A couple of days ago I was going through my day trying to figure out what I was alive for. I was so tired, my day so full of dumb stuff that just wasn't worth very much. Life felt dull, rather pointless, a blowage of the wind, and falling of a leaf, a mopping of a mechanic's garage. What was the point? How in the world did my life make any difference? And so I wondered and wandered. Now I realize the answer to that question is very simple: I am alive so that I can go to sleep as soon as I can every night. That's right. I am just tired. If I'm tired from a hard day, I want to sleep. All day, the idea of laying down my head tempts me. In the middle of lunch, in the middle of a boring spanish lecture, in the warmth of a cozy afternoon sun, in the middle of some invigorating laps at the pool! I guess that's how life is. The busier we get, the sooner we can go to sleep.

Wait... that sounds really stupid. Yes, sir, it sounds rather retardiculous to me. That's because I still don't know what chris clouzet's purpose is. I suppose I have made the occasional human being laugh or giggle a little. I have stooped to pick up something my pal has dropped. I have given a ride or two, (while definitely enjoying dozens...) I have shared a meal once in a while, I have smiled, laughed, been cheerful. But who cares? It certainly doesn't seem worth all the studying and working and being bored or tired or hurt, to me. Sometimes I wish that I didn't matter to anyone else in the world. In the sense that I could just run around or sit around, whichever my heart so desired. Instead, I am dragged around by some invisible, tugging string to each day's dumb classes, to the exercises that make me stronger and healthier, to the food that makes my stomach protrude, to the worships that we are all oh-so-woe-to-us "forced" to go to, to the home that houses my family, to the church that I worship in, to the car or bike or shoes that get me places, to the soccer games that I paid $75 to play in. Now, I grabbed some of those strings. But others I most certainly did NOT grab. And still others are ones that I wish I could latch onto only when I felt like it. Then there is that issue of feelings... Should we go by them or not? I've heard not. It makes me wonder why we have them, however.

In conclusion to the hope-you-put-your-boots-on-cuz-this-was-a-deep-blog blog, I guess I just have to say that the question still remains. The air is it's owner, the place where it stays for now. I almost venture to say that it will remain there until this life has been lived, perhaps then and only then will the strings make sense, the purpose become clear, the answers fade into visibility. And so, I suppose with that depressing thought, I will grab ahold of the string making me feel guilty that I am not studying my dang Hebrew...