This site isn’t yet what I want it to be. There’s a caption at the top that currently reads, “this site is in training to serve you better.” Training is taking longer than I’d like, but things in life always do seem to take longer than one would like. I’d love nothing more than to commit myself entirely to these things that make me happy but that is not a luxury I can enjoy at the moment. The belief that it will some day seems further each day.
I’m sure we all fantasize about coming into a great sum of money. Oh the time it could buy me.
Most of the writing here isn’t my ideal work. In fact, most of it leaves me feeling hypocritical. I go on about how information is important, but then I write whimsical prose about fragments of memory; things of little importance to anyone. At best I can sometimes develop a moral from them, but it’s still ego writing. I’d prefer compelling articles about politics and news, but the necessary research would occupy time I do not have.
Sometimes life feels so huge and uncontrollable that I hardly have any choices to make. Must work, must eat, must sleep. And I’m so small. I worry about this endlessly. And then the feeling of inadequacy overwhelms me. And I get smaller and smaller, until I can just about fit inside the box that we’re supposed to, the one where work and life are automatically satisfying and we want nothing more.
