Claudia came over tonight and we hung out, talked, and watched 'The Fabulous Life of Hollywood It Girls' and 'The Surreal Life', both on VH1. I love watching the ridiculous ways in which rich people can spend their money, and everything on 'The Surreal Life' is just retarded. I'm glad Claudia was here, since it somehow justified the expenditure of precious, valuable time on something so stupid. If it's in the name of hanging out with my friends, I'll do just about anything, so this was *totally* worth it.
I had a relatively long day at work, or at least it felt like it, since I had an 8am meeting and I'm used to rolling in sometime after 9. Oh well, I suppose it's occasionally good for me. People are returning to campus this weekend, so that is exciting. I hope to have some good socialization/relaxation time this weekend.
It seems like life is moving so fast. I will go to bed in a few minutes, and when I wake up, I've just lost another seven hours. Well, I suppose that's not a good way to think about it--sleep is very necessary. Instead, I wasted four hours tonight watching VH1. But I was baking a cake, and then hanging out with Claudia, and that's definitely not a waste. However, who knows how long this life will last? And what am I supposed to accomplish before it is finished? Is life something that you accomplish? or is it something that you experience? I don't really like to be a passive bystander in things that I care about, and so I have difficulty believing that life is something that you just experience as it goes by. Rather, it's something that can, to some extent, be directed, and it must be accomplished in some way to provide maximum benefit to yourself and others. At the same time, I believe that a lot of things happen for a reason--I suppose that's the nature of hope, since if I didn't believe that things happened for a reason, I would be pretty pessimistic about my chances of figuring things out/finding love/having children/being happy/etc. So where does that leave me? With a pressing, suffocating belief that I should be *doing* something, accomplishing something, focusing on something with the ultimate aim of improving it/me/everyone, and simultaneously the self-destructive doubt about my chances of success.
It's bad enough when my overwhelming perfectionism paralyzes me from starting a project, but now it's paralyzing me from accomplishing *life*. That's awful! I have to do something, something, anything, just to get myself started.
And my grand beginning: bedtime!
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