It's been a while since I've actually written a fully thoughtful post on a topic that actually merits a thoughtful post. I suppose you can't force these kinds of things, and the dearth of quality engagement that my job presents me with probably just encourages this mental laziness that currently plagues me.

I have spent an awful lot of time lately thinking about the idea of a purposeful life. What is a truly purposeful life? Does it appeal to a "higher" sense of purpose, or does it fundamentally lie with, at the basest of descriptions, hedonism? I suspect it is the latter. The problem is that hedonistic satisfaction is an ever moving target. You may think you are ahead of the game, but at that precise moment, the game changes.

I think my game has changed dramatically as of late, to the point where I fail to recognize what I should be looking for or working towards in the first place. My game changed when I went to Nicaragua, and almost wanted to bank for the rest of my life. It pivoted again a few weeks ago when Mr. left for several months and left me to conclude that I now lack the desire to race my bike altogether. It blurred again when I sat in Dr. Rifkin's office confirming that I'd go to medical school and afterwards panicking that I was not made for that world. I want some aspect of renewed focus somewhere, anywhere in my life so badly. Every time I think I settle on it, I lose it completely again. The king of hearts, the joker's wild

I feel like it changed again tonight, and my understanding now is what was solid can become fluid, and I don't want it to be that way. Coping with uncertainty is part of growing up. I don't think that successful coping implies comfort, however, so I am just skitting along with minimal comfort and an eye toward developing thicker skin with regards to uncertainty. But the uncertainty continues to gnaw away at me and infects the certainty that I was so fortunate to have.