Pointless is as Pointless Does

Thank you to Unconscious Mutterings, week 229, for providing the prompts which I have used to make no meaningful point whatsoever.

Compatibility  ::  My new laptop and my old printer. 

Not a good combination.  For these two to work together, apparently the printer needs to be upgraded, reconfigured, thrown away, replaced, de-fragmented, ignored, or altogether abandoned.  Personally, I'm leaning toward abandonment.  That would be the easiest answer, for sure, which makes it pretty clear that maybe I haven't done such a great job at figuring out the whole computer/high-tech thing. 

Pursuit  ::  Of happiness.

Who is ever happy?  It seems to me, our proclivity toward complaining has reached a new all-time high.  Or low, depending on your point of view.  All winter long, we complain about the cold.  All summer long, we complain about the heat.  When it is raining, we complain about the wet.  When it is sunny, we complain that it's too dry and our plants are wilting.  When we are in relationships, we complain that our partners are driving us nuts.  When we are out of relationships, we complain that we're dying of loneliness.  When I am in school, I complain that I'm too busy.  When I'm out of school, I complain that I'm not challenged, and too bored, and fall into a my-writing-sucks hole.  So where in all this is the pursuit of happiness?  I'll tell you where.  It's in the complaining.  We love to complain.  The more we pursue a life of complaint, the happier we are, which doesn't seem right to me.  Am I missing something?  Perhaps I haven't really figured out the whole pursuit of happiness thing after all.

Fake  ::  Tan.

I used to love that healthy sun-kissed glow.  Today I study everyone who wears it with a critical, condescending, pseudo-authoritative eye.  Fake or real, I wonder.  If I think it's real, I am filled with unmitigated admiration for the courage of the person to go au naturel.  If it is obviously chemically induced, I pat myself on the back for my superior knowledge and ability to remain in-the-know.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I probably couldn't spot the difference between a fake and a real tan if it walked up and whooped me upside the head.  Somehow I suspect I haven't done such a fabulous job of figuring out the whole tanning thing after all. 

Oh, well.  Maybe you can figure it all out.  Good luck with that, and have a great weekend.

From Louise