Random

There is a theory of life being just random moments and memories that our brain connects together to form meaning.

I partially subscribe to this theory. Mostly because my life seems like random moments that come together to form something some people would call a life.

For instance:

Biking home from the grocery past 18 party busses full of assholes. Or soon to be drunk assholes. Random biker guy says at the stop light, "ya know if I had a helicopter with missiles, I would only shoot party buses." Amen sir, amen. Let's be awkward at the next light when we meet again. And such is life.

The boy that got me a new MacBook Pro (yea, after I write this I'm totally watching a tutorial on how a Mac works before I go to class). "Andrea, I've been in love with you since second grade." I replied in kind "I wasn't even born then." I was joking, but then we did the math and it was true. Who's the asshat now? And such is life.

This morning as I was fighting with myself about whether or not I was actually going to get up on my fourth snooze alarm and go to class, my cat started whining and was the catalyst of my shower. Running down the stairs late, I fed said cat, then realize I have a flat tire. About 30 minutes later my roommate couldn't find his wallet and we were both late for our respective obligations. Was it because we won't marry Jews? And such is life.

Why won't we marry Jews? Because we're not Jewish. There is nothing wrong with being Jewish. I have a lot of Jewish friends. In fact, one of my best friends is Jewish. But later in life, as a couple, you would have to attend certain events and decide where the kids will go to school and .... leads to problems and arguments. I want to avoid as many problems in life as I can. Therefore, I will also avoid marrying into the Muslim faith. What of it. And such is life.

When I was four, I pushed my little one-year-old brother on a swing and he hit his head on the supporting pole. Bled for hours. He got held back in kindergarden. My fault? Maybe. Probably not. He's fine now, going to Penn State in the fall. And such is life.

In art history we argued about whether or not this is art.

Is it? It's by an artist named Duchamp and it's called The Fountain, done right after WWI. No one knows who R. Mutt is. I would argue that it is, but had Duchamp signed his real name, it wouldn't be. But, where does this fit into the universe? In MY life, I should have been an art history major. But shit happens. And such is life.

Instead of working at a Mexican restaurant on Cindo de Mayo, I would much rather sip a beer on my stoop and contemplate this thing we call life with my three best friends. Guys, let's work on this.

Cheers.