(no subject)
Have you ever been really hungry but couldn't find anything to whet your appetite? I'm not speaking metaphorically or cryptically. I mean. Have you ever been famished and in need of tasty sustanance, but can't make up your mind as to what will be the ultimate quinching vehicle???
OK, so maybe I'm speaking slightly metaphorically.
I feel that way right now. It's 2:38am and I'm kind of tired, but I'm anxiously looking around my apt for the BEST form of entertainment. I have plenty to choose from. Gaming systems out the wazoo with some games I've yet to touch (I'm talking to you, Metal Gear Solid 2). Stacks of copied movies (good ones that I have yet to view b/c I haven't had the right moment to watch them). Books. My favorite series of books (Stephen King's Dark Tower series) has been complete for a couple of years now, yet I haven't made any attempt to finish it. No doubt it's gold wrapped in gold.
Projects. I have a portfolio website to update. My TMF page is almost complete. I haven't written a song since.... last summer.
School work. I have a few articles to read for my professional ethics test that is happening with or without me this coming thursday.
Masturbation. I have yet to physically pleasure myself today. Yet, the only driving factor there is habit.
I'm not feeling at all suicidal (quite the opposite--I am so pro living I'm certifiable). But, I'm starting to realize the reason why we're not immortal creatures. With all the decisions that even simple tasks such as leisure require, it stands to reason that a puff of energy has to take a breather from living every once in a while. Death isn't the end. It's just the point where we decide to recharge.
With that said.
I'm 30. A couple moments ago I was running from girls in the playground in an exciting game of boys v. girls tag-you're-it. I was always the last to go. I was just that quick on my feet. I remember running from a herd of girls. Me with my straight-blonde bowl-cut. Me in my shorts and striped shirt my mom picked out from Value City. Me, as I looked back smiling at the gaggle of giggling girls running just behind. Just a moment ago.
Now I'm all of a sudden 30 with a hairline too high for my taste. But this isn't about a midlife crisis, is it? I don't think so. The midlife crisis is a given. It's part of the whole. I'm talking about the anxiety that sets in when you can't settle on anything. Even the most mundane task such as deciding the method of entertainment for a span of an hour becomes a major life decision. But why?
At what point should I get serious? At what point must I stop being an irresponsible, self-centered being focused purely on satisfiying his own stimulus? A possible answer is never. The other answer that comes to mind is: right now.
It's now 3:10 and I'm sleepy enough to hit my hay. Hey.
OK, so maybe I'm speaking slightly metaphorically.
I feel that way right now. It's 2:38am and I'm kind of tired, but I'm anxiously looking around my apt for the BEST form of entertainment. I have plenty to choose from. Gaming systems out the wazoo with some games I've yet to touch (I'm talking to you, Metal Gear Solid 2). Stacks of copied movies (good ones that I have yet to view b/c I haven't had the right moment to watch them). Books. My favorite series of books (Stephen King's Dark Tower series) has been complete for a couple of years now, yet I haven't made any attempt to finish it. No doubt it's gold wrapped in gold.
Projects. I have a portfolio website to update. My TMF page is almost complete. I haven't written a song since.... last summer.
School work. I have a few articles to read for my professional ethics test that is happening with or without me this coming thursday.
Masturbation. I have yet to physically pleasure myself today. Yet, the only driving factor there is habit.
I'm not feeling at all suicidal (quite the opposite--I am so pro living I'm certifiable). But, I'm starting to realize the reason why we're not immortal creatures. With all the decisions that even simple tasks such as leisure require, it stands to reason that a puff of energy has to take a breather from living every once in a while. Death isn't the end. It's just the point where we decide to recharge.
With that said.
I'm 30. A couple moments ago I was running from girls in the playground in an exciting game of boys v. girls tag-you're-it. I was always the last to go. I was just that quick on my feet. I remember running from a herd of girls. Me with my straight-blonde bowl-cut. Me in my shorts and striped shirt my mom picked out from Value City. Me, as I looked back smiling at the gaggle of giggling girls running just behind. Just a moment ago.
Now I'm all of a sudden 30 with a hairline too high for my taste. But this isn't about a midlife crisis, is it? I don't think so. The midlife crisis is a given. It's part of the whole. I'm talking about the anxiety that sets in when you can't settle on anything. Even the most mundane task such as deciding the method of entertainment for a span of an hour becomes a major life decision. But why?
At what point should I get serious? At what point must I stop being an irresponsible, self-centered being focused purely on satisfiying his own stimulus? A possible answer is never. The other answer that comes to mind is: right now.
It's now 3:10 and I'm sleepy enough to hit my hay. Hey.