Man on a string

[mbarrick]

Another day, another conversation, another set of mixed signals. Sigh

I don't know if I am wasting my time. One day at a time. While I'm in a Shakespeare mood anyway...

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow
Creeps this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.

- Macbeth V,v

Let's hear it for 17th century nihilism

It's true though. It all seems so damned important, but what difference does it make?