Sometimes I feel guilty. I would describe the feeling as similar to the way many people felt in the days following the attacks of September 11, 2001. Things just didn’t seem as funny anymore, but we all came together. If asked, “Want to super-size?” we replied, “Only if you don’t mind.” For those few months, lending a helping hand wasn’t just courteous; it was compulsory. Selflessness was the status quo.

Gradually, these feelings abated. People promised themselves that they would “never forget” and moved on with their lives.

Some six/seven years later, here we are. Young men my age continue to die every week in Iraq because people were so ready to get back on the golf course and go to the beach that they unquestioningly accepted the first “solution” slid under their noses. The desire to have fun outweighed the desire for reason.

I have employed a weighted analogy in order to get your attention. I hold no ill will towards people for their desire to bury the past and move onward; however, if something as catastrophic as these attacks is still capable of eventually lulling people into a complacent stupor, it does not bode well for non-traumatic events and circumstances of equal or nearly-equal importance.

Politics aside, here are a few questions:

Can a good person travel, eat well, and sleep comfortably while knowing in the back of his/her mind that the money could be put to better use?

Are the fine arts an integral part of society or do they simply perpetuate the cycle of excessive self-development on the part of the performer and of slothful self-indulgence by the consumer?

Is it alright to have fun?

My inner-thespian is urging me enthusiastically to answer my questions, but I’m not interested in its bias at the moment. Spending your own money to visit new places and enjoy excellent art may seem like a god-given right, but I’m not so sure anymore. If you feel that way, fine, but the point of this article is to consider the ramifications of the pursuit of personal pleasure.

For those who have felt differently, you understand exactly where I’m coming from. You take a bite of some expensive gelato or finish that small chocolate that came with your coffee and suddenly there’s a strange, ubiquitous feeling in your body. You begin to ask yourself questions. Deep questions. The kind of questions that make you wish you could take back every 3rd helping you’ve ever gotten at dinner.

At first, it is easy to ignore; a basic shrug will do. “I earned this,” you tell yourself. Eventually, you find that your stalwart sense of entitlement isn’t as stable as you thought. You may find yourself thoroughly enjoying an activity and unexpectedly feel sick. “Why do I deserve this? Why am I one of the lucky ones? If there are so many people suffering on this Earth, how can I, someone who strives to be a selfless, kind, and caring person, permit myself to use the vast majority of my time and resources for my own development and leisure?”

I’m still searching for the answer to this. What is the proper balance, if any? We’re all in this together - what are we supposed to do?

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