the meaning, or not meaning, of life...

This is one isn't flowing freely from my fingers quite like the last. I've had many ideas of which I would like to write about it since that post, but I tend to get good dialogue in my head only when a) I'm not near a computer b) I'm drunk (go figure) and c) when I'm driving. I'm probably only limiting myself by revealing this, but I say it once again, I'm only human (yup, I'm smoking a cigarette when I'm finished).

I just finished watching, rather nodding off through, Pan's Labrynth, an interesting film from Guillermo del Toro. I don't know if I should give you my full synopsis and review of the film, but I can suggest it as one to queue in your Netflix. This film comes to me after a lengthy string of life and death themes that have been pervasive in my everyday life lately. I've seen it before but didn't give as much notice to this: Ofelia is shot by her heinous step father at the end of the film, finishing the line of tasks set forth by the faun who Ofelia imagines she interacts with. Her own innocent blood is spilled onto the gate to the underworld, allowing her to return her true home with her mother and father, queen and king of the underworld. Ofelia is lying on the ground, imagining this at the end of the film, and just before she passes, she smiles. Quite moving.

While I'm only 23 years old, I sometimes get this feeling I'm having my 20 something year old life crisis. I imagine this is not uncommon for the common college graduate at my age. The so called "wonder" years are over, you're out on your own (or living with your parents) in the real world battling the elements of coworkers (and/or your parents) and this thing called the economy, which has never really affected your life before because you had your parents to do that for you. I'm just like any other graduate right now, whether or not I'm in the employeed or unemployed group. The one thing I'm not sure about is this death thing.

Firstly, my string of life and death related themes for the past week (I'll be quick about it).

The Road by Cormac McCarthy, suggested by friends and a forum, especially since the movie is coming out. I want to be one of those insiders at the theater who knows exactly what's going on when it happens and so I can also offer my wise review and criticism after seeing the film. Synopsis: post apocalyptic world, father and son fighting to stay alive among cannibals and theives. Can they stay alive? Is living in this bleak, broken and lifeless world worth it? I can't really say how I totally felt about the book but it's written really well and worth a read.

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Once again we rediscover Bradd Pitt really is a good actor (he always has been in case you've forgotten). The preview doesn't prepare you for what the movie is really about. But the fact that you are supposed to lose people in life is revisited and quickly accepted by Benjamin Button. He made it look easy.

After The Road, I started A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius by Dave Eggers, a memior that I'm only about 100 pages into. This is in my string because the beginning is about how Dave loses both his parents within a year and is charged with taking care of his 7 year old brother with the aid of his sister. He relates a lot of the dialogue with his mom while they both knew she was terminally ill. She was a strong woman and was somehow ready for it to happen. It certainly is a captivating way to initially engage the reader, but he openly admits that as a goal in the preface.

Finally, I opened a link today on a forum I regurlaly visit to find a post involving the forum reader to think and reply about what they would do in the next 24 hours if they knew they were going to die. Apparently I'm not the only one with death on my mind. What was striking to me were the number of people who could respond in a short paragraph with what they would actually do. This is beyond me and just another reason I'm here right now, letting this bleed from my head.

So where am I going with this (ie how does it tie into the title)?

I've had a lot of time to think about this idea of "the meaning of life" and this is my conclusion. When we hear scientists or philosophists or theologians or any other learned type of people talk about this "meaning", I assume they talk about the meaning of life for humans as a group. The vast expanse of time and the universe is entirely too big for our wee planet in the Milky Way to have a direction or charge to do something. I also like to use the history of humans to support this point. I'd bet my, let's say right hand pinkie, because I don't think I use that one too often, that the "meaning of life" to colonists who fought for the independence of the US is way left field compared to the meaning for a bike messenger in San Fancisco. I know, it's a horrible comparison but if you take a minute to grasp the idea you might be able to make ones better than mine.

