This ain't Monty Python's Meaning of Life.

The way I see it, or from the unbiased point of view I'm trying to see it from, the purpose of life is to pursue that question of "what is the purpose of life?" Depending on what you believe, it's probably something along the lines of pleasing a greater being, God. This works, because it is a purpose that cannot be fulfilled untill death, or untill we stop wanting to please God, in which case our lives purpose becomes pleasing ourselves. If you are an evolutionist, then pretty much your only purpose is to die and hope that your spawn have the heads of dinosaurs or something, I don't even know. Although, that would be pimpin' on a whole new level. If people didn't ask questions, we wouldn't have to think about the "purpose of life," and people would live life instead of wonder about it.

Since we are chasing this evasive question, we assume that there is an answer. Is there really a purpose to life? As a human being, probably not. I was born, I will live for a small while, and then I'll die, fertilize some dirt, something like that, tons of fun, eaten by maggots. But honestly, if you don't already have a purpose written out somewhere *cough* the Bible/Quran/Book of Mormon/Skymall *cough* then you're probably doomed to just look under leaves and whatnot.

"Oh leaf, why was I put here on earth?"
*rustle rustle*
"Should I be taking notes?"
*rustle*
"Oh I'm sorry great leaf! I didn't mean to anger you!"

His name is Russel. He's angered by the fact
that you're taking notes on his brethren.

Yeah, something like that. Do you have a purpose for living? Christians: yes, God put you here to do his bidding and whatnot. Deists: no, God left you here like an unwanted baby at an orphanage. Evolutionists: no, you were an accident, you're also like an unwanted baby, but you werent even put into an orphanage; you're the Sasquatch of the universe. Atheists: sure. In the (paraphrased) words of Dane Cook, you get to live, die, turn into a tree, then be chopped down by a sweaty lumberjack, turned into paper, and have the Bible printed on you. Do you even believe there is a purpose to life? You confuse me on a voluminous level. Congratulations. Muslims: yes! You are to spread the words of Mohammed el Prophet and kill those pesky infidels. Or, if you choose to believe that the whole of Islam isn't a radical terrorist group, you can just live out life and wait for your 72 virgins. Catholics: you are to follow Cathol and all his teachings (source: Eddie Izzard). Also, you have lots of nice orphanages (but not for Deists and Evolutionists.)


* Note: I know very little, and I realize this. However, if you still feel inclined to remind me, I welcome it with open arms. Also, I wrote this when I was like, fourteen, and edited very little. It's probably nor so good.

Class: unrelated to desired career. (for the time being?)

The other day I was trying to think of a way to get myself motivated for high-school Chemistry (which for some reason is taught out of a college level textbook?). Understandably, I had some difficulty. One solution I came up with was that I'd think to myself "every time I go into Chemistry class, I am a chemist!" And then I remembered that the only kind of chemist I'd ever be interested in is this kind. I got to thinking about my other classes as well, and my careers didn't match up with anything I'm really interested in.

• Every time I walk into Chemistry class, I'm a chemist.
• Every time I walk into Biblical Exegesis, I'm a Biblical scholar.
• Every time I walk into Government class, I'm a politician.
• Every time I walk into Anatomy class, I'm a physical therapist.
• Every time I walk into Greek class, I'm a scholar.
• Every time I walk into Algebra II class, I'm a failure.
• Every time I walk into Literature class, I'm in a book club.
• Every time I walk into History class, I'm a historian.

Is there any way we could have a sign language class? Or maybe I should just drop out and join ROTC. The military could be a good career. Admittedly, being a physical therapist wouldn't be too bad. If I was one, however, I'd want to work with injured soldiers, helping them regain a little bit of their civilian lives after suffering a serious ouchie. That'd be cool. And sign language, that's always been a dream of mine. Think maybe it could count as a language credit? Spanish is practical, but sign is elite; I'd be able to fit in with all the cool deaf kids.

Don't get me wrong, I love all most some of my classes just for kicks. Greek class is the flea's sneeze (it's like the cat's meow, but not). I just don't know if the schedule that's available is really an optimal use of my time based on what I want to do in life.

Has anyone ever seen Accepted? (It had Jonah Hill playing a fat idiot before he was a really famous fat idiot). I wouldn't suggest it, it's an awful movie. But it raises a good point that when people have the option to pick classes that they would enjoy immensely, they can draw learning out of some pretty crazy places. For instance, a bunch of skateboarders are studying applied physics by calculating equations about force and gravity and mass and all that good crap to see if a trick is possible, and then they're just like "dude" and they go out there and do sick flips and junk. Sitting in a classroom doing physics = whack. Spending half the class on a half-pipe doing tricks you just invented using physics = awesome.

Just a thought.

Fat, hilarious, famous idiocy.

Honestly, it sounds like a hunting manual to me.

