So among other things I’ve squished (now including a headband, numerous power cables, and Cheerios) is the big end of my camera USB cord. No pictures for a while. Booooo.

What would make me feel that my life is fulfilling, and that it is being lived the best way it can be lived? I seem to from time to time be endlessly dissatisfied with myself in some regard — so what would be satisfying?

I suppose if I were a Nobel Laureate, or the author of a bestseller, or both, whose name is on the lips of university students everywhere, and who came up with a world-changing, potentially humanitarian theory that gives rise to new fields of study, who has traveled everywhere and has lived happily into old age with the love of her life in a beautiful home, then, maybe I would be satisfied.

Problem: Disregarding most of the above, I would have to be really old before I could draw the conclusion. And then what good is it?

Problem: Does this imply that I’m only satisfied if I have all of the above?

Problem: Why isn’t pizza-for-a-year guy depressed because it seems like his entire existence boils down to that one year he won free pizza?

Apparently having a cold means you get to bombard your body with all sorts of random chemicals, because your body is just one massive experiment and hey, they’re over the counter drugs, so the lethal dose is enormously high and you couldn’t possibly do any damage anyway.