Westcustogo Publishing House:
Journal of a Drunken Paratrooper.

The Journal of a Drunken Paratrooper.

[Editor's note: A new introduction to the journal written September 26, 1968.]

INTRODUCTION



I am one person that should not trouble the world with an autobiography. In fact, I will not be a merchandiser of such a sorry story. Yet it is written and there is little that I can do with it. I don't want to destroy it and I don't want to read it, edit it, or revise it. Therefore, I wish to clarify a little of it.

My autobiography represents a search. It really starts the day that I asked the question, “Why?” I have found answers and I have stuck with one of those answers, however, it is difficult to do even this. I cannot stay on track, so my search is a continuing matter.

I must say that I have been lost. I have really been lost. There have been times when I did not know why I was alive. I have had too many dilemmas of purpose. And I have never been decisive regarding a career decision. I have barely existed at various times. I have lived a life full of spiritual sickness. And even today I don't have my beliefs locked in to any religious movement. But I no longer consider myself fundamentally lost. I realize that I cannot live just to take care for myself and that I must give of myself as much as possible. But this giving is not a traditional habit with me and it is difficult to follow. Especially when I've never tried to exert my full energies.

This fundamental belief, that I must give, is my philosophy for living, but it took me a very long time to find it. At that time, I became a “born again” Christian and I went overboard until I finally repudiated Christianity. At this time now, I am just getting back to the fundamental teaching, but I don't classify myself as a practicing Christian. I can't believe in a living God.

I must return to the beginning in order to explain who I am.

I grew up in a very secure home in a small town. In fact, I was so comfortable that I never questioned life. I seldom questioned any such thing. Everything was provided and would continue to be provided. I was a dreamer. I was lost in dreamland for too much of my life. Therefore, I never learned much about how to cope with my social environment. I never developed any equipment or talents to help me in our world, either. Living is not easy for me, for I don't know how to go about much of it.

I do harbor ambitions, but I've never revealed any accomplishments to exhibit this. Instead I've accepted more failures than successes. My ambitions can more easily be characterized as illusions of grandeur, for this is certainly what many of them are.

There is a disparity between certain truths of real working functioning life and of my illusions of how easy it is to attain in the world. Even now, I am just beginning to learn some of life's truths that were known to my classmates back in early school days. Even with such new knowledge it is not easy to put it into practice. For example, it is not easy to break old habits and form new habits. For me it is nearly impossible. Yet I am trying to wake up, I am trying extra hard to learn. Still, knowledge is only a temporary thing with me and must be re-learned and re-learned over and over again.

I sometimes feel very sorry for myself to be so late and inadequate in learning the lessons of life. Why couldn't I have had more coaching? Certainly you can see why this autobiography that I am in possession of is so bad.



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