Mum and dads selling IMO. Small parcels worried at the price...

Mum and dads selling IMO. Small parcels worried at the price dropping.

Last year I bought a stock at 30c, it ran to 80c then fell back quickly, I had a forgotten about stop loss at 41c, panic set in on the stock and my SL was hit.
I started buying again at 40c, the company project had winner written all over it when they could eventually overcome some corporate issues. They did and now trade at a $1.40-$1.68 range and will be more in the next 6mths,12mths & 2 years. I've never used a stop loss since.

Ive learned to somewhat block out the noise on stocks now, it could be ignorance or nonchalance!
Glad I was able to sleep through the 'noise' on SGQ this morning after nightshift.

A literary example of a generation or two, the likes of which we will never see again springs to mind.

'If'
By Rudyard Kipling:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too.
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster,
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make a heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And—which is more—you'll be a Man, my son!