life is beautiful

Fight Club has pushed the question “What is the meaning of life?” in my face and has given me a rude awakening. Not like this question hasn’t been forcefully and annoyingly tugged at me before, but I go through phases where this questioning moves into the back of my mind, sitting there comfortably, and then some time later, it moves to the forefront, kicking and screaming, wanting me to pay attention to it like an annoying spoiled little brat that deserves to be slapped.

Why do we buy shit we don’t need? In the movie, Tyler Durden says, “The things you own ends up owning you.” I dare you to find words that hold more truth than that. What’s ironic is that this post is being written on my iPhone. This sexy piece of technology gives me access to the world, all with the simple touch of my fingertips. But it’s wrapped these cold, heavy chains around me and has me trapped and who knows if I’ll ever get out. Why couldn’t I just have written this on my computer anyway? Well because it’s so goddamn easy, it’s all in the palm of my hand. Also, my computer is on sleep mode and I’m too lazy to turn it on and wait for it to load, that’s why. And it would just be as ironic to write this rambling rant on my computer because I’m just as much a slave to it as I am to my phone. I love being ironic, it’s fun. Most of us are slaves to our technology, slaves to the material shit we buy. We are consumerist zombies, corporate slaves, stupid, empty beings that destroy our own souls through willful participation in mindless activities such as watching a bunch of trashy, shameless, despicable, self-proclaimed guidos drink, fight and fuck once a week on our television sets. We spend hours upon hours upon hours playing video games, shooting each other and trash-talking during those addictively fun online multiplayer games. We spend hundreds of dollars going on day trips with our friends to shop in a city that we view as more fun, more vibrant, more fashion-forward than our own, a city that is conveniently only two or three hours away. This is what we view as adding meaning and excitement to our lives, spending money on clothes to play dress-up so that we can feel good about ourselves. We hope to impress the people around us with our trendy and sexy fashion sense. How nice.

What’s the point of it all? Being born, going to school, getting a degree, getting a job and making that comfortable and sought-after $80,000/year? Do you ever look in the mirror and ask yourself, Who are you? What are you doing here? Perhaps the more important question is, Who the fuck cares? We’ve all spent years in school, sitting in class, listening to the teacher drone on and on about shit you don’t give a fuck about, hell, they probably don’t even give a fuck about what they’re saying. We’re all wasting away in our chairs sitting in a classroom we don’t want to be in. Maybe that’s too much of a generalization, some people love learning boring shit. I like learning too, but 95% of my teachers over the years clearly don’t understand the concept that learning should be fun, engaging and stimulating. They talk and talk and you listen. And I ask, once again: Who.The.Fuck.Cares. 

You’re not special, don’t kid yourself. I’m not special, either. There’s another one of Tyler Durden’s messages that rings loud and clear inside your head. We are all just sacs of meat trudging along on the earth and then we die. Doesn’t matter how rich you are (or aren’t), it doesn’t matter what status you hold, we all die and when we do, we become a part of it, composting in the ground. It’s the circle of life, man. 

So folks, keep your head high, be positive and move forward, because in life, there are endless possibilities and limitless beauty, your eyes just have to be hungry enough to find it.

hey you

Persistence.
Persistence.
Persistence.
Don’t give up.
Persistance.
Persistence.
Persistence.
Persistence.
Don’t give up.

rambling

it’s that time again…i question my existence, wonder what the hell i’m doing and why i’m doing it…no, don’t feel sorry for me, this is all apart of becoming an adult and finding out who the fuck you are…eat, sleep, drink, read, work, go to school, talk, hang out, laugh then cry…same shit different day, or same shit different smell…trying to be different, like really different, actually different, be somebody new…not new like somebody else or being phony, being new as in feeling new and rejuvenated and alive, like taking a deep breath and loving the smell, even if there is none…so until i figure it out, i’m just gonna find things to do and then do them.

— Hugh MacLeod