The Perpetual Search For The Absurd

Have you ever just looked up into the night sky, and felt completely lost? I mean I'm just an insignificant human, slowly atrophying on an insignificant rock in an ever-expanding universe.

The day I realised this changed my perspective on everything. Life is simpler before this aphorism catches up with you. And have no doubts, it has always been there. Ever since you were safely inside your mother's womb, sharing everything with her, there was a seed developing in the centre of your mind, just waiting to be nourished. It was developing just as surely as your arms and your legs and your fingernails. It thrives on your insecurity -- the umbillical cord is severed, your parents force you to leave their safe hands and fend for yourself in school, your peers tease you because you have yet to experience your first kiss, somebody close to you dies for the first time -- and it grows and grows until one day your apprehension blossoms, and you're left lost and empty and wondering why your heart stubbornly keeps beating.

So with this knowledge firmly to the forefront of your mind, how can you possibly still function as society demands? How can I get out of bed in the morning and go to sleep at night knowing that anything I have achieved in the interim has done nothing but brought me a day closer to death? Should I simply put a gun to my head and write off my life as a cruel joke? Perhaps. But consider the effect your death would have on those closest to you. Does the fact that your friends and family would be crushed if you die then, by proxy, provide a meaning to your life? Can living for the sake of others be classified as 'living'?

Many people turn to religion to provide meaning to their lives. Only fear of death and the need for meaning could drive otherwise rational people to believe in an invisible dictator in the sky. Some extremists are even so determined to find significance in their lives that they are willing to kill and die for it. Religion must be a comfort when a loved one dies, or indeed when you yourself are close to death. However, from an atheist's point of view, I would prefer to live my life knowing that when it's over, it's over, instead of living in blissful ignorance.

The author and philosopher Albert Camus developed a philosophy called Absurdism. Camus argues that yes, life is devoid of meaning, but it is through the acceptance of this fact that one becomes free. Once you embrace it, you are free to create your own meanings in life. It is not necessary to take all of this as one concrete philosophy. I like to extract the bits that make sense to me, and mix them with my own ideologies and life experiences. You create your own unique ideals; you decipher universals subjectively and thus through your own unique set of values, you have achieved both freedom and meaning in your life.

Learning to Drive

Dad took me for a driving lesson today. It was one of those rare occasions when we were alone together without the menial distractions of television or radio drowning out the awkwardness and with it, any chance of conversation.

We were on some standard Irish back road parallel to the motorway and we were making our way home. Dad asked me to pull over and stop the car. This was routine so I did what I was told and stopped in a gateway to a field. There was a canopy of branches intertwining overhead and it was darker here.

"I want you to promise me something."

Oh Jesus. A deep meaningful conversation with Dad -- they invariably end in a vitriolic religious debate or with me inappropriately laughing for no reason (although apparently it is an actual medical condition! The world is pretty fucked if even laughing is classified as an illness).

"Promise me you'll stop smoking."

Now, at this point I'd like to clarify that I am not a smoker -- not a habitual one at least. I might have one or two in the night if I'm having a particularly bad day. I get pretty wound up sometimes.

"I've already lost two people in my family to cancer."

Okay, fair enough, they were two dark periods in our lives. But he doesn't understand. Smoking is actually quite an important part of my life. I like going outside in the depths of the night and catching up with my old friends. We ruminate upon the day that has just past and consider the larger picture. The moon is quite an intellectual, you know.

I can't seem to do this without a cigarette in my hand. It's probably due to my short attention span, or Freud's theory on oral fixation, or both. But it's mainly because it relaxes me and slows my thoughts down enough that I can reach out and pick one from my mind and dissect it. I like to turn it around, study it from every angle. To really understand an idea or a thought you have to learn everything about it; become friends with it; learn what makes it tick; learn what it hates, who it loves. When I'm not outside smoking my thoughts race by too quickly and I don't have the time nor the energy to catch one. Sad, perhaps, but I haven't yet learnt to control my thoughts. I'm just one guy, struggling in a sea of consciousness, trying not to drown. I'm waiting for a passing boat to spot me and pull me aboard.

Dad's hand felt smaller and coarser than I remembered. There was no laughter this time. I shook it, and made a promise.

Please allow me to introduce myself: I'm a man of wealth and taste.

Hello, my name is Jack. I'm new to this blogging thing, but I said I'd give it a go; don't be surprised if my first post is my last, I tend not to stick with things once I start them.

Anyway, a bit about myself perhaps. I'm a very lazy man, not particularly good at anything, and very anti-social (not in the ASBO sense - although I did once light a candle in the church without putting money in the box). My needs are simple and easily fulfilled: give me air to breath, food to eat, and a bag of drugs and I'm a happy man; I don't actually do drugs, but I'm trying to sound cool. Maybe replace the drugs with a season of Frasier and I'm as happy as a blogger on cocaine.

Inside my head is a funny old place; it's not the happiest head, but it's mine. This is my head. There are many like it but this one is mine...

I'm not quite sure what to do with this blog, to be honest. I may use this one as a platform for emo ranting, and then perhaps set up a second one to blog quotes, music, photos etc.; or should one combine the two into one super-blog? Hmm...only time will tell - you must be very excited.

And yes, I am fully aware that nobody is reading this...