4: belly scratch

Tonight I can’t sit still.

I have far too much on my mind, and my train of thought keeps leaping from one track to the next with a will of its own, and I can’t just write about one thing for very long.

I had a job interview today. I think it went really well. I don’t know if it went well enough. I could have a job soon. I might have to move to a city I’ve never lived in. Meet new people. Fall into a new routine.

I could get rejected. There might be a better candidate. Maybe he or she is a lot better and it was a no-brainer. Maybe it will be a difficult decision, but I’ll ultimately lose out because I was just ever so slightly less impressive.

I’ll spend the weekend antsy about this.

But I do think it went well overall.

 

Cats, man. How is it that, day in and day out, all they need is food, naps in the sun and to be scratched on their bellies, and they are totally fulfilled?

One of my felines, Philly Phil.
One of my felines, Philly Phil.

Why is it that I, a human, need all that + meaning + a purpose in life + a defined place in the universe?

Why do I regularly grapple with the very idea that right now I exist, and sometime after right now┬áI’ll cease to do so, and that in between those two moments I need to make something of myself?

Do cats ever have existential crises?

Where’s my nap in the sun?

I can provide a cat with everything it needs, with complete and utter fulfillment, but I’m pretty sure my quest for fulfillment will not end as long as I live.

And I guess that’s a really good thing. It’s what keeps me from complacency. Keeps me striving. Drives me to work, to explore, to blog, to strum, to create.

Still, though. Where’s my belly scratch?

I don’t have much else for tonight. I’m too deep in “reflection” mode and not really in “writing” mode, but I made a promise to myself to put this post out there.

Thanks for being here.

Peace.

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