My life doesn't have a direction or purpose. I have no goals. No plans. No means of achieving my ends. I have a job, but I don't consider it much of a career. I have a home, and a family, and a few good friends.

 

I just don't know what the hell I'm doing, or why.

 

I think part of the problem is not that I'm asking myself what the hell am I doing, but simply that I don't much care. I don't really have a cause, or a passion. Sometimes I wish I cared about trees and whales and stuff like that. Those people have purpose and direction. And when are they ever going to look at the situation and say "There, it's done, I've completed my work and can rest easy."? Face it, there will never be enough trees or whales to satisfy those folks.

 

But I just can't muster up any passion for those things. I mean, I think it would be a bad thing if there were no trees or whales left, I guess, although on second thought I seriously have to question how I would even notice if there were no whales left. I don't want the earth to become a radioactive wasteland, I don't want drunk drivers on the streets, it's just that I can't think of a situation bad enough to make me want to form an organization whose initials spell a word or take up a placard and march outside some government office. And if there was a problem that bad, I would have to question how effectively any government agency would be able to deal with it.

 

And so here I kind of sit, not caring, writing long rambling pieces about Aquaman and Skittles. What kind of life is this? What kind of man am I? In 100 years...in even ten years...who's going to care one way or the other whether I lived or died?

 

 

It's not like I want a lot of possessions. A big house would mean more work and worry. A nice car would need to be washed and waxed all the time. Expensive things get stolen all the time. Who needs it?

 

It's not like I want to achieve great things. That would require dedication, hard work, and patience. I don't think I have any of those in particular abundance. It would also mean less alcohol, television, and sleep. I don't think I'm cut out to be great.

 

I guess some people find meaning in making others happy. I reckon I could do that, except that, like everything else, it's such hard work. You can't just make someone happy and go away, it's something you have to keep on doing and doing. And not that that's a waste of time or anything, but there's usually not a lot of money in it and sooner or later you're going to have to go out and get a real job. I don't think that making people happy is the way to go, at least for me.

 

I think what I really want is to be able to look at myself in the mirror and say "What the hell am I doing?" and just have the answer already, without having to change or improve or work or set goals or seek meaning or have passion or purpose.

 

Every once in a while I still do it, though. I ask myself, What the hell am I doing? What's it all about? Why am I here?

 

And then I remind myself that I don't really care, there's really no way to answer any of those questions satisfactorily, and life is much simpler anyway when you don't ask them. I mean, I think everybody ought to just live their lives, work their jobs, raise their kids, and stop looking for meaning in everything. When you do that, you tend to miss out on things. You get so busy wondering what everything means that you forget to do any living.

 

Maybe I'm just ignorant and apathetic. I don't know, and I really don't care.