After giving my first podcast a try, I noticed I couldn’t get the “Show/Hide Player” and “Popup” to work. It was already past midnight, but rather than just turn in and try again in the morning, I resolved to work on it until it was fixed.

I spent three hours on the problem and finally gave up at 3AM. Man was I cheesed. I hated it when something wasn’t working right, but the more I kept at it, the more it seemed to break. When I woke up the next morning, I sat down and resolved the issue inside of 5 minutes. Sheesh. I need to learn how to let things go until I can come back to a problem with a better frame of mind.

I had other issues to fix though, but nothing really urgent (an invalid feed here, a few poor link colors here, etc..) Still, I spent the better part of my day just doing blog related housekeeping. I hadn’t even eaten till around 4.

I think I need a life. With my plans of attending law school shot to hell, I guess with nothing better to do I’ve been turning my focus to blogging again, even though I’m still not really sure what my niche should be. Hearing the success stories of how some bloggers have managed to monetize their blogs to the point that they could quit their full time jobs has me wistfully yearning for the same. With few exceptions, there’s nothing I’d like more than to travel the states and abroad, living the life of a nomad without being tied down to a job that keeps me in one place. And wherever I went, I’d use my newfound freedom to try to help people. It was the kind of life I could only dream about.

Theoretically, such a life could be possible by being a professional blogger (or writer). But the problem with me is that I have nothing interesting to offer (which also explains why no woman wants me either). I don’t have the kind of material that could draw a large crowd, and I’m just not smart enough or creative enough to build content that could land me a sizable audience. The really sad thing is that I consider writing to be one of my better talents, and I still suck at it. Ugh.

I guess even after 30 years on this planet, I still don’t know who I am, what I like, what I should do, or what I’ve been made to do. This sense of helplessness and lack of purpose is what continues to fuel the suspicion that maybe I wasn’t meant to be born after all. But if I was, then the question remains: who am I? Am I a writer? A preacher? A musician? An actor? A lover? No…. definitely not a lover.

I guess hiding under a rock for most of my life has made me completely ignorant of what really matters to me. Maybe the more I put myself out there, the more I can come to know where my niche really lies.