In both the baseball-metaphor sense, and the ‘flailing wildly with no particular goal in mind’ sense.

Something like throwing spaghetti at the wall and seeing nothing stick. Perhaps I forgot to cook the spaghetti? What is the cooking of spaghetti in this metaphor? Hmm.

Digression happens now, because I have lost the point.

Right! The point was…

Wait.

Something self-indulgent and melancholy, I’m sure. Lack of… Momentum. Upward mobility. Progress? Yes. Too many ambitions, none of them yielding any sort of traction. I suppose that’s always been something of a problem of mine. I have the desire to do anything, everything, always and all at once, but attempting to spread oneself in so many myriad directions simultaneously gets nothing of value accomplished.

I feel like I’m always trying to catch up on time wasted, time misspent. Like I have to explode in every direction in an attempt to gain back the ground I lost to other fruitless pursuits.

There’s a tally being kept of my life, and I fear my account is irreparably in arrears.

… Is this ‘FOMO’?

 

Big Mood.