The escapism of living in the present.

I discovered something today about this little blogging journey of mine.

What I found out was that I thought I was going to want to read my old blog entries, even derive pleasure from them, but I didn't want to read them.

It seems like a lot of them are me grasping toward meaning and then becoming discouraged over and over again.

I need other people to come up with the meaning for me. I can process information all kinds of different ways over and over again but it is never worth much to me.

I fear that no matter how far I "get" I'll be unhappy with what I've gotten.