Apathy

At some point, you just have to ask what the point really is.

What's the point of writing this blog? Is it just a hole through which my feelings and meaningless comments can escape into the world? Does it really do anything? Does anyone care? Meh.

Perhaps its just adrenaline/epinephrine/testosterone withdrawal from paintball, or the fact that I have a presentation due in two days that I don't give crap about, because I worked so hard for a letter that won't matter in a few weeks, or months, or even years. But it just seems that only the pointless has a point. We love the pointless. The American people work in order to play, and usually end up treating play as work. No one gives a crap about important things, except those who actually feel as if they need it. We love games. We stake our money on whether a horse will cross the line first, or if the score of two professional teams will fall within a certain range. And everybody watches tv, right? Is this a problem? Perhaps not, at least, for now. But eventually, we will get up out of our couch, seat, cushion, or bed, by circumstance or by admitting we have a disease, and face the things that will last much longer than a hormonal rush.

(No, i'm not quitting this blog)