April 20th, 2015

I was planning on writing about the parallels between habits and starting a fire, but the combination of being tired (working the 6pm to 6am shift), hungry, and awkwardly hit on in the laundry room for the past half an hour by a girl I'm not into has left me in a less than intellectual mood. Something's bubbling up inside of me—a familiar sort of dissatisfaction or itch if you will.

Say I become a captain. What does that really mean? What's my individual importance, my purpose, my drive to succeed, and what would success be?

I'm always caught up on this thought of purpose. Maybe in our temporary existence on this earth, there isn't much of a purpose for an individual. 100 years from now, 99% of us will be forgotten and gone. What lives on? Our children do, and in some way maybe we're an extension from some original branch, which might be significant. However, our thoughts, actions, and contributions can't really even hope to be footnotes in the book of time and space.

Eastern Philosophy seems to address these questions quite well and even calls my dilemma the miracle of life. Maybe I should look further into it?