a subjective observation

every time an opportunity--for conviviality, economic stability, right livelihood, whatever-the-eff rambunctious semi-adventure--appears, i have a burst of energy that is, all too often, not commensurate with the opportunity. often, my enthusiasm is utterly unwarranted, and is squandered as a result. it's like electrifying an inanimate object and expecting it to come to life in a unique way, only to see and smell it melting/burning/vaporizing. i become exhausted, and might even feign indignation, but the problem is entirely my own.