In my life there have been more than one but less than a few things that have completely confounded me; things that after looking into almost every option possible I still sit and obsess of what the mystery truly is. Not even the great enigma that is woman have I allowed to consume too large a portion of my time (although it has indeed, and a portion larger than I'm willing to admit). I probably wont ever fully understand them, and honestly, I'm okay with that. I love all my friends, male and female, equally (exceptions being my besties, whom I love more than average.)


I even found the elusive Kyle.


But this thing... this book that I've been assigned to read in my Christianity in Literature class (or as my poor teacher unwittingly puts on our absentee sheets, C. Lit) has been mentioned throughout my life, and I'm sensing some sort of government conspiracy. I remember distinctly three different occasions that I've inquired "what is this book about?" and for every time I asked, there's a huge blank spot in my memory.


What is this great riddle, you ask? This is truly the single most unsolvable thing since someone asked "why are these people so amazing!?" about Mumford and Sons. This conundrum is none other than the higly acclaimed book To Kill a Mockingbird.

I read the back of the book, trying to get a general idea of what this "great literary piece" was about. "The unforgettable novel of a childhood in a sleepy, Southern town and the crisis of conscious that rocked it." Wait, the crisis rocked the childhood or the sleepy town? And the story is about a childhood? I probably couldn't write two interesting paragraphs about my childhood.

"Compassionate, dramatic, and deeply moving, To Kill a Mockingbird takes readers to the roots of human behavior - to innocence and experience, kindness and creulty, love and hatred, humor and pathos." I thought this was about some kid, not a philosopher. Here, this part really gets me. "Harper Lee always considered her book to be a simple love story." A love story... a kid love story? Maybe it's about a philosophical child's first crush. How cute!

I asked a couple of my friends what the book was about, and most of the replies went something along these lines. "It's a really interesting book. It's not about just one thing though. It's about like... everything. You know? It's an everything book. You'll just have to read it yourself."

I still was unsatisfied.

Turning to the ever-trustworthy Wikipedia, I found myself incredibly... not informed at all on a plot. "The story takes place during three years of the Great Depression  in the fictional "tired old town" of Maycomb, Alabama. The narrator, six-year-old Scout Finch, lives with her older brother Jem and their widowed father Atticus, a middle-aged lawyer. Jem and Scout befriend a boy named Dill who visits Maycomb to stay with his aunt for the summer." Sounds riveting. "The three children are terrified of, and fascinated by, their neighbor, the reclusive "Boo" Radley. The adults of Maycomb are hesitant to talk about Boo and, for many years, few have seen him." Hey, wait a minute, we could be getting somewhere here. Maybe a scary ghost story, or some mystery about the house? "The children feed each other's imagination with rumors about his appearance and reasons for remaining hidden, and they fantasize about how to get him out of his house. Following two summers of friendship with Dill, Scout and Jem find that someone is leaving them small gifts in a tree outside the Radley place. Several times, the mysterious Boo makes gestures of affection to the children, but, to their disappointment, never appears in person." Yup yup! I'm feelin' a juicy suspense scene where the kids break into the house to try to learn some secrets about this guy named Boo. He's even got a ghost name! BoooOOoOooooOooo Raaaaaadleeeeey.

"Atticus is appointed by the court to defend Tom Robinson, a black man who has been accused of raping a young white woman, Mayella Ewell. Although many of Maycomb's citizens disapprove, Atticus agrees to defend Tom to the best of his ability. Other children taunt Jem and Scout for Atticus' actions, calling him a "nigger-lover". Scout is tempted to stand up for her father's honor by fighting, even though he has told her not to. For his part, Atticus faces a group of men intent on lynching Tom. This danger is averted when Scout, Jem, and Dill shame the mob into dispersing by forcing them to view the situation from Atticus' and Tom's points of view." Oh, wait... what? There wasn't even a transition between these. Did they forget about the creepy guy named Boo? He's way more interesting than the judicial system! I don't know, maybe it's just me who thinks that...

Man, I just can't seem to find one steady plot for this book! I know there has to be one. My literature teacher always told me that you have to have a plot to make a good story, among other things like character development. Surely this "great American classic" has some sort of awesome plot. I must just be missing it.

Hark! What light through yonder window breaks! Finally, after hours of searching, I've found a wonderful explanation of the plot. You see, it is about Boo Radley! He's actually a pirate, who needs the assistance of the children to kill a giant robotic mockingbird. And there are pirates, and bears, and other such literary devices! I really can't stay to explain it to you, because I'm so jubilant about getting to read this book that I think I'm going to go and start it right now! Here's the full explanation of the book for you guys. As a matter of fact, if you don't feel like reading it, I bet this is in-depth enough that you can just watch it and not have to worry about reading it at all.

I'm here to talk about... men?

So I figured that the female readers out there could use a little bit of reading material that was directed more towards them, instead of just me raving about what men like. I'd write it myself except for 1: I have no idea what I'd write about, 'cause like, I'm a guy, and 2: somebody else already did it for me.

So without further a-do, I give you this wonderful article about men, and why we do what we do.

http://artofmanliness.com/2010/05/09/scarcity-luxury-and-proving-ones-manhood/