Of course you’re not satisfied.  If you were satisfied, you’d do nothing.  Satisfaction is the enemy of action – insofar as satisfaction would bother lifting a finger to do anything as active as being  an enemy.

The more dissatisfied a creature the harder it will work to become satisfied.

Hunger is a dissatisfaction that keeps me alive.

I’d like to be more satisfied than my current situation allows for.  That’s the trap though, isn’t it?  When will my current situation allow for it?  Today? Tomorrow?  A year from now?  Ten years from now?

Hard work can be incredibly satisfying.  It’s meaningless hard work that strangles my soul.  Dilbert.  Soul crushing.  The Office.  Soul crushing.  These are the stories from which we draw our protagonists.

I want to build something.  I want to build something so badly that I really really love that IKEA piece of crap I put together last Christmas.  I got it on sale after Thanksgiving.

I create nothing… No, I create something worse than nothing.  I create email.

So pretty much it’s us, bees, beavers, Mick Jagger,  termites, and basically all the other social bugs, that share the medal for least satisfied creatures.  And none of us is happy that there’s just one medal.