Breathing the night air as the moment of pleasure taken

In pleasure vanishing seems to grow, its self-soiling

Beauty, which can only be what it was, sustaining itself

A little longer in its going, I think of our own smooth passage

Through the graded partitions, the crises that bleed

Into the ordinary, leaving us a little more tired each time,

A little more distant from the experiences, which, in the old days,

Held us captive for hours.

From "Our Masterpiece is the Private Life", by Mark Strand


Maybe it's the Protestant in me, but it seems like I'm wasting my life away. I feel as though a disproportionate amount of my time is spent doing idle, inane things, instead of working to achieve my goals and potential. I work 40 hours a week, and go to University part time, but those things have become so normal after all this time that it almost feels like they don't even count anymore. And since work appears to be here to stay for the time being, I'll have to learn to live a meaningful and productive life, despite the drain on my time and energy.

My job could be productive and meaningful, it just isn't. That's alright, in many respects. It serves a very important function, and while I'm there doing it I'll do it to the best of my abilities. I'll follow instructions and try to get along with everyone. But a position more suited to my skill set would be nice. A situation where I didn't have to seek fulfillment and productivity elsewhere. I do a lot of sitting, despite my efforts to be more active.

It's times like this, when I feel sluggish and ineffectual, that I need to reflect on my accomplishments. I've lost about thirty pounds since I started walking and adjusting my diet. I've managed to provide for myself the basic necessities, like food, water, clothing, and shelter, after needing to have them provided to me for most of my life. I've already read three books this year, I'm halfway through another, and partway through a couple more. When I have free time, I generally spend it with pleasant, intelligent people. I've even begun to branch out a bit. I just paid cash for my car not too long ago, and own it free and clear, something not everyone can claim.

But these things aren't really doing it for me right now. The Christian is thankful and content. The American is restlessly ambitious, ever striving for more and better. What of the American Christian? Is he a contradiction?

That's a question for a different night. Tonight, this is what I think. Love is not a feeling, but a choice. I have chosen to love life. It would be childish and naive of me to think that it'll all be rainbows and unicorns all the time. But, really. Can't I feel good about things every once in a while? Come on.