the same.” “Really?” A hint of sarcasm. Dave studied the road closely. “You ask a man who’s been in hell if he’s happy to be in a garden with a few weeds, he’s libel to say a big ‘yes.’” “What hell have you been in, Dave?” “It’s just an observation. More repartee.” “It’s more than that.” Sarah rested her hand on the top of the seat just behind Dave’s shoulder. “You have a nice face.” Dave blushed deeply and looked away. Sarah grinned. “And you gave me a hard time for covering my smile. You’re a traditional man.” “You ’spose?” “Can’t you give a straight answer?” “You didn’t ask a question.” “No, I guess I didn’t.”

• From The Laws of Human Nature (2018)

  and this disconnect from reality is the source of the bad decisions and negative patterns that haunt your life. Rationality is the ability to counteract these emotional effects, to think instead of react, to open your mind to what is really happening, as opposed to what you are feeling. It does not come naturally; it is a power we must cultivate, but in doing so we realize our greatest potential. The Inner Athena One day toward the end of the year 432 BC, the citizens of Athens received some very disturbing news: representatives from the city- state of Sparta had arrived in town and presented to the Athenian governing council new terms of peace. If Athens did not agree to these terms, then Sparta would declare war. Sparta was Athens’s archenemy and in many ways its polar opposite. Athens led a league of democratic states in the region, while Sparta led a confederation of oligarchies, known as the Peloponnesians. Athens depended on its navy and on its wealth—it was the preeminent commercial power in the Mediterranean. Sparta depended on its army. It was a total military state. Up until then, the two powers had largely avoided a direct war because the consequences could be devastating—not only could the defeated side lose its influence in the region, but its whole way of life could be put in jeopardy—certainly for Athens its democracy and its wealth. Now, however, war seemed inevitable and a sense of impending doom quickly settled on the city. A few days later, the Athenian Assembly met on the Pnyx Hill overlooking the Acropolis to debate the Spartan ultimatum and decide what to do. The Assembly was open to all male citizens, and on that day close to ten thousand of them crowded on the hill to participate in the debate. The hawks among them were in a state of great agitation—Athens should seize the initiative and attack Sparta first, they said. Others reminded them that in a land battle the Spartan forces were nearly unbeatable. Attacking Sparta in this way would play straight into their hands. The doves were all in favor of accepting the peace terms, but as many pointed out, that would only show fear and embolden the Spartans. It would only give them more time to enlarge their army. Back and forth went the debate, with emotions getting heated, people shouting, and no satisfactory solution in sight. Then toward the end of the afternoon, the crowd suddenly grew quiet as a familiar figure stepped forward to address the Assembly. This was Pericles, the elder statesman of Athenian politics, now over sixty years old. Pericles was beloved, and his opinion would matter more than anyone’s, but despite the Athenians’ respect for him, they found him a very peculiar leader—more of a philosopher than a politician. To those old enough to remember the start of his career, it was truly surprising how powerful and successful he had become. He did nothing the usual way.

• From Best Erotic Romance

  The ladies were on their second pitcher of sangria when her college roommate, Ashlyn, started in on the topic of married sex. “Wedding nights sure aren’t what they used to be. Sean and I were so exhausted after all the festivities, he could barely haul me over the threshold of the honeymoon suite, and then we both fell fast asleep on this great big fancy bed. Of course, the morning after was all the better since we were so well rested. I love daytime sex, but sometimes I wonder if the nap afterward isn’t the best part.” The other women, all except Sophie, chuckled knowingly. Nina, her best friend all through high school, leaned close. “Sex definitely loses its edge once it’s legal, but Jasper and I try to get away for the weekend once a month or so. Then I pretend we’re having an illicit affair, and we don’t get out of bed until we’re chased from the room by the maid.” The other women exchanged sly glances and murmured approval. “You definitely have to work to keep things spicy,” her friend Megan added. “But I really like the closeness, too. Marriage really changed things with Brian. It’s funny but we can get buzzed just lying in each other’s arms and planning home improvements.” “The real change comes after you have kids. We don’t do it nearly as often, and we have to be very quiet, but our bond is deeper, more spiritual,” added her other college friend, Jenny. Sophie’s older sister, Elena, nodded and smiled. Sophie, who had been pleasantly buzzed from the wine until a moment before, slumped down in her chair. “Tell me the truth. Am I giving up hot sex forever by marrying Justin?” “Justin’s a great guy, Sophie, you definitely want a commitment so he doesn’t slip away,” Ashlyn said, her expression solemn. “And there’s more to your relationship than sex, right?” At the time Sophie nodded. Of course there was more to their relationship. They made each other laugh. He cooked a delicious pasta primavera. And there was no place she’d rather be after a rough day at the office than enfolded in his arms. But would any of that have the same glow without frequent refuelings of wild, wet, and very satisfying copulation? Such thoughts still troubled her as she lay beside her boyfriend, the end of their wonderful sex life just hours away. As if he somehow sensed her doubts, Justin’s eyes fluttered open. He smiled and slipped an arm around her. She snuggled against him, her head resting against his shoulder, their legs tangled together like his signature linguine.