State of The Human Address.

I want to start out by saying this: The state of this human and his brain is...meh.


At just about a third of the way through 2014, I keep finding myself asking ridiculously deep, introspective questions that have me spiralling down a very deep, very dark rabbit hole. Sort of like Alice did upon her descent into Wonderland. She and I have a lot in common in that respect...if Alice were a man, horrendously overweight, and balding. One other thing that Alice and I do have in common is that we have some pretty big fans in the "Bear" community.

These questions are pretty basic stuff that we all ask ourselves from time to time. "What the hell am I doing with myself?" "How in the Hell did I get here?" "Am I doing what I am meant to be doing?"

I have no delusions that I am in any way alone in asking these questions. We as a species have been asking these questions of ourselves for thousands of years and will continue to do so for eons more. The issue that I have been finding in dealing with these questions, is that they seem to induce a deluge of mania when I'm left alone with them for too long. A frenzy of synaptic firings that have me feeling that it is too late for me to change. Too late to go after whatever it is that would make me happier, i.e. professionally, physically, and spiritually (whatever that means).

Back in December I started my current job as a security guard at a community hospital. The hours are not pleasant, I never get enough sleep, the work is stressful, and the pay is abysmal. I haven't been happy with my work in quite sometime. The overriding theme on slow nights is "What am I doing here?" My palms start to sweat, my stomach contorts, and my brain swirls to nearly exploding. I am self aware enough to realize that this is anxiety and that everything is okay. Then I begin to remember why I am there. It is for my kids-the little girl and not much little-er boy that anchor me in a semi-responsible, mature adult head space. Me caveman. Me provide. Me bring home bacon.

Usually it is at this time in my mini manic episode that the madness begins to wane. I realize something: no matter what I do for work, no matter my personal doubts,  I am a father. I do have a purpose in life that far exceeds any other personal endeavor. Raising children in this world is a challenge that I fully accept, although I admit at times never fully appreciate. But my tiny anxiety attacks seem to quell when I see their faces in my mind. That may be the purpose behind these episodes, I wonder. The brain starts going wild with fear and balance is restored when I remember my main goal on this planet. I'm a dad. Or just "Dada", if you ask my daughter.

I have the most important occupation in the world. One that I share with millions of others and one that doesn't cut you a check at the end of the week. I just need to remember this fact BEFORE the sweaty hands, Niagara-like brow sweat, and the soon-to-be stomach ulcer nervousness.

I need another source of personal satisfaction. As I stated in the previous post, I want to create. I have been writing again almost everyday. I've been putting projects together in my head that span over several different mediums that I can hopefully share with you guys one day. Better yet, maybe we can do some of these things together. The state of this humans brain WILL be strong. Maybe not tomorrow, next week, or even this year. But it will be...someday.

Thanks for reading, I have rambled long enough. I promise to refine these a bit better as they go on, I'm still not really used to this.


I love you guys.

This is Only a Test...

Hey Gang, 



This is your good pal Jesse sitting down to holler at you for a minute. Please bear with me as this is merely an exercise in self-indulgence, boredom, stress, and a bit of a nose dive into self-exploration via my own cozy little corner of the Internet. This blog is going to serve as a bit of an outlet for my weirdo rantings and opinions, as well as any other little projects I am constantly thinking and talking about starting and never actually (but hopefully one day) doing. I know that most people will gloss over this page as just another writer's attempt at clogging up your Twitter feeds and Facebook walls with some sort of delusions-of-grandure laden, pseudo-intellectual, masturbatory drivel. And you should. This is exactly what this is-for the most part, anyway.


What I can do, however, is promise you this. If you do decide to take some time out from posting pictures of your awesome vacation (that I hate you for taking because I'm not there), or tweeting about how great your barista made your coffee this morning (that I hate because this whole coffee game is getting really irritating), or browsing YouTube until your eyeballs almost fall out (I do not hate this because I do the same), I promise to try and make at least one of you laugh or think or cry. The latter of which would be pretty flippin' sweet. I'm sorry. I'm just a little morbid like that.


I have been consumed with the idea of creating something creative, truthful, funny, artistic, awful, beautiful, destructive, and so many other adjectives that it has nearly eaten away at my brain. It has been so overwhelming at times, that it has led to a sort of self-imposed nihilism that was born out of not seeing a starting line through the fog. But here it is. Right in front of me. My own little cozy corner of the universe. Let's do this.

And so it begins.


"Buy the ticket, take the ride."
-Hunter S. Thompson