Rings and Rings

I am wading. For twenty minutes or so i was lost with no tether, no shore and no preserve. This is what was passing through the fog as I stared at my desk tonight. ultimately it is either malaise or a pathetic middle class boredom. Some might know it as the luxury of worry. I know it as my life. A day that is composed of selfish and trite concerns is a luxury that has been dearly bought in this land. I worry about money (an easy target i know) in terms of lack of excess as opposed to lack of actual provision. I worry about eating too much. I worry about dust on my dash board. It is a luxurious life and i am starting to realize how infectious the luxury of worry can be. I see it in my friends. In strangers. In my family. It is a luxury that we take for granted and most would never even consider it a luxury at all, but a right or an entitlement. How can it be a considered a luxury to worry? Is it not a luxury to worry about jeans? To want an enormous home? To hate the way someone drives? Is it not a luxury to elevate personal tics, habits and desires to a fetishistic level? Have i fetishized my own existence?It is frustrating to say the least. Where is the escape hatch? I am thinking of a friends concept of being released from the dead end that is our own personal trivia. I am thinking he is right. Actually caring about someone or something besides myself seems to be the only point of departure.