shadows of echoes of memories of songs

Mnn. My brain splits three ways. The part that wants to suggest they're being disoganised, and anyway you're underestimating your skillset, and encourage you to chase them up; the part that gets grumpily philosophical, to the tune of this being an immensely complicated world in which things to do with one's life can turn up in all manner of unexpected guises, as most lives I'm familiar with do eventually show, and that money measures nothing other than itself and is a really bad metric for almost everything else [ cost is not the same thing as value; Google gives me no hits on "metric of eudemony", in the event that reading practical/philosophical/organisational stuff is a thing you find cheerful you want to look up Stafford Beer's Designing Freedom, which has sort of helped me deal with the universe when I'm in vaguely similar useless moods ] and don't underestimate the value which other people may attach to your presence in their lives, because basically, if I like you, you don't really have the right to downgrade that judgement - and also that anyone who calls you a useless sponger isn't speaking with your best interests at heart and the validity of their opinion as a guide should be downgraded thereby; and the part that just wants to curl up around you and hug you and offer to adopt you.