The human life is really a strange thing. We are born. Then most people on Earth (maybe just some, I don't know) spend the next two decades or so sitting and listening to other humans tell them things, things that in most cases will be forgotten and in most of those cases it won't matter if they flutter away to the spider-webby, dusty basement of the human brain. Then a lot of those people will take on work that will earn them as many rectangular-shaped pieces of cotton paper as they can get. Then they die. I mean there's a good amount of filler to make it more interesting--sex is great but has a reputation for causing problems, love can be beautiful until you throw human nature in the mix. I guess life is really just about the filler.

So...

How does one make some good filling?

Love: Since it's truly a dumb idea to try and find love, maybe I should actually let love find me. I need to open myself up (not literally) to more people; crazy things like love lurk in the dark corners you never expect them to be in. I should probably stop giving so much thought as to what could happen and relish in what is actually happening, as horribly mundane as it may be. Like the fact that I'm sitting here, in a warm yet supremely uncomfortable bed, using this rather complicated brain I have to make marks that translate at least a bit of what I feel and think. (The ability to read and write, really language in all its forms, is a mind-blowing phenomenon...sure these words look familiar to speakers of the English language and can at least be sounded out by speakers of some other languages but really, they're just a bunch of scribbles that make sense to 0.00000000000000001% of the universe.) Either way, I'm here right now, could be gone two seconds from now and in the grand scheme of things, my nearly twenty-one years of life had about as much of an effect on the universe as a particle of dirt stuck to an African elephant's ass. With that said, it'd probably be smart idea to love good and hard because you never know when the big tail is going to swing around and flick you off into non-existence.

Happiness: It's easy to think of things that make you happy. Sex (done right) makes me incredibly happy. Love (also done right or, at least the best way we know how) can also make me happy. But you can't have sex twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week (it almost wouldn't be fair if life were that good) so I (you can too) need to figure out other that make me (you) happy; to fill in the spaces between loving and fucking.

So now I'm back to figuring out what makes me happy. I suppose life really is about the pursuit of happiness. It's the pursuit that's the filler anyways.