Condensed into one statement, you have to make your own meaning to life, whether it's the Bible, working your ass off 60 hours a week to provide for your family, or to experience as many wild adventures as possible. While I've gone ahead and put it into your hands to figure out on your own, don't worry because there will be plenty of other people that have the same meaning. There's probably a group out there for everyone.

I want to end asking this, which is how I see the meaning of life and death being closely related:

If you have the time at the moment just before you die, knowing that it is actually about to happen, that which will inevitably overcome all of us, will you be able to smile?

Ink, traveling, and the art of happiness

Hi. It's probably about 8:25 PM and I'm cruising somewhere between twenty and thirty thousand feet. First, and hopefully only point in question, no, I'm not updating my blog right now, twenty thousand feet over the continental US. I'm somewhere between Cincinnati and Norfolk, scribbling this down on my beverage napkin, trying to avoid the wet spots when possible. 

I've been in Cincinnati the past 24 hours on business. Unfortunately, I hope you understand, I have no stories of lavish 1st Class flights or decadent hotel suites. The Hilton was quite classy, but I'm sure I had the smallest available room (no complaints though, the shower's water pressure was above par).

I just glanced out the cabin window of the small Embraer I'm flying in to see the moon bathing a sea of clouds in a yellow glow. This directs my attention to the right side of my chest which will read from now on "We'll see the beauty in life again..." The needle didn't too badly, it got almost comfortable after a while. It's funny after spending 8 or 9 hours in airports the past 24 hours, being one of those laptop toting, neck tie dressing cronies flooding the gates every hour that this is that view that greets me after such drudgery. 

2 events of interest come to mind out of this so called business trip.

While being a fine patron of the disgustingly overpriced Moes restaurant (sorry Simpsons fans, I don't think they even considered such an idea) in the Cincinnati airport, the bartender enlightened me to a quick comment of the different people he saw in and out every day.

"It's almost disgusting how this job has given me such good judge of character. That girl at the door...I thought that cute girl should sit over here at the bar, but as soon as I saw her face...No way. She's mental. I can tell in the first 3 seconds."

I chuckled, shrugging the comment off not showing much interest in "deep conversation". He was still a good bartender and saw me on my way well. I just can't help wishing though, that I had asked "What did you think when you saw me?" I didn't want to prove anyone wrong, I just wanted to know if he was right. I would have given him 20 bucks if he was. 

2nd event of interest.

As I waited with my coworker for her flight to leave 2 hours before mine would, I saw an interesting person walk by gate A2. I would have been damned, was that my freshman year roommate's older brother's good friend? I dismissed the chance, seeing there was something distinctly different. 

After my enlightening experience at Moes (as well as a tall Kentucky Ale), I wondered over to the smoking lounge. I was bored and I am human after all. When I walked in, I saw the previously mentioned person again. He looked like he was fighting off sleep, so I just sat, sucked down my Camel Light. Soon I got up to leave and glanced over again to see he was looking at me. Our eyes met, some recognition occurred and I moved his direction. 

I walked up to him and he said, 

"Do I know you from somewhere?"

"Jack?"

"No, I'm his little brother."

I couldn't believe it, he had definitely grown and changed in the past four and a half years. Of all the people, I would never have thought I would see him in the smoking lounge in the Cincinnati airport. His life had taken him to Montana then LA where he studies psychology with the hopes of continuing in clinical psychology. The details of what I said and he said there after are not of much interest. It's difficult to talk with someone you didn't know that well four and a half years ago. 

But it makes me wonder, how it was our paths should cross in such a way. We're landing now and seats and tray tables must be locked and in their upright positions, thusly my writing surface has vanished. I'm going to take some time, the drive home really, to be amazed about this some more, maybe think about it. Maybe I'll just leave it at coincidence. 

Note: I did write this at the specified times at the beginning and am just getting to posting it now. I haven't thought about this much, my mind is still just blown. By the way, if I hadn't approached him in the smoking lounge, we would have still talked as we were seated next to each other on our flight home.