Hm. Lemma ask ya somethin -- if you're familiar with "Hamlet", and you recall the scene right before the see the Players, where Hamlet is talking ... I believe this is the scene where he says something like "you could confine me in a wallnut shell and I might count myself the king of infinite spaces"... um, that would be compared to being where he was and when he was at that point, instead. I think his last line in this scene is, "Man amuses me not."Anyhow, if you remember that scene -- what, exactly, would you say that Hamlet's damage was? Depression? Ennui? Existential Angst? Just being a crabby bitch?
Whatever it is, I think that's what my deal is. I can certainly go do things, in fact I can quite easily become excited about doing this or that thing -- unfortunately, all truth being told, after I've done these things my opinion usually is, "Eh."
See the problem? It's not that it's horrible. Or sad. Or unfulfilling. But it's not fantastic or happy-making or fulfilling, either.
Like -- rather imagine if your entire life is like ... you know how it might be some lazy evening, for whatever reason you're kinda tired, but not exhausted or sleepy ... just kinda bored, but not necessarily feeling like "doing something"? And you end up watching something on TV (or perhaps surfing the web) and after a couple of hours, you finally kinda stretch and move away from the screen.
It's not like the worst or best movie you ever saw was on. Many channels, much to choose from. Likewise, if you and you alone are in control of it, it's probably not usually so hard to keep yourself as least half-interested in surfing the net. And yet, the point again: Supposing that that's pretty much how you experience your *whole life*.
What the hell do you call that?
