My Day

It's ironic... Life is. I spend most of my working day motivating people to do a great job, encouraging them to perform better and achieve loftier career goals. I inspire them to do their best and I do a pretty good job. But here I am, not even capable of motivating myself. It's the classic situation, like the analogy that mostmechanics in this country have beat up 20-year old cars to show fortheir years of tinkering with the flashiest new cars. Or that of construction workers who spend the day building mansions go home to a single-room houses lighted by a single light bulb with a makeshift roof built from construction scraps. I am the ironic opposite of my vocation. I've been reduced to a fumbling fool, seeing the days speed by, dragging my feet as I go along.

In a fit of depression, I've sworn off spending. I cut up my last 2 credit cards. I'm going to try an life as frugal a life as I can. Seeing beggars on the streets make me so full of guilt it makes me sick to my stomach. I pity them. Seeing special children makes me feel lucky but bad for them. Riding the jeep everyday has made me fearful of seeing homeless people, because I can take seeing them suffer so needlessly on the cold hard streets while I see other people riding their obscenely expensive SUV's and beamers. I empathize too much, my wife complains. But I cannot change who I am. I feel guilt for everything that is wrong with this cruel world that we have. I sometimes think of all the bad and the good in my life and think why I am blest yet others suffer. Why does there have to be suffering all around us?

I have no answers. It is my belief no one does. There are too many why's it makes my head hurt just thinking about them. Irrational is what I have been today and I don't expect an improvement for a few days to come. I just console myself with the thought that this is just a phase I go through every now and then. Depression sucks. Too many thoughts, no answers forthcoming...