Life is very difficult because on one hand you are very thankful to be a human but on the other hand you feel like, “as a human shouldn’t I have accomplished more?” For instance: I am not a photographer for National Geographic. I am also not a frequent contributor to Harper’s or The New Yorker. As far as I can tell I’m completely wasting my humanness.
It seems pretty ridiculous to have opposable thumbs, a big brain, hundreds of thousands of years of genetic mutations and intellectual discovery, and I don’t even host a late night talk show. I don’t even write for a successful television series. I’m not saying I’m so great, I’m just saying I’m human, and I think that should count for more.
Others of my kind have sent rockets into space, have written operas, have established new governments and religions. I haven’t done any of those things. I haven’t even won any awards of recognition or hand built an alternative fuel car. It’s like, what am I even doing? Where is my time going?
Perhaps it’s time to really make note of how I use my days. A diary might lend insight to where I’m losing the precious hours that should be devoted to solving the oil crisis and becoming fluent in Russian.
Wierd. I was just sitting here feeling like a failure for sitting on my ass reading blogs again instead of doing something productive and worthwhile and then i read this. Glad I’m not the only one who feels this way!
Well, I think you’re amazing and amazing at summing up exactly how I feel. You must be in my brain…and that is beyond human. Love, Counts for Nothing