What is wrong with not having a goal in life? Or setting an unattainable achievement? Does this attitude negate your point to life and label you a failure?
These questions have been rattling around my head since the conversation with my house-mate last night. So much so that I have gone for a run and showered and had breakfast by 10am! We were discussing our various backgrounds and how apparently I have yet to cut the apron strings... If only my parents could have heard him! I know that that discussion would have bypassed heated to roasting.
I acknowledge as humbly as I possibly can that I have been very fortunate throughout my life. I have taken note of my behaviour and I accept the fact that my train-wreck attitude has got out of control and needs to be harnessed (unlike Miley Cyrus I hope to God that I
can be tamed). I have had to come to terms with my lackadaisical approach to work and employment and even with my own goals in life. What I refuse to accept is that my life is pointless.
Watching The Green Mile the other night with said house-mate I candidly remember screeching, 'his life is pointless' about the character Percy, during the electrifying death of prisoner Del. I had to then explain to my house-mate who, not quite defended Percy's actions but at least his point to life. His argument was that Percy had achieved goals in his life, he had 'done something' with it, even if it included his inhumane treatment of the inmates of death row. I on the other hand said that your career doesn't define your point to life and that anyone else could have done his job and to a higher degree of satisfaction. This character, in my eyes, had no right to life because of his cruelty and the world would be better off without him.
Unfortunately my house-mate has this uncanny ability to make you doubt yourself and my argument was quickly dissipated by his eloquence (he should really consider achieving a career in politics), but after the the rather more drunken, on his part, discussion last night, the point to life is truly dwelling on my mind.
Well... Being the selfish, egocentric person I am, rather the point to my life.
What do I want to do with my life? Have a career, be a wife, a mother, dedicate my life to religion, the government or volunteer to try and save our crumbling world? The world, as they say, is my oyster. I wish I had less choices, someone to make the decision for me, even if it then prompted me to rebel and discover what I really want to do. Though there is already no doubt in my mind what I want to do, I can't quite pinpoint how to make a living out of it just yet. (Another snippet from my house-mate, that even if all I do with my life is live at home trying to write the novels that I know are inside of me, and even succeed in finishing one or all of them, I still haven't made a contribution to the world unless they are published!)
I know it's ridiculous and unrealistic to believe anything I write could equate to a career - or maybe having that belief would be enough to get me there - regardless, what is so wrong with wanting to live my life for me? Of course I'm going to have to get a 'real job' to survive in this materialistic and money orientated world, but if in an ideal world I could somehow live by my writing alone, would my life be considered to have less point than Percy?
Ciao Bellas Xx
(on a completely unrelated thought, I feel that I should get rid of the 'Bellas' crap as 1. I doubt all of you who read this are beautiful and 2. I'm judging you all as Twilight fans, when clearly Harry Potter is better! So I apologise. Will be changed by the next ramble... )
