Life.

I'm not sure what to say; I feel kind of blank, kind of stuck.  At least today. I'm used to cultivating some excitement, and feel plain jane.  Maybe a new job?  Take a risk?  Not sure.  All of the activities I like take time.  A lot of time.  They don't guarantee financial pay out.  The don't guarantee anything, save the experience of doing them. Which itself is fine if we lived in an abstract fairy world.  Work as a principle is fine, is great, but the trick is trying to work hard to rearrange your goals/preferences so that you don't feel like a schmuck all day pushing someone else's agenda--i.e. believe in someone else's agenda enough to push it for them..  So much of my day is filled with the platter of administrative tang.  Makes me sick, and I have no right to complain, really.

Our lives are incredibly, microscopically, small.  We are born, live long enough to come to grips with the fact that we're aware of something; then we realize that what we've come to grips with is crumbling at the foundation, and that one eternal truth, one verifiable truth, is that the small fragment of happiness that have infiltrated the depths against impossible odds is highly fragmentary and temporal.  That we will no longer exist, and no longer matter.  It is a truth that we dislike even when we change during our lives from one perspective to another.  We don't like to change what we fundamentally believe in.  It matters too much.  Makes us feel completely wasted.  Only with viable alternatives will we seek to explore, to expose our underbellies--I should say, only with what we think are viable alternatives.  Even then, we dislike the idea that we've committed so much of our lives believing something only to move away from it. We dislike it so much because we know that we have limits to experience, real constraints, and the entirety of our being, from the elasticity in our skin to the sheen of our scalps, only matters because it matters to us.  That, when we stop caring about it, it stops mattering.