So during one of my Psyc labs this week, we had to fill out yet another tedious questionnaire about the meaning of life. Anyway, while trying to choose a number to represent how I felt about my search for meaning, it dawned on me that I'm no longer particularly fussed about having a purpose/ some driving force/ greater meaning to my life. I used to be quite horribly tormented by it, i.e. it would delay my sleep by sometimes an hour *gasp* - I jest, you know what I mean.
Doing horrible commerce subjects and walking out of classes with a far deeper understanding of Pink Floyd's brick in the wall analogy than I would wish on even people I dislike, there was a constant feeling of unease. This is back when everything was mapped out in with a large amount of certainty: internship -> part time job -> grad job -> career. All I had to do was plod along accordingly, which I was doing with a restlessness under the skin, between organs somewhere deeper than scratch-able depth.
Now, I haven't a clue where my life is headed, got a weeiiirrd combination of degrees that may or may not work out and may or may not be able to get me hired at the end, and I've never felt more secure about life in general and self in particular.
I haven't really found Purpose in my life, but I'm finding the present too enjoyably satisfying to be looking for it as such. It'll turn up one day when I least expect it and surprise me. Or maybe not turn up at all and that might actually be okay!
How WW2 Led To WW3
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