Today I gave myself a huge headache by doing something a Philosophy graduate should not do: take an entrance exam for an entry level state job. Sitting in a room of 50+ humans, bubbling in circles on a scan-tron, and attempting to discern the correct answer for Business major type questions sent me over the line into full-fledged about to have an aneurism mode.
My mind has been hurting ever since.
As I laid on the couch contemplating my likely useless attempt at getting a “plain Jane” job during a short desire to “be like everyone else” and “keep up with the Jones’s,” I did what every good philosopher does: contemplate life.
Why did I do that? For the money, obviously. Then what? For what purpose? Is that really what I want to do? Isn’t it what we all want to do? If not, then what it is? Why are we here? Why am I here?
Well, clearly, not to file reports and be a good little secretary.
So then, what is it? A quarter of my life is spent, with a short span of fertility and youthful vitality left. There must be a purpose and meaning.
Far from a sorrowful contemplation. Today, a thinker’s pained head’s question by returning to the basics of it all, as a child:
What is the meaning of Life? Yours, humans in general, or LIFE in general. What does it all mean?