Not a shred of evidence exists in favor of the idea that life is serious

We like to have a “point” to everything we do. We are goal-driven. We worship having goals and goal-driven people and goals themselves.

Even when it comes to living. Which is why we ask ridiculous questions like “What is the purpose of my life?” or “Why must we go on living, if our lives are without purpose?” over and over and over and over again.

The amusing thing is that none of the other organisms on this planet care enough to ask these questions, because they are too busy seeking out the next meal. The human race is unique in that though it is biologically and fundamentally just a species of animal, it is dissatisfied with the answer an elephant or a mosquito might give as the purpose of its life: “N/A.” We demand our own existence to be rationally justified and understood, while none of the other organisms (even the ones that live in way worse living conditions, like penguins, camels, or cacti) do. But maybe we are “better” than penguins or bacteria (although I personally beg to differ) so it’s crucial that we ask “meaningful” questions like these (that those “dumb” animals don’t bother with).

But let’s look at the bigger picture here for a minute. We (the brightest of us, no less) have been asking these questions for ages and all we have come up with was a fictitious and/or hypothetical supreme being who can magically give us a purpose, with a divine (unquestionable and unverifiable) plan that is bigger than and incomprehensible to everyone.

And here is my humble suggestion in the face of these things: Let’s quit. Let’s stop belaboring these questions, because asking it over and over again isn’t going to lead to better answers. Maybe more answers, but they won’t be better. Instead, I think we should try our best to convert people to hardcore biophilia (love of life), courtesy of penguins and fruit flies. We should occupy ourselves with the daunting task of giving everyone enough reasons to fall hopelessly in love with and lust for life, rather than excuses for staying alive in spite of all the suffering. There is no purpose to human suffering. It doesn’t mean there is no such thing as human suffering, because whoever made this universe is not as goal-driven and point-obsessed as us. So shitty things happen, and when they do, it’s shitty – there is no way around it. Less suffering is always better.

So we can’t sit around wondering about (and writing books about and drawing pictures about and arguing with people about) why we are put on this earth (to become America’s Next Top Model? To be the next A-MER-ican Idol? the possibilities are endless) and what our afterlife (which may or may not exist) would look like, because people are suffering and miserable now. So many people (no matter what race, age, sex, income, occupation, lifestyle, etc.) hate their lives now and they decide to escape it, discard it, waste it, or do nothing with it. They find life unbearable and treat it like crap.

And that’s awful! That’s what needs to be fixed, not this apparent lack of meaning in our existence. We should not need a purpose outside of life itself. We should be able to want life while smiling. Not in spite of everything, but because of everything. We should be all given a chance at being happy. The real tragedy is not a life without a purpose, but a life that needs a purpose in order to sustain itself.

As for me: Sure, a life unexamined is life not worth living. But now that I have, I decided that although examining it is pretty fun (in philosophy classes and at bars with your philosophy majoring friends) I don’t really care at the end of the night. Even if someone listed me a million excellent and logical reasons to kill myself, I could never be convinced because I am an insane evangelical fangirl of my life.

And now I am going to go and drink my Iced Cappucino and munch on dried blueberries (I freaking love food).