I can’t seem to quiet my mind lately.  I think it’s those oh-so-wonderful mixed manic phases.  Do you know how much I love those?  Yeah, not so much.

          I can’t stop shopping and spending money.  In my defense, my Christmas shopping is more than half done.  Squee!  I plan to be completely finished by the end of the month.  That feat would set a new record even for me.  It would also just be one less thing I was scrambling to do, which is always good.  The shopping doesn’t bother me too much because it’s not bad.  I mean, it’s bad, but it would have been done one way or the other, so I am going to pick my battles with my guilt and write this one off.

           The part of the mixed mania that does bother me is that I am bubbling over with the energy to clean and organize and work on scrapbooks and complete the other tasks I put off in my down swings, like I typically am.  The only part of me that is energized and can’t stop is my mind.  I am awake until 3 in the morning just reading and thinking about the paths we could take to adoption.  There is one thought that won’t leave my mind – that we are consuming ourselves with futility.

          Every thing we do is pointless.  Short of hunting, gathering, and making shelters, why do we need to do the things we do?

          Every technological and medical advance has lead to more things – more jobs, more money, more pollution.  You could argue that our quality of life has improved, and on one hand, I would agree.  But then, if you’ve never know the pleasure of a flushing toilet, or vaccinations, or a John Deere tractor, would it really make a difference?  100 years ago we didn’t have the pollution and medication-resistant infections and bacterium.  You spent what you could earn and nothing more.  There were no debt collectors because debt was minimal – what your local store was willing to extend to you.  You didn’t have credit cards and variable rate mortgages.  You didn’t have to worry about not being able to shelter your children because of a mortgage crisis and soaring interest rates.  You didn’t have cars and car insurance and a gas budget for the car.

          I keep going over and over the progression of history and the developmental path we took and how each thing brought new problems.  Bringing "efficient" machines to factory floors meant more accidents, which lead to workmen’s compensation and labor unions, and other insurance considerations.  Bringing women to hospitals to give birth brought a slight increase in the maternal death rate because of the amount of pathogens the newborns and vulnerable mothers were being exposed to.  It also took away the mother’s voice in her child’s birth and replaced it with a culture of fear, silence, and re-dubbed birth as the most painful experience a woman will ever endure.

          We seem to have created a vicious cycle for ourselves – all our pursuits are trivial in the grand scheme of things. To hear some environmentalists tell it, we’re going to kill ourselves in the next 25-50 years, and if we don’t completely die off, a great many of us will die and those that are left will have a very hostile environment in which they will attempt to negotiate their survival.

         If our own earth doesn’t rise up against us, nuclear and biological warfare will do us in.  The earth will be ruled solely by cockroaches and creatures that dwell in the depths of the ocean where no sunlight reaches.  The other remaining animals will be strange mutations of their former selves…  No plant life will survive and slowly, we will die out.

          I guess this is my internal, "What is the meaning of life?" debate.  Does everyone think about this from time to time, and maybe in slightly different terms or am I just morbid and weird? 

          Seriously, why are we here?  Why do we think that all the things we do are making things better?