Too much

This is essentially another Melancholy Mondays post, but I don't feel like reserving it for next week. This may just be one of those weeks.

I'm trying to be productive. But that basically means sorting things out on the Internet all day. Which is incredibly frustrating at times. There are a lot of details to that that I won't go into because it makes for a long story, but essentially, today was discouraging. And that's unfortunate and ironic because yesterday evening I got a very thoughtful note from Sonya that was... well, now that I'm thinking about it, I suppose it was meant for days like today.

So that pretty much kills this post. 

I guess I'm going to go to bed with a brain all tied up with how much there is in this world. The Internet is a curse, no doubt about it. Not only do we waste infernal amounts of time on it, but it also reveals too much cool stuff to let one live a simple life of contentedness with what one has in one's simple life. Once you've opened that box, there is no closing it. It makes all else look as though there are too few options. Too few pretty things. Too few adventures. Too few talents and skills. Too few days, and months, and years.

And ironically, sitting here trying to extend my life by finding fulfilling work is shortening my life by ruining my body. Such is the vicious cycle of unlife.

Doesn't anyone want to start a small business with me that is guaranteed to be successful? I don't know what that business is, but surely it's out there. Right? Actually. I guess I don't want a guarantee of success. I just want a guarantee of a satisfied mind, whatever that means. I imagine working with a couple guys and gals on crafting rustic-but-probably-modernish, upcycled, sturdy and functional and beautiful furniture; or creating an enviable hideout for those who want books, magazines, computer work spaces, and probably inevitably, coffee; or filling up a small shop with grease and metal and repairing bikes; or starting up that globally recognized, but somehow still really local and small hostel network that keeps us on the go for the cheap and the safe and happy; or those two orphanages in Argentina and Norway that somehow make me a living and allow me to manage them in both countries; or can I just make a living by running cool trails every day, keeping up with Melancholy Mondays and Winning Winsdays, and posting little landscapes on Instagram? I mean, that's what will make me a great father, right? Man I hate this.

I quit until morning. Please be reading this in five years in the comfort of a life you love. 

(...And now, after reading through this before posting, I realize to myself I sound a lot like a wannabe hipster from Oregon. And also, that I neglected to mention can I just write a really well-selling little novel adventure in the span of about two months that lets me relax about this who-am-I business for at least a couple weeks since I wouldn't have to feel like I needed to make money asap in order to get everyone off my back? Yeah, I forgot that one.)