I couldn't sleep last night, so I headed to the study lounge with a book and a glass of water. Hugh Prather's Notes to Myself is a fantastic collection of anecdotes and life lessons. The following excerpt particularly moved me.

I have recently noticed that many times each day I take a quick mental survey of my activities up to that point in the day in order to determine my direction. This mental activity is spontaneous, almost subconscious, and seems inherent. If my activities do not add up to a direction then I am at least slightly depressed and enervated. If for some reason I feel at that moment incapable of heading in a "good" direction then I sense a desire within me to head in a destructive direction: for example, to go, really go, to pot. Any direction seems decidedly preferable to no direction at all. This may be one of the causes of violence, destructive love affairs, alcoholism, etc. A "goal" is implied but the need seems to be for direction -- to feel in the process of becoming.