All Things Profane and Sacred

I feel like writing-not to anyone or about anything particular-and I was looking at my email contact list and couldn't think of anyone I haven't pestered to death with my bad jones for the email (Then again, I don't know why I feel like I have to carefully dole out emails or risk pissing people off.). Then I remembered that I have a blog for these sorts of things, and that while stories about me covered in dogshit probably please more people than I want to know about, mindless babbling and offloading of psychic flotsom is one of the advantages of having a blog.

I've just been feeling restless lately, a reoccurring theme in my life. I feel like I'm sitting here wasting time. I know that part of that is just joblessness, but I can't see a job filling whatever it is that I feel like I'm missing out on. Geographic therapy fantasies and the urge to go somewhere else, anywhere else hit me during the day. But I don't have anywhere to go and I can't see what advantages being somewhere else would bring.

And it's not like I really want to leave or anything anyway. I like Portland. I like listening to the rain fall on the roof of my creaky old house. I like the people who live here and I like spending time with people who do not suck. Most of all, I love J too much to be content living without him. In all, I feel charmed and blessed to live out here in the midst of such wondiferousness. But.

But how fucking bland and self involved is it to be having a "What is the ultimate question" moment a bit too late to charge it off to protracted adolescence and too soon to be the ominous mid life crisis. I guess I put it off through college because I figured that once I was in law school, I would feel like I was doing something, accomplishing something, or whatever. I thought I would be able to create a little more justice in the world, that I could be a part of making the system better. Now I don't only wonder if that is even possible, I wonder whether I even care anymore.

So what now, brown cow? How do you become more than a consumer waiting to die? I feel like I've made so many bad decisions, for once I want to make a good decision.