Sometimes I stop and wonder, what is it that made me more private, more reserved, and more skeptical over the years? Is it the wisdom of age, or the harsh reality of life? Is it that the Internet grew to include even more idiots, or that my tolerance to idiots has reached a limit? Is it because the romantic ideals of my youth have fizzled, or that time replaced that girl with a colder and harder woman? Is it because I am so busy these days that I have no time for creativity, or is it because I write so much at work that I’m totally brain dead when I get home? Or is it simply because people would rather read short status updates on Facebook than the long and meandering thoughts of strangers?
I don’t know.
Sometimes, I wish I went into research and academia. Would be nice to think of irrelevant things all day.