I’m not ashamed of my decisions or ambition over the past six years, but I am at a raw point in my life where I have to look back and wonder what good came from all of my busy-ness. I’m afraid I am an over-committed workaholic who never really did anything of substance.

To some degree, I think I am wired to always be doing something. I didn’t get busy because society told me too. I was hurrying about in the rural South as a kid when everyone around me was content with the simple life. I like that I have my hand on a new project on any given day. I like being unpredictable. But I’m also motivated by fear. What if I stop moving, designing, and writing? Will I miss my big break or sink into anonymity?;

I’m hearing more and more on the news (especially NPR) of the darker side of our new technology-obsessed society. It’s common to hear people how the Internet promised us a feeling of connectedness, but it’s only driven us further apart. This notion is nothing new, but in it’s simplicity it remains insightful. No matter how new and exciting a technology may be, it never brings our society more joy. Technology promises to free up time, and we end up just giving that time to some other mindless technology. I mean really, why the hell would anyone text-message someone while they are driving? Is moving at 75 miles an hour not enough of an accomplishment?

Maybe it’s that I don’t know what an aging idealist looks like. A college-aged idealist stands on a perceived moral high ground, carries a lot of political statements, and channels conviction through an organized cause. So you get a degree in political science and venture on to the Peace Corp. Or you move to Africa to help dig wells or put pressure on local militia groups. But what happens once the locals drink up all the water, or you realize the militia groups maybe weren’t the bad guys? What do idealists do when they return home? Is it okay to join your peers who wake up each day in a wealthy, stable nation?

We’re all flying around doing business nowadays, we’ve become disconnected from our families and our communities. You come back to your city, but it’s not home. It’s like we are a bunch of ambitious drifters setting up camp in nice hotels only to ward off loneliness by watching porn.