Purpose

I cannot say that there has never been a time in my life in which I felt that my life had some greater meaning. Like so many people I would hear things in a song or see something in a movie that I felt spoke to me. As though some higher being was trying to reach me, trying to tell me to do something, guide me in the right direction. But as I’ve grown older I fell that I’ve grown wiser. In the past few years I have come to believe that life has no one certain meaning. No one persons’ life is bound to go in any certain direction. Life is ultimately what you make it. I’ve begun to cringe with disapproval when I hear people utter the phase “well, everything happens for a reason, right?” To me these are the words of someone who doesn’t quite know how to deal with defeat. I do not place myself on a pedestal on which I don’t wish this fallacy to be reality, but I have decided that belief in this thought is pure selfishness, complete irresponsibility for ones actions. I do not intend to make it seem like life has no meaning, only that the meaning of life is an empty page at birth, and becomes filled throughout a lifetime. Just like you cannot know an authors purpose for writing a book until you have read it, one cannot know the true purpose of his or her life until he or she has lived it. Only when hindsight becomes twenty-twenty does the meaning of a person’s existence becomes visible. I just can’t seem to make myself level with this idea that there is some guy in heaven watching my every move. Making sure nothing bad happens to me. What in the world would ever make me worthy of a guardian angel? As much as I would like to be a normal guy who prays before bedtime every night, I just can’t convince myself that a god exists. And even if he does then why would he help me? Why should he care what happens to me? Not to sound like somewhat of a cock but I don’t need him. If there is some almighty force out there that can make sure that all the little African children get tucked in tonight, well then you know what? It really wouldn’t bother me if my car didn’t start this morning in exchange. Weather or not my actions are pre-determined or not, I can only live by the assumption that my actions result in consequences and I’ll be there to meet those consequences when they do.

Maple Ave.

For some reason its small details that show me that time really is moving forward. As made my way home on my skateboard a few weeks ago after delivering my belated graduation thank-you's I noticed that the street I was on was not the familiar street it once was. Maple Ave. was beginning to weather. Its previously smooth surfaces were starting to crack and wrinkle like an aging face. This was the street that had taken me to and from school, McDonald's, and meetings with friends countless times in previous years. In those days Maple's pavement was new enough that I could do a trick over each crack on my way home from middle school and make it there in ten or fifteen minuets. But on this day if I had popped my board over each crack it would have taken me hours to get home. Though Maple Ave. made me realize that day that it isn't just it that has changed significantly since those days...we both have.