It is very easy to get hung up on the past or the future. On days like today, where the future begins to blur into a mass of generally uninteresting weeks, I tend to retreat back into some of the more memorable events of the past. Not even 30 and I’m turning into Nostalgia Man™, superhero of the Olde Days. Just the thing to make things even more bleak.

Though I tend to do this, I didn’t today. I don’t know why, but today was more real, more vibrant than usual; it was not the contents of the day, but the way in which I went through it.

If I had to make a conjecture as to why , it would run something like: it’s not the nature of the activity that counts so much as the zeal put into the activity. I’m not talking frothy-mouthed glazed-eyed zeal, but rather the conviction that what one is doing counts somehow, someway. That this moment, this one right now (and this one!), matters. For some reason, this happened today, and most likely won’t tomorrow.

Ten years ago I would have insinuated that I’d discovered a secret, had it all figured out somehow, and then I’d affect a smug grin. However, if I’ve learned one thing, it’s that I am generally wrong whenever I think I’ve figured something out. Systems that promise the lure of the complete solution never deliver.

Philosophy has become more of a practical matter than it used to be. I mark this as an improvement.