It’s been a decade now since I decided to move away from nearly everything and everyone I knew. And all I have learned is futility, despair, and endurance. Once you accept that there is very little meaning in everything while you are alive (and nearly if not entirely none after), you discover a choice between being happy and being miserable. Is it right to call it damnation if you are damned to be happy? Probably not. But still, it has a nice ring to it.
So now I slave away trying to finish my grad work in the humanities. I really should describe some of it on here. I never finished the last bit I worked on, but that’s fine by me as I am just too busy. As I write this, I should be writing a paper on soteriology in African traditional religions. But I have until midnight and plenty other to finish.
Yesterday marked my 31st year exploring the meaning of life. It also marks the first time that I haven’t had a candle on top of anything. There comes a point where you can’t stop to worry about such things. Working full-time and part-time and trying to not screw up as a dad… adding housework and school to the mix is one hell of a full schedule. At least I managed to finally finish listening through all of the Harry Potter books. (One thing I am thankful for is Audible….)
But that’s all the time I should take just now to bitch and moan. So I’ll just sit here with my little blonde pup and orange cat and keep reading. That paper can wait until the research is mostly complete.