My Hero

Watching TV can be very productive. For example, on while taking in Jeopardy the other day, I learned about Arthur Schopenhauer, the ‘Philosopher of Pessimism.’

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I don’t believe in reincarnation, but if I did, I would think that he was me in a previous life. I’ve never felt so down-trodden and inspired at the same time.

I’ve tried radically changing my personality in order to enjoy life a bit more, but surprisingly that failed. My latest technique is to go full throttle into my negative, pessimistic attitude yet try to enjoy and be delighted by such depressing things.

“Unless suffering is the direct and immediate object of life, our existence must entirely fail of its aim. It is absurd to look upon the enormous amount of pain that abounds everywhere in the world, and originates in needs and necessities inseparable from life itself, as serving no purpose at all and the result of mere chance. Each separate misfortune, as it comes, seems, no doubt, to be something exceptional; but misfortune in general is the rule.”

-Arthur Schopenhauer, On the Sufferings of the World

 

A Sensible Life, Part II: School for Therapy

I recently decided to go to school for therapy. By that I mean: go to school to become a therapist, not use school as a form of therapy.

It was a mostly logic-based decision as far as a career was concerned. I’ve always had interest in psychology, (and much more recent interest in helping people), so my choice wasn’t completely out of left field.

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On a separate note, I was recently struck with an idea for a short story:

The main character is a therapist, who gives up on his creative dreams. Soon he finds himself—day in and day out—tasked with supporting others to follow their dreams instead of settling for second-best.

At first, it’s rewarding. But then it becomes too much…. And any client of his who decides to pursue their dreams, come what may, tragically gets murdered and stored under the therapist’s floorboards.

***

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Who can say where ideas come from? Sometimes inspiration hits at the strangest times. I may find the time to write this story while I’m applying to graduate school, or I may not. At least I know where my priorities lie.

P.S. The TWIST at the end of the story is that the therapist’s office was on the third floor, and he’s been dropping bodies onto the person beneath him for years.

Not very considerate.

The Final Bow:

Sometimes you don’t exit on a high note:

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To quote from Monty Python:

“Life’s a piece of shit
When you look at it
Life’s a laugh and death’s a joke, it’s true
You’ll see it’s all a show
Keep ’em laughin’ as you go
Just remember that the last laugh is on you!”

My Latest Ingenious Idea

I’ve been feeling absolutely terrible lately! And then I realized something…

  1. I thought I had to make art in a particular way
  2. I thought I could only make art when I was inspired
  3. I thought my anxiety, depression, and indecisiveness was getting in my way

And that’s when it hit me: make art about it! If I feel like I can’t get out of bed in the morning…make a comic about it.  If I’m struggling with feelings of inadequacy, write a terrible poem about it! The worse I feel, the more likely something interesting will come out of it, and the more people will relate to it, because everyone’s just a mess pretending to be an adult with her/their/his shit together.

I know this is perhaps the most obvious idea in the world, but I’m taking full credit for it.

It turned my worst days and moments into something interesting. Unfortunately, this idea made me happy, and everyone knows you can’t make art when you’re happy, so I’m screwed.

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