Had Only I Listened
The absurd is born of this confrontation between the human need and the unreasonable silence of the world.
I've been procrastinating about growing up for a great many years now. Today I officially concede defeat and hereby acknowledge I'm most definitely not getting any younger. I'm irked by this state of affairs. For a few moments I considered having a midlife crisis, and maybe a fling or two, but I don't have nearly enough in savings to do either in proper style. I'll have to settle for a midlife strategy of some sort.
I'm not sure what that strategy will look like yet. Maybe cut out nightcaps on weeknights. Start a regular program of light exercise (wouldn't want to hurt myself). Eat a little healthier (this is difficult on account of my fussy digestive organs which reject wholesome foodstuffs). Meditate more often. Improve my sleep hygiene. Those sorts of things. The idea is to forge sustainable habits likely to mitigate the impacts of aging.
Then there is the matter of the meaning of life, the universe, and everything. Why are we here and so on? Personally, I don't know that it matters. If The Universe has some master plan that we're all supposed to pitch in and help out with, then The Universe ought to cough up the details. What's the point in being coy? Mysterious ways is a narrative cop out and lazy writing.
I'm not a Nihilist. I'm an Absurdist doing planks. But not for much longer.