Am I too late?

I fear I am running late. Not for an appointment, not for a date, or a movie, or for work. This is a much bigger late than I have ever been before...

I don't have my PhD in Neuroscience yet. I haven't read any of the philosophy I am supposed to have read. I am not married. I have no children. I don't have a "career" and I have yet to publish my novel (in fact I haven't written it--shit).

Who else feels this way? We all do. Cue french accordian music. Okay, Radiohead will do, thanks Saurin Park.

It's no wonder saving mice makes me feel better than anything else, it's no wonder I don't feel satisfied with life. I don't know what satisfaction looks like. Have you ever heard of the approach/approach phenomenon? Here I am, your average run of the mill lab rat. To my left down a tunnel lies a scrumptious morsel of swiss cheese, to my right down a tunnel lies a scrumptious morsel of swiss cheese. Which way do I go? Which way do I go?

It doesn't matter, right? Wrong. If I were really a laboratory rat, I would run back and forth down the little tunnel, never arriving at either yummy destination. I see this as a metaphor for my life. I can't run down the tunnel, because there might be something at the other end that would be fun, at which I could be good, that would have been my calling. I have so many callings that I am without purpose. I don't fail. Worse, I flounder.

Time to say goodbye to one scrumptious morsel and devour the other before something gets moldy.