Purpose, or lack thereof

My freshman roommate* oversees web properties that receive 10 million unique visitors monthly according to a web article I just read. That’s 6000-times what my site gets.

*He was only my roommate for about four weeks. He was the most horrible roommate I could possibly have during my first month at Duke. He was several degrees of asshole higher than anyone I had ever met. He helped make my first weeks there hell. When I play the “what-if” game, two interesting scenarios are that he wasn’t my roommate, and that I was somehow able to cope and not have to demand a room change.

Of all the people in the world regarding whom I’ve wished to feel schadenfreude, he’d be near the top.

Well, he’s ridiculously successful. There’s no “yeah, but”s to qualify this. He is the epitome of a great Duke success story.

I won’t try to describe what I am. The unique-web-visitors statistic isn’t the point. Comparing myself to this dickweed isn’t the point.

If I had ANY idea what I wanted to do with my life, none of this would bother me one iota. But I really have no idea. I am desperate to have a clue, if it’s not already too late.

Aremid loves me
Something no one else has