Some Thoughts on Life:

1. I'm not very good at being landlocked. For some reason, not living next to the ocean adds unnecessary stress to my life.

2. As I mention frequently, I'm not very good with living in deserts. Normally I attribute my dislike of deserts to the heat (because that's primarily where my dislike arises from), but I think, at times, it has also has a lot to do with the lack of constantly being surrounded by a forest. Forests are as important to me as cool weather, overcast skies, oceans, and seagulls.

3. I don't think girls fully appreciate how hard it is for a guy to get a girl to talk to him, by herself, so that he can ask her on a date without the unnecessary pressure (that would be put on her) of him asking her in front of other people.

4. I'm pretty sure every time I've ever asked a girl (who I was actually interested in at the time) on a date, I knew (beforehand) that she wasn't interested in me.

5. I'm also pretty sure that I have 25 years worth of poop jokes pent up inside of me, as I was far too mature of a kid to ever tell them when it would have been age appropriate. Instead, as 25 year old, I find myself telling poop jokes whenever somebody else, legitimately (and lightheartedly), brings up topic.

Journal Writing:

I decided a few months ago that I needed to start writing (for myself) more. So far, I've actually done quite well. I've been, somewhat, regularly been writing in my journal, writing essays (that I typically post on facebook) and even forced myself to post a few blog entries.

Though my blogging, as usual, has proven to be less than impressive, I'm actually rather proud of myself for finally getting back in the habit of writing in a (physical) journal--as well as with the quality of what I've been writing everywhere except on my blogs. No, that doesn't particularly help anybody who happens to read this particular post. But, it is what it is.

You are missing out, though. Sorry.

The Fray:

As I near my 25th birthday--amidst the mounting stress of getting my butt kicked both by school and by life--I am reminded that despondency is entirely unbecoming of a person anywhere near my age (a lesson I learned many years ago).

Yet, nearing my 25th birthday--and, having both school and life thoroughly kicking butt--I find myself ever more aware of the reality that as one ages, he only becomes more justified in being despondent.

Being fully aware of my own inadequacies and  my lack of control over entire facets of my life, it's not a matter of bucking up and working for the life I want. The life I "want" (i.e., a life with a lower butt-kicking to rewards ratio) cannot be worked for. The only way to increase the rewards of life through one's own efforts is to voluntarily expose oneself to more butt kicking (thus, having no real effect on the actual ratio of butt-kicking to rewards).

The options really are to lay down and die (metaphorically, of course), or to move on despite having no real hope that life will ever get less sucky.

Clearly, the latter is the better choice (and the choice that I choose). But, I'm currently having a problem seeing how moving on despite having no real hope that life will ever get less sucky is any different then (metaphorically) laying down and (metaphorically) dying.

Quitting is quitting, whether you're moving on or laying down. Despondency is despondency, whether you wear it on your sleeve or hide it under the bed.

Yes, life is sucky. And, yes, it's possible to look past the suckiness. And, yes, people should look past it. And, yes, I do look past it on a regular basis.

But, at the end of the day, there are some days (or weeks, or years) when the suckiness piles up and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it. And, sure, you can "look past it" but that doesn't change the fact that you're still surrounded by suckiness. Some of which is your fault, some of which isn't. And, most of which, you couldn't get rid of if you tried.

Not that I'm being despondent. Because that would be unbecoming of me.

Sometimes life is just hard.