Fudge

I'm not happy with myself today.

I'm not happy with anyone or anything else for that matter. I'm just flat out discouraged. Frustrated is a good word. Disgruntled with a hint of self-pity. Yes, that's it. Why is it that part of the multi-faceted human condition is seemingly constant disatisfaction??? I hate that thing that is inside of me that, no matter how much I feed it, is never quite full. "All the labor of man is for his mouth, and yet he is never full." Ecclesiastes 6:7 Is it greed? Or did God put it inside of me in order to ensure that I wouldn't stop until I completed my pre-destined journey here on earth? Some might call me a snob, while others would say I have high standards. Does that make me stuck-up or someone with discriminating taste? I little of both I fear...

Today is Memorial Day. I feel like I spent the day having a pity party, until I tuned into the news and was reminded of WHY we have Memorial Day. Here I am moaning about what I need and what I want and what I don't have, when there are families who will never see thier sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers, and mothers this side of eternity. I make myself sick. Which brings me back to the human condition. No matter what we have, we're never satisfied. We always manage to find something wrong wherever we are in our lives. Somebody's died, someone's dying, we're not making enough money, our car is too old, our house is too small, we're fat, we have wrinkles...

Thinking about all this makes me anxious to check out of this life (Motel 6), and check into the next (Plaza Hotel, NYC).

Until next time...