Till one cloud-scattered night

In terms of a personal update, I will say that I’ve been mired in some sort of crisis—existential, quarter-life, or otherwise.  I had always been the kind of person who believed that everything happened for a reason and that some greater force was guiding me through life, taking me wherever I was meant to be; but I recently realized that for whatever reason, I’d just stopped buying it.  That has a lot of implications.  For one, the “go with the flow” approach that I take toward my life doesn’t really cut it, if my fate is solely my responsibility.  I have to figure out what I need to do to live the life I want and work to make it happen.  For another, I keep finding myself sinking into these brooding fits where I obsess about wasting my life.  (I’m already twenty-five, and what the hell have I accomplished?  I don’t even feel like I’ve progressed much as a person.)  I’ve been trying to evaluate the expectations I have for myself and my life to see what’s actually attainable, because I’ve reached the point where I have to face the fact that some things are just not going to happen.  For example, it occurred to me that I’ve always wanted to be an extravert.  Guess what?  Not happening.  So I guess what that means is that I have to find some sort of meaning in my life and a way to feel fulfilled without achieving extraversion.  (I am also probably never going to be a pirate rock star.)

These issues are exacerbated by the fact that I’m having a hard time with my current work assignment—I start wondering whether it’s getting to be time to jump ship job-wise, then I wonder whether I could even get hired to do anything else, then I wonder whether I will ever find a job I truly like (many people don’t, and I could well be one of those people), then I wonder whether I’m even good at anything I could be paid to do, and I wonder what the point of all this is anyway, working to make money to keep myself alive for what, exactly?  Where do people find meaning in their lives?  I would genuinely like an answer to that question.

I also have a hard time articulating why I’m not satisfied with my life.  I’ve been told by certain people that I can’t complain because I have (1) a job, (2) a boyfriend, and (3) an apartment.  While it’s true that I would probably bitch about it if I didn’t have those things, those three conditions in themselves do not a meaningful life make.  I tend to put things in terms of not having enough friends at the moment, but that isn’t quite it—it’s not that I need a lot of friends, but more that I lack meaningful connections with people.  The introversion thing is not helping there.  I am also seriously lacking adventures.  If my idea of an exciting weekend is vacuuming and rearranging my apartment, that’s a problem.  Lacking adventures can also be traced back to lacking friends—I can go on adventures by myself and have been doing that regularly for the past six months or so, but it gets lonely after a while.

Eh, I hate posting depressing things, but what’re you gonna do.  Anyway, here’s a cool song:

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