Published Sunday November 5th, 2006

A topic I frequent here in these writings: Success. I feel unaccomplished. I’m not really sure where to take this from here. Whatever I’ll say it’ll sound like pointless selfish babble. Venting. Possibly because this is what it is. If I want to feel accomplish then go accomplish something. Yes, well.. of course. That’s why it’s pointless babble. However, the sense of lack of accomplishment persists. I hang out with friends and we accomplish nothing. I hung out with myself today in my room and I accomplished nothing. It was a whole day with which I could have done something valuable. Instead I lingered.

I’ve been lingering. I continue to linger--To remain alive; continue or persist, although gradually dying, ceasing, disappearing. So here I am. Unaccomplished. No immediate goals. No plans. Since I don’t believe in destiny, I don’t have any of that, either. Hah! So here I am whining about it. It’s productive, really. There’s something I’m trying to figure out by writing, but it’s not working. Does anyone else have this desire to produce something? To create something that’s recognized or appreciated by others? I do. The torment comes from not knowing what it is that I should create.

There are so many things I would like to do. There are so many things, which I would like to achieve. Why is it that I am only sitting here in my dark room, in my desk-chair, writing that there are so many things which I’d like to do, instead of doing those things which I’d really like to do? “Talk is cheap,” goes a well-known cliché, and it’s very true.

I guess it’s only somehow natural that a weekend of unrestricted great fun be followed by a melancholy weekend of not so much great fun. Having a cold with a cough and raspy voice is likely only to aid in my dissatisfied state. Dissatisfaction.

If the common God did actually exist, it must have been a great feeling when he created the world. Imagine coming up with this planet. Imaging coming up and creating all the plants and animals that roam this world. Creating the geography. I’ll put a range of mountains here and another here separated by this valley here. In this valley there will be this unique species of plants and animals because the only way into this valley is through the great passes through the mountain ranges surrounding the valley. It must have been a great deal of fun. It must have been very satisfying. It must have been very self-fulfilling.

God could have turned around and said to his peers, “Look at what I have done!,” and there could be but only astonishment and marvel at his doings by his companions. Is it completely selfish and somehow conceited that I want this for myself?

I want to come up with something amazing that will leave everyone stunned. I want to do something that will be so amazing that it will leave everyone stunned. Doesn’t that somehow sound revolting? I can’t decide. Though I know I want it, and I’m not anywhere close to getting it. There is what I hope is a driving force somewhere within me, but it’s not being funnelled. It’s spreading outward in every direction. The aspirations are there, but aspire to what?

Once I attain this satisfaction, will it propel me further to additional success? What is it that I hope to gain? Recognition? How am I going to use my recognition? Is it love I seek? Can I somehow apply my success to gain recognition and through this recognition gain love? Does that sound ridiculous? Am I to conclude that, then, I am in fact dissatisfied by not only my lack of accomplishment but also my loneliness? Heh. It’s a conclusion that is not hard to jump to.