On anxiety, luck, and the bottomless pit


I titled this entry like that because it makes me feel like I am some kind of Aristotle like philosopher. When, in reality, I am but the same person you have always known and, as such, I am dumb.

Anyway, have you ever known anyone who just seemed, despite all else, to be the luckiest person in all of existance? Of course, we all know of someone. Maybe you're friends with them, or maybe you have never even personally met, but you know of them and their lucky ways. It really makes you wonder why some people seem to have everything in their life fall into their lap while others get shot outside of the gas station filling up with unleaded. Neither of these individuals have done anything thing particulary wrong nor are they bad people, but life has dealt each of these individuals a different hand.

Being dealt a different hand is not something I have a problem with. I know we all have been on the receiving end of differening experiences in life and thus are the victim or victor of certain circumstance. I do have a problem with those people, however, who are seemingly playing with a stacked deck. Those people who wake up in a nice house next to someone they love, go to a job they enjoy, bend over to tie their shoe and find the winning lottery ticket, then come home and go to sleep feeling fulfilled and loved.

What have they done to have things so easy? Surely they put in a lot of work and effort to get to this point. No, no they did not. At least, not usually. There are stories of people who have pulled themselves up by their boot straps and made a great life for themselves. I applaud those people. I'm talking about the people who have everything handed to them their entire lives and continue to do so. Everything is easy. Everything isn't easy, and I have millions of people who live in this world to back up that statement.

I've been dealing with a lot of anxiety and stress as of late. I remember when I used to be funny and this was the fun and fancy free blog, but all of the sudden it has gotten entirely too heavy and I apologize for that. Let me talk to the otter, we'll work something out.

Dropping bombs on your moms.

Update
I was notified today that I'm being given the chance to get interviewed by a local high school for a position next week. I am very excited and I hope all goes well.

I have no idea why. Perhaps the understanding that I am an self important asshole would contribute to the fact that I am creating this post with no intention or merit behind my words. While not atypical, you'd think I would have better things to do with my time that just pontificate nonsense.

Perhaps it is my simple lack of motivation. That would, indeed, make planty of sense as to why I am doing this instead of the many other, more important things that I really need to be doing at this point and time.

Then again, I guess that is the point of the otter blog. Nothing I've ever said on here has been of any real merit. It's been all making fun of people, brooding over girls and love lost, and waxing bullshit on whatever psuedo issue pops into my head.

The otter isn't perfect, that's why he's emmaculate instead of immaculate. It's deep and that makes me smart or something.

For all the ones I have loved before.

Life is funny like that. To bring back memories of someone you haven't seen in about 6 years and bringing them back in such a way that you think about it on at least a semi regular basis.

Yeah, it happens and it happened to me. I knew a girl in high school. Then, she was about the cutest, nicest girl I have ever met, and she still is. As high school does to people, we graduated and went our sperate ways. Since that moment she hadn't crossed my mind, at least not until about three months ago. Since that time, I asked a friend, who just so happens to be dating her sister, how she was doing. An innocent question with no intent given, really I was just interested. We were all mutual friends in high school.

She is perfect. She was then, and, come to find out, she is now. It's not as much as I would like to find out where she is and we'll live our lives together in bliss, but rather I would just like to see her again and let her know how I feel. Feelings which I forgot I had. I know, I know, emo as fuck, but whatever. Perhaps, one day if it is meant to be, our paths will cross again. For now, however, she will just be on my mind, from time to time.

As far as the job hunt goes, no bites yet. I really need something so I'll keep working at it. Perhaps I fear it but that's another blog for another day.

The quest begins...NOW!


It has come to my attention that, now that I have finished college, I must start looking for a real job. OK, I'll play your little "look for a career" game, not like I have anything better to do.

I've got a BA in History from a fairly major university. If I wanted something based on my degree, my choices are really limited. I could either teach, write books, or be on of those historians talking shit about Hitler on the history channel. Did you know that Hitler liked to do Eva Braun doggy style? Neither did he, I just made that up. He seemed like a guy who would like to hit it from the back, gripped tight on those hips though. All I need now is to wear my glasses low on my nose and forge some sort of intimidating facial hair and I'm on easy street.

Writing a book would be a possibility, but that isn't a full time job. I need some benefits and shit. I don't have any health insurance right now so if I were to be stricken with vasculitis or, god forbid, lupus, I would be fucked. No matter how many pages I can write about the US Civil War, or how eloquently I can pontificate over draft riots, it won't save my body from the rigors of disease. It's never vasculitis but it's always lupus so it's really a crap shoot there.

So, it looks like I'm left to teaching. I can do that, I guess. I know my stuff, and I'm working my way in one step at a time. At least I would know better than to fill the children's heads with such silliness as hope and dreams. A special shout out to the state of North Carolina for making lateral entry so difficult. You guys rule. You're a true American hero, you probably drive a Ford truck, we all really love your stories, I hope you find true love.

When it all comes down to it though, I'm open to pretty much anything. I want a decent salary, benefits, and a little bit of a creative outlet. That's all I'm really looking for in a job. If you have one to give me, I'd be willing to entertain offers.

Put your arms around me, I'm feeling on your booty.

Ah yes, old friend, how long has it been? Musing and ranting about everything and nothing at all is apparently quite a chore since I can only bring myself to do it about every 3-6 months or so now.

I was just thinking and began to wonder whether or not the internet would like to have such thoughts for it to hold and offer to posterity the wonder of me making a complete ass of myself on a daily basis.

What was I thinking about, you may ask? I was thinking about happiness, what it means and what we pretend it means. There are plenty of e-philosophers who pontificate on such a subject daily, whether it be on their own blogs, message boards, or personal websites. I'm no different from them, and being in such unison I figure I can go ahead and add my pitance to the meaningless pot.

Happiness is, simply put, achieving what you desire. Everyone on this planet has wants and needs, regardless of culture, class or situation, to have them met is to be happy. However, I believe that our desires go out beyond the realm of actuality and find themselves rooted in mere possibility. Possibility without probability is hopeless and is where sadness lies. If a loved one passes on, our desires are to have them still alive with us. Since we cannot have what we desire, we become sad. Or, even worse, we being to fear the inevitability of not achieving our desires.

While happiness is a physical manifestation, desire is a social construct. While every person's happiness, or lack thereof, comes from their desires, everyone possesses different desires.

This all seems simple enough. In all actuality, it is. However it's something you don't think about on a constant basis, lest ye be damned. I always seem to get like this around this time of the year. You know, I read that scientists have done a study and named January 24th the most depressing day of the year. I understand where they're coming from there. The Christmas bills come pouring in, it's getting colder outside Valentine's day shit starts showing up in stores, as we well know Valentine's Day is a holiday created by greeting card companies to make people feel like shit, and we just shot our New Year's Resolutions all to hell.

Yeah, it's about that time.