A Mere Interlude

having some sort of panic attack-existential crisis. on the way back to amsterdam from new york, i was suddenly plagued by a sense of uncertainty, dislocation, inferiority. what am i doing? what am i doing here? is this really where i want to be? everything seems so vague and unreal: the table, the chair, the penning down of thoughts, the man wiping his glasses. i always make daily to-do lists. i believe that i am defined by what i do. but now i am lost by the numbers. i did a lot in 2009. but what does that all mean? how have i grown? how do i reflect and learn? there is no end. the things i do and say seem so lame.