Every morning I get up I feel the same way, only on a more finite scale, that is, what does it all mean, why do I care, why should I care, I'm just going to die either later today, tomorrow, two years from now, or twenty years from now.
I'm a real upper in the mornings (usually when my alarm on my phone is prodding me up at 5:30 a.m. to go running, which I need to do since I'm running the Portland Marathon later this year and am about 50-75 pounds over my goal weight for, hell, not even for running, just for living, yet I just hit snooze and laze in my warm blankets hoping that somehow I'll just magically show up on that cold October morning ready to run 26.2 miles, and then it starts... what does it matter, I'll just be dead someday soon).
Then, when I get going, feel good, like I have some control, I feel like Bart does in The Simpsons episode, "A Totally Fun Thing That Bart Will Never Do Again:"
The general uneasy feeling I have coursing through me at any given moment is my utter lack of preparedness of my 30's. I blew my 20's in college and saying, "I'll get serious when I have X." Well about fifty "x moments" have come and gone and I realized something - life is a blast. It's a horrible, ugly, brutish and fun blast. Sure I'm going to die, the universe will end, and my cruise is closing in on half over, but I'm still alive, and since I'm going to die and can't take anything with me, why worry? I'm not one to believe in the immortality of the soul or an afterlife. My position in this weird conscious state of life is it's one and done, so I'm going to make the most of it, I'm going to scare myself, try new things, like getting up at 5:30 a.m. and running, on a Saturday.
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