By Sarah Heming, GED
All the time people think about a whole lot of things that are possible to think about. For example, earlier today I was just thinking about how cool it would be if I was actually pretty enough to show an actual picture of me in my columns instead of using some picture I found on Google Images that may be copyrighted. How I envy that person in the preview thumbnail.
But that’s not the point of why I’m here right now. My story started when I was thinking about something that was possible to think about. As a matter of fact, I was actually thinking about what my purpose in life was at that time (not that it’s any different now, I hope). And I got to thinking, what is my purpose in life? There’s that group of people who’s purpose in life is to arrange the French fries at McDonald’s in their little wrapper so that they look all straight and perfect and yummy. Was that my purpose in life?
No, I suddenly realized.
There’s that group of people who’s purpose in life is to hunch over in cubicles all day and write about how some people think physical events are individuated on the basis of spatiotemporal localization, and why this hypothesis is merely a convenient ontological mode of evading the influence of causal powers. Was that my purpose in life?
No! I realized again.
There’s that group of people who’s purpose in life is to buy those crappy magazines about people finding there true spiritual path. Was that my purpose in life?
No, why would I buy my own work? I thought.
Then it hit me. All I had to do was not to think about all the possible purposes that someone’s life could be, but instead think about what I’d been doing as a career for the last thirty years: writing allegedly inspirational columns for magazines and newspapers, duh!
After all these years, I finally had an epiphany and realized that my purpose in life is to write these columns about how something changed their life that nobody ever reads!
So after I freshly registered this information into my head, I wondered, what should I do with it? Should I go around town telling people what my purpose in life was, and then vigorously poke and prod them on what their purpose in life was? Okay! I thought.
So I got on my jacket, put on my shoes, tried and failed to not look like Frankenstein’s monster, and headed downtown to inform everyone about what I’d just discovered.
“Hey, my name is Sarah and I just found out what my purpose in life is!” I said over and over to passerby.
A few nice guys without any shoes and socks said they’d tell me what their purpose in life was if I gave them my wallet (“just to see what kinda leather it’s made of, honestly!”;), but I decided against it.
Besides, I’ve been figuring out this clever new way to figure out what someone’s purpose in life is just by looking at the expression on their face after hearing the words, “purpose in life.” For example, I saw a little girl that scrunched up her face all confused (and kind of angry) like and I knew just from that she would grow up to be a wrestler. Gosh, I love it when I’m right.
So anyway, I guess the point I’m trying to make here after all this random writing is that you can really get away with anything if you’re a writer like me. Seriously, I just filled up a lot of space with this junk.