Before you speak, ask yourself, is it kind, is it necessary, is it true, does it improve on the silence? -Sathya Sai Baba

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

It doesn't improve on the silence

It's a bit like cutting a boil to let the pus out. I've got all this wet sick inside me and I have no idea what to do about it. It probably won't matter in a few days, once I'm back to myself, but I need to put it somewhere where it doesn't matter, where it can sit and fester in peace.

Here's the issue - why do anything? What is the meaning of life? What a stupid fucking cliche of a question, but there we are. So, since we're asking, I mean, I'm here, let's chat: what is the meaning, the purpose of life, what is the "Ultimate concern" that Tillich speaks of?

In the sermon this past Sunday, Fr. Murphy said that Jesus life could be summed up in one line: "He went about, doing good." Why do good? It makes others happy? One could say that it is the will of God that we be happy and free, that that is what he sent Jesus here for - to free the prisoner, heal the sick, liberate the oppressed. So say I go about doing good. Who's going to heal me? Who's going to free me? It keeps coming back to this - I'll do OK for a while and then feel terrible, and the truth is, I'm pretty sure that I don't work hard enough, I'm "work-shy" as the English term it. I don't want to work that hard. I don't want to do anything, most of the time.

UGH. I'm so fucking boring when I'm like this. I know what I need to do: work harder, try again, put in the time, but why? and for what? Music? Here is a fact: I could not play another note and the world would not be one bit different. Writing seems only purposeful (and apparently has been since 1983) for venting my spleen. I mean, I can't think of the last time I wrote with such flow and ease. All I really want to do is talk shit. Well here you, little wordsmith who lives in my brain: you get to talk as much shit as you want, right here. Just vomit to your heart's content.

Anyway, theology is a sucker's game, there's nothing I really want to/can do. I wish I could just give up, stop worrying, stop pretending there's something I need to do. I'm making myself sick with it, and I just want to stop, but if I stop, I'll end up exactly where I am now, only it'll be 5 years down the road, and I'll be even further behind than I am now.

My ambition coupled with my laziness is ruining my life.

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