the loving god who makes us suffer.

you suffer, and yet there is no reason for it. that's what my friend typed to me over instant message last week, summing up life. it just doesn't make any sense. i'm presented with mouth-watering bacon cheeseburgers, succulent steaks, ice cream galore, and i'm told to stay away from it. it clogs arteries. that shit'll kill you. well, why's it here to begin with? and then there's women everywhere, good-looking ones, too, with their sunglasses and ponytails, perfect skin and bright smiles. and i don't know how to talk to any of them. i have absolutely nothing to say. that's just how life be, i suppose.

we talked today about the stigma of being unemployed. life really ain't fair. when you're not working, you feel useless, wish you were earning a buck, making a decent living and all that. and when you are working, you'll wish you were doing anything but. shit just doesn't add up. like my cousin right now, he gets to sleep in past noon, and he can do whatever the fuck he wants with all his days. me, i gotta be up in about seven hours, and then i gotta sit at my desk for another eight. i'll eat lunch at my desk, and i'll feel grateful when four o'clock rolls around. at the end of the day, i'll wonder, what the fuck is it that i've done today? and neither that thought nor the day itself is unique.

and there was that guy who played the dad on six feet under and on the bonus disc, he was talking about how death was miraculous. he said something like, he could just show up for work one day, a light might fall on him, and it would be all over, and isn't that just miraculous? i was thinking, no, that isn't miraculous. that fucking sucks. that's fucking tragedy, man, where's your head at? i don't want to die, but it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen to everybody, and how and when is all up to things beyond my control. and i like to be in control. the suspense is killing me.

there was a post on reddit the other day, and it was just a serious of questions. deep questions and not-so-deep questions like, why haven't you started that side-project yet? why haven't you asked her out? why are you so complacent? why aren't you getting more exercise? and you get the point. it was just question after question, aimed at all of us who aren't doing anything to make the world a better place, who aren't working toward our goals, or bettering ourselves or any of that shit. people like me, who are just living selfish lives of quiet desperation, or something like that.

so, supposedly there's this all-knowing being whom many refer to as god, and he's all-loving, but he makes it so that each and everyone of us suffer. many believe in this paradox, and i can see why. we all want to believe in something, anything, somebody, anybody. how good it must feel to be passionate about something. how good it must be to not have to be afraid. fear of h1n1, the economy, nuclear proliferation, environmental degradation, death, aging, losing, debt, natural and man-made disasters, all of that. victor frankl said we have to make our own meaning, but i'm not exactly sure what he meant by that.

maybe life isn't so much about doing what you want to do, but rather avoiding things you definitely don't want to do. networking and career-building and playing it safe. that last part is what my friend said. he looked at his resume and said, man, what a fucking joke. my whole life is a lie. all these years, and i've just been playing it safe. he can't get too down about it, though, and i've been trying to do the same. i try not take anything too seriously, too personally anymore. we could all benefit just by shaking it off and having a laugh.

we have to make our own meaning.

1 comment:

John McGuire said...

Shit is depressing man.