Monday, February 18, 2008
Progress as a means to measure our lives.
Most people don’t seem to establish a reason, in itself, to live. A lot get by on other people putting responsibility on their shoulders. Children have to get good grades, adults need to pay off dental bills, and prostitutes better have their pimp’s money. This lifestyle is measured by progress. Everyday is another step towards something. People may not be sure what they’re working towards, but at least it’s getting closer to a desired goal (theoretically). This theory is a problem, because your goal can be destroyed or stomped on with ease. If a delivery man gets stuck in traffic, life is awful because his route is going to take longer. When a student graduates, there are no more grades to measure his or her worth. Basically, just about anyone can walk up to your dreams and kick them in the balls.
Oddly enough, the efforts of others to help or get in your way make this way of life more glorious. Their efforts essentially measure yours. If you try to have sex with as many women as possible, the disgust women show is a measure of your goal’s value. Despite women hating you for how you treat them, you’re still plowing eight of them a week.
I guess someone could make this means of life more adaptable by measuring their life by several standards of progress. Though, trying to avoid burning out may prove more difficult as a result.
My primary beef with this lifestyle is the fear of new things. Most people have to-do lists they never get around to doing. On the list are things like writing a novel or learning to dance. Why don’t they get around to the items on the list, my theory is progress. How is someone supposed to make enough progress in something they have no knowledge of to avoid looking foolish next to people who’ve danced or written for years? Some items on the list may be nearly impossible to make any progress with at all. Publishing a well received book is a freakin’ mystery to me. My twin, Tacolord, has been rejected as a writer by dozens of groups in several genres. Not even video game companies will respond to him. It’s gotten to a point that he’s doubting himself as a writer. Why? Because he’s made no progress. So what’s the alternative? Don’t ask me, I’m an absurdist.
Oddly enough, the efforts of others to help or get in your way make this way of life more glorious. Their efforts essentially measure yours. If you try to have sex with as many women as possible, the disgust women show is a measure of your goal’s value. Despite women hating you for how you treat them, you’re still plowing eight of them a week.
I guess someone could make this means of life more adaptable by measuring their life by several standards of progress. Though, trying to avoid burning out may prove more difficult as a result.
My primary beef with this lifestyle is the fear of new things. Most people have to-do lists they never get around to doing. On the list are things like writing a novel or learning to dance. Why don’t they get around to the items on the list, my theory is progress. How is someone supposed to make enough progress in something they have no knowledge of to avoid looking foolish next to people who’ve danced or written for years? Some items on the list may be nearly impossible to make any progress with at all. Publishing a well received book is a freakin’ mystery to me. My twin, Tacolord, has been rejected as a writer by dozens of groups in several genres. Not even video game companies will respond to him. It’s gotten to a point that he’s doubting himself as a writer. Why? Because he’s made no progress. So what’s the alternative? Don’t ask me, I’m an absurdist.
Labels: absurd., advice, awesome, Existentialism, happiness, maximumtacolord, philosophy, progress, self-help, taco, tacolord
# posted by MaximumTacolord @ 8:30 AM 
