:: Lost ::
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I don't know what I'm doing.
I find it hard to ever admit that I don't know something, but this, for some reason, is an exception. This is the case, because, I think, it's the one thing I do know.
When I say that I don't know what I'm doing, I don't mean that I think I'm incompetent at my job - that's another thing I will find very difficult to accept. Heck, given any activity (aside from singing, playing a musical instrument, and intentionally trying to be funny, among a few other things), I'll probably find it difficult to admit that I'm not (or will not be) good at it. All this rambling, however, about my self-confidence, or if you'd prefer, my cockiness, is beside the point. The point is that I'm lost.
On a side note (that is again, beside, if not very far from, the point), I seem to be infatuated with dangling participles (that's what they're called, aren't they?), don't I? On yet another side note, if these interjections, like this one, are not, as I previously called them, dangling participles, I hope somebody reading this would be kind enough to enlighten me. In other words, please tell me what these f#$@ing phrases stuck between the commas are.
Going back to the point, which I totally lost in the previous paragraph, I am lost. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm repeating myself. I should stop and just get to this lost point on getting lost.
I live moment by moment, and I do one thing after another. At the end of the day, however, I don't know what everything I do adds up to. Yes, I am having, if you'd like to call it that, an existential crisis. Whatever it is, though, it's bothering me. I think that much is obvious.
I'm lost, and I don't really know what this entry is about either. It isn't a call for help - at least it isn't intended to be. Getting my bearings is something for me to do by myself. Others can try to help, but ultimately, I'm the one who has to move.
This isn't much of a rant - I'm not charged up enough to really need a vent. Neither is this a random post - I've obviously got something with some meat on my mind. I know it's obvious, but this isn't some sort of resolution either. I don't have a statement anywhere here that I am going to start doing something about whatever it is I'm writing about. This thing is just...
I don't know.
I really don't know.
00:00 | view comments
I don't know what I'm doing.
I find it hard to ever admit that I don't know something, but this, for some reason, is an exception. This is the case, because, I think, it's the one thing I do know.
When I say that I don't know what I'm doing, I don't mean that I think I'm incompetent at my job - that's another thing I will find very difficult to accept. Heck, given any activity (aside from singing, playing a musical instrument, and intentionally trying to be funny, among a few other things), I'll probably find it difficult to admit that I'm not (or will not be) good at it. All this rambling, however, about my self-confidence, or if you'd prefer, my cockiness, is beside the point. The point is that I'm lost.
On a side note (that is again, beside, if not very far from, the point), I seem to be infatuated with dangling participles (that's what they're called, aren't they?), don't I? On yet another side note, if these interjections, like this one, are not, as I previously called them, dangling participles, I hope somebody reading this would be kind enough to enlighten me. In other words, please tell me what these f#$@ing phrases stuck between the commas are.
Going back to the point, which I totally lost in the previous paragraph, I am lost. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm repeating myself. I should stop and just get to this lost point on getting lost.
I live moment by moment, and I do one thing after another. At the end of the day, however, I don't know what everything I do adds up to. Yes, I am having, if you'd like to call it that, an existential crisis. Whatever it is, though, it's bothering me. I think that much is obvious.
I'm lost, and I don't really know what this entry is about either. It isn't a call for help - at least it isn't intended to be. Getting my bearings is something for me to do by myself. Others can try to help, but ultimately, I'm the one who has to move.
This isn't much of a rant - I'm not charged up enough to really need a vent. Neither is this a random post - I've obviously got something with some meat on my mind. I know it's obvious, but this isn't some sort of resolution either. I don't have a statement anywhere here that I am going to start doing something about whatever it is I'm writing about. This thing is just...
I don't know.
I really don't know.
