Before my brother interrupted my quest to find happiness by harrassing my parents yet again, I was on a mission to find my bliss, chase my dreams, follow my higher purpose.

But I don't know what that is.

All I know is that while I enjoy creating order from disorder and cooking/meal planning and making sure my children are happy and healthy, it's not scratching whatever's itching me.

I'm hungry for something, but I don't know what it is. Just like when you're trying to decide what would soothe a food craving (ice cream sandwich? potato chips? chili dog?), I keep running through possibilities to see what makes me jump up and say, "That's it! THAT'S what I want!" Nothing does. None of my old childhood fantasies, like being an ace reporter or a fashion model/crusading lawyer or a pudding tester, seem to fit anymore.

Perhaps I should focus on things that bother me (outside of my brother, obviously; we've covered that already.) Like abused/neglected/undereducated/overexposed to violence/health-care deprived children. Maybe I'll start with an easy problem like that.