So many times at school, this idea of
having a purpose, having a goal, has been repeatedly stamped
into my brain. Constantly, we are barraged by the idea of
doing something with ourselves. So that we can be starkly
different from the pot-bellied bums that sit back Homer
Simpson-style on a sofa in an open, plaid t-shirt and old,
stained jeans to watch T.V., beer in hand. But then why are
so many people absolutely purposeless in life?
Ayn Rand contends that the most dangerous
man is the one who does not seek any sort of purpose, who
does not actively pursue anything. This is the sort of
person that slowly multiplies and people an entire wagon
full of unthinking types; the wagon, then, can be designated
for any purpose.
That, however, is not really my purpose
today. Maybe I’m just a little frustrated? Annoyed? Baffled?
Disconcerted? Probably all four. There are kids at school
that hook onto drugs and crazy outings – why? But that’s not
even the most frightening bit. The part that makes me
shudder is that most of these kids know what they’re doing
to themselves is deleterious. But they’ve developed a
strange, hardened shell. They feel, not good, but a good
sense of swamping “nothing” by dipping into the happy
delirium of drugs and loud music. They call it fun. And
somehow, it’s this euphoric state of ecstasy and glee that
is supposed to compensate for their “tough” lives.
Now, realize that I’m not just trying to
be the matronly prude objecting to the rash behavior of the
young’uns here. I honestly don’t get it. The idea of
sacrificing your autonomy, creativity, and spirit to the
gnashing teeth of the mob-god is repulsive.
Of course, I understand why they continue
to do it. It’s like addiction, purposelessness is. Once a
person is sucked into the sticky quicksand of lethargy, she
is eternally submerged in it. Then, escaping the globbish,
amorphous hands of apathy becomes impossible.
Don’t fall in.