I went camping this weekend. It was amazing. I had been looking forward to it for weeks in advance. I laughed and got tired and got bit by bugs and all sorts of things that are expected to happen while in the great outdoors. But now I'm back in my regular world of wake/drive/work/drive/sleep. It seems so bizarre how my future becomes my past through this strange filter of present. I used to be able to enjoy the present and I did on the trip but now it feels like a part of me was left behind on that camping trip, stuck in the past and waiting to leap into the next future pleasure.

The rest of my life feels like filler and it's really tough work to not make it feel that way. The little energy I have left at the end of the workday is so precious and I loathe spending it on anything whatsoever. Hoarding it doesn't seem to build it up, though. It gets dissipated somehow in the invisible spaces between the day's regimented stages. Evaporating, leaking, trickling down some unseen drain. Gone and leaving me empty.

Tedium punctuated with fleeting instants of satisfaction. Life in the twenty-first century.

Are we spoiled with an over-abundance of free time? Does my brain feel unsatisfied at the lack of struggle I face daily? Would I be happier trying to eke out a survival existence? Subsistence farming has left the western world long ago and now the hours are filled with a blank void. Money, fame, sex; cheap validation is being sold to us daily by the media in an attempt to pry $ from our tight grip. The sugar melts quickly and leaves a bitter residue.

Better a return to night fires and mosquitoes than a world of hollow dragons building a hoard upon which to die.