sleepy and sheepy

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FnL Unemployment

There's a certain school of thought that says you have to run towards life. That you must embrace it in all its weirdness and hideous glory in order to fully understand the nature of why we crawled out from the primordial slop in the first place. I never did very well in school. 
Perhaps this explains why I constantly choose safety and comfort in lieu of genuine experience. I would think that someone of my demeanor and personality would be quick to find excitement and adventure in each and every corner that it lurks, but the truth is always such a pale copy of what happens in my head, and the heads of most other people, I imagine, that I'm more apt to walk the boring line than hurtle towards space in a rocket ship of histrionic insanity. There's a way to appear disaffected by all that life slops in our buckets, and a way to actually be unmoved by a banal day to day existence. I am terrified to believe that I have become one of those losing souls. In every tale there is a villain, and it may be that fear is mine, dooming me in all finality. But perhaps ennui will win out the role as my Snidely Whiplash and I can overcome this ulcerous, miserable little bump on life and move forward with the chest beating hope of a beast that strives to evolve one step further, picks up his bone club and beats his enemies to death in a defiant cry towards the rest of the universe.