ennui

i haven't written in awhile.  I'm not even sure that i have much to say.  I seem to be without words lately.  I feel like i store up so much inside of me and then instead of letting it seep out through words, it just stays within, pushing against me, leaving me queasy and unsure.  

I've been thinking about ideals lately.  Most people have ideals: relating to life, career, values, relationships, etc.   But why do we bother?  Ideals don't get us far...I looked up the definition of ideal: it's something existing only in the imagination not likely to become reality.  It's a false hope...it's what causes people to miss out on taking hold of the good around them because they're always looking for something better...that something that is an illusion.  Is this cynicism?  I don't know.  Is idealism for the naive?  I've seen few people live out their ideals and those who do are treated as childish and a step behind.  Are they truly behind...or are they bravely holding onto what they want?   This is pointless.  

Really I've been realizing lately that my life might never fall into order.  It might actually be composed of this chaotic disarrayed state of not-knowing.   I'm just going to have to learn to make it work.