Is there any meaning left in this world? No! Now shut it, you pansy. Alright. Stick with me though (and yes I promise not to use the word pansy anymore). I’m not going to get too deep here because no one wants to read that and I’m too much of an idiot. But I have been searching for meaning lately. Not religious horseshit or philosophical ideals (Kantian horseshit) but something uniquely meaningful to me. I don’t need something I can turn into a bumper sticker or anything, I just want my own personal truth. Or something obnoxious. So I search. Mostly at the bottom of a whiskey bottle, but really wherever I can find it. When you’re depressed and you think about how useless everything seems, how pointless trying things can be, how much it wouldn’t matter if you disappeared forever, you really start questioning things a lot. Then Robin Williams goes and offs himself and you tell yourself “Shit, if Mrs. Doubtfire can succumb to alcoholism and depression, I’m fucked.” I haven’t accomplished anything. He’s a fucking legend. I mean the dedication of that man to wear a fucking girdle everyday to see his lousy kids, and where’s the gratitude? That’s enough to depress you right there. Wait, I’m sorry, what the hell is a fictional character?

The passing of Robin Williams did seem to have huge affect on people for various reasons. Whether Aladdin or Hook were their favorite childhood movies, or they just loved how fucked up One Hour Photo was, or maybe they were like me and Good Will Hunting is their favorite film of all time. Re-tain-er. But hey, fuck it, actors die all the time. They mean almost nothing to us, and us less to them. Still they don’t usually choke themselves to death. And we don’t always see how similar we all are until they’re gone. It’s a good reminder to get help, because even if you won’t end up on the cover of magazines (yes people still read them in the MD office I think) or your passing won’t provoke random people to call, text, and tweet their “WTFs” to loved ones about your death, someone probably gives a shit about you. If you are reading this on a computer, I guarantee there is at least one person who cares if you die. Because they have already called dibs. Anyway, if no one does care, good thing you can use this computer to find someone who will. Your choices are endless, and they’ll probably only be mildly overweight.

Even before the passing of Pan the Man, I had started to question what really matters. The checklist starts easy enough: family, friends, significant others. But you can have the best people in the world in your life and I think for most people that still won’t be enough. Sometimes you can go on for years and get by, but it will catch up to you. Primarily because we spend too many hours at the office. Or whatever meaningless place where you slowly die work. You can tell yourself it doesn’t matter what you do for money because you write outside of work, or play in a band, or teach classes at the local gym, but we all just spend too much time at that one place. And if it’s the wrong place, it will bring you down. It’s important to have a job that makes a difference boys.

It’s pretty fucked up. They tell you to pick a career that is meaningful but they don’t tell you which ones because you need to find your own path. Of course, maybe that’s because those fuckers never could find the path themselves. I would gladly donate every bread crumb in my kitchen cabinet to the cause but it really wouldn’t help. And I’m getting hungry anyway. Everyone is fucking lost. I thought oh no I’m depressed, everything seems meaningless, especially my job. But even as you start to feel better…everything is meaningless all the same, no matter if you’re drinking alone in your bedroom or partying on a private fucking jet. Whether you’re a janitor or a famous pop star, you’re just pushing shit. Even if you’re indispensable at your company, your company sucks. If its not actively destroying the environment, society, or another more respectable company, it’s likely succeeding at convincing people to buy things they don’t need. Congrats. Unless you’re a Doctor or something health related that is keeping people alive your career is probably meaningless. And even then, don’t we have enough fucking people? There are billions too many people floating around the earth just looking for meaning. Most of them are terrible. Others are just as lost as me. Do we have to keep ALL of them alive?

But I can only solve my own problems. So what do I do? I know that I need to find something meaningful. Not just something with integrity, something that is challenging, some place that I can believe in. But it needs to make me happy. It’s not about changing the world or doing something worth remembering, because fuck everyone else. You’re all spaying cats or building warheads or adjusting claims and none of you give a shit how I feel. Or how the cats feel, or the people in other countries, or the old fuck who is too blind to drive safely anymore (But seriously have your pets spayed or neutered, thanks Bob). I don’t want to impress you, I just want to do something where I don’t text someone 20 minutes in to ask when the day is going to end. We’re all selfish, I’ll admit it. My search for meaning about me doing something for me. Which is the real problem with people advising you to find something meaningful All they have to do is come up with something that satisfies them and they still can’t. “I can’t tell you what’s best for you”. Of course you can’t, you prick, you can’t even tell me what’s best for you. Because it all sucks.

Maybe people really are satisfied after a long day of revenue projections. Maybe they are happy driving around a vehicle that cleans debris off the street, fixing someone’s exhaust, or answering phones for doctors that earn 10 times more than you but can’t handle simple software. There’s a benefit in keeping the streets swept (I think?), in keeping transportation running, and helping people do their jobs better. There’s meaning in getting impoverished teen mothers health insurance, listening to someone’s problems, and making sure elderly citizens are able to eat and take their medicine as well. But making a difference doesn’t mean it giving you peace of mind. I’m glad it does for some people, but it’s not the key for me. Maybe the key to finding meaning is just doing whatever makes you happy long enough to stop looking for it. Or maybe it’s street sweeping. I don’t fucking know.



2 thoughts on “Meaning?

  1. Pingback: Emergency Room Wish-list | dayolddoughnuts

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