Just put food in there

IS there a meaning to life?

I mean, really? Does this all mean something? Parts of it don't make sense, does the whole thing have to, either? I don't ask trying to be a downer, I'm actually asking in search of an answer.

Take the concept of utilitarianism, for example. The idea of utilitarianism is essentially that the best thing to do is that which produces the maximum good. So, the best thing to do with life, under this concept, would be to do as many good deeds, as often, for as many people or places or things as possible. But what is good? What is the most good you can do? Is it charity, helping individuals in need? Is it creating new and exciting technologies that help change and revolutionize the world and make more good things possible? Is it teaching and inspiring others to do good things on your behalf, like a benevolent pyramid scheme? Is it entertainment, scoring the most points in NBA history, getting the most likes on Instagram? Which one is good?

Or perhaps you could live by hedonism. Hedonism is basically saying that pleasure and enjoyment are the things we should strive for in life. Which is kind of a loaded bag, because some people enjoy doing charity and good works for humanity. Others... Well, I'm reminded of a quote by Joe Piscapo in the movie, "Johnny Dangerously". Joe's character said, "Well I enjoy collecting protection money, putting whores to work. I like putting bombs in peoples cars. These are a few of my favorite things." And regardless of how you feel about comical gangster roles in spoof movies, you have to admit that there are some people out there getting enjoyment from things that the rest of us do not care for. There are people who actually enjoy doing hardcore drugs and tearing up hotel rooms (that aren't rock stars from the 70's and 80's). There are people that like to streak in public and see the reaction of others as they look in disgust. There are people who enjoy anime porn, I'm just saying it's out there and it's being made for somebody because they keep making it. And yet, if hedonism is the way to go, then even people murdering because they like murder would be fulfillment of the meaning of life.

And then there is existentialism. Existentialism portrays life as inherently meaningless, and that the only reason life ends up having meaning is because of the meaning that we ourselves make it have. It states that Bill Gates, Bill Nye, Bill Clinton, Billy Baldwin, and Bill Buckner all have the same inherent meaning to their life, but that through their lives they can create meaning for themselves. And I guess that makes sense, or at least more sense that other theories have to this point. We all start at basically zero, and as we go, we can create a meaning different from other meanings of life, since we are all living different life's anyway. If we all lived the same life, perhaps it would be easier to define what the meaning of that life is, but it's very difficult to really sit down and say, "You're life's meaning was the book that you wrote, and his life's meaning was the family he raised, and her life's meaning was the facebook page she managed, and his was that strain of Herpes he spread through his college dorm room, because for each of you, that was the most impactful thing you managed in your life." Even if we could actually identify what each of us did that made the biggest difference on the planet, it still doesn't really tell all that much about the life itself, so you would have to be able to explain and explore and clarify and quantify, and here we are back to the first problem of how the hell to tell what it means in the first damn place.

There are thousands of ways to look at life and try to define and categorize and quantify it, and they all basically have their faults and drawbacks. You may be familiar with nihilism, which is more to the point that life is actually meaningless, and that killing yourself as soon as possible is preferred. Which is just an awesome way to go about your week. There are philosophies that you should live life by virtue, that you should seek to raise a family and contribute to society, that you should live simply and humbly (as in Lynyrd Skynyrd's classic, Simple Man), and there are even philosophies that you should just do whatever the hell you want because it's really not going to make any difference anyway, because human life is just a blip on the radar screen that is existence in the universe.

I like one particular approach to life that has been discussed, and it doesn't come from a philosopher. Well, not what we traditionally think about philosophers, anyway. It comes from an actor and comedian named Louis Szekely, better known as Louis C.K. And Louie is known for his sardonic commentary on everything, and most of the stuff he says is pretty bleak as far as its outlook, but I really like his take on life. It goes basically like this:

<points to mouth> "Just put food in here. That's it. Just walk around, find food and put it in here. Just do stuff so you can put food in there. Later on, when you feel it down here <points to stomach> just shit. That's all you have to do. If someone tries to stop you from putting food in there, murder them."

And I think my man Louie might be on to something. Not so much the end where he advocates murder, I think that kinda got away from him, but the concept that maybe life is less complicated than we've made it over the years here. The idea that maybe...

Yeah, I still don't know. But it doesn't mean we can't teach ourselves to look at overarching things like life differently.

Like how maybe life itself has no meaning until we attach meaning. Because that would really be better for me if every single life out there didn't really matter. Not so much for humans. But animals and insects. Really just certain types of insects. Like flies. I understand why they have to exist, but I really hate flies. If I could, I would kill flies all day, and I'd be pretty damn good at it, and I'm not even sure people would have to pay me very much to do it. I've killed flies pretty much every chance I get because I can't relax if I know that they are around. I'm not even kidding, I can't focus on anything unless I can kill or get rid of flies around me. And there is a reason for this.

The summer that I graduated from college, I was pretty much stuck at my house in Madison. It was a 4 bedroom place just south of the football stadium and it was kind of a dump but then again it was also okay for us. Well, a few things about the house. Ummm, it had no central heating, no A/C, it had 2 rooms in the basement that we're pretty sure were filled with mold, there was a 2nd floor with 3 bedrooms and a bathroom that actually trapped heat pretty well for the winter months, a 3rd floor with another bedroom and bathroom, and this yard out back that was wide open. The yard was disgusting, and connected to 4 other houses that rented from the same property company that we did, and then there was also a garage space that you could get to from this yard. So when trash accumulated in this back yard, that was still technically our backyard, it was hard to pinpoint where it came from unless you saw who put the trash there.

Well, over time, trash in that yard attracted stuff that likes trash. First there were a whole lot of ants, that took over the backyard and then moved into our kitchen.And we didn't have a dishwasher, so the dirty dishes that we had previously let pile up for a day or so were now the breeding grounds for the new Insect Hunger Games. So there was a month or so of that year that we had to make better resolve to clean dishes up. Next came the birds, who didn't so much want to get into the house but just always seemed to be fluttering around the backyard to check out whatever was on the menu.

And then came the flies.

This was into the summer months by now, when I was the only one still staying in the house full time. Everyone else had either moved out completely or was staying somewhere for the majority of the summer before coming back to move the rest of their stuff. And like I said, the second floor trapped any and all heat from the house, which made it unbearable to sleep up there. I gradually started moving all of my stuff to the living room, which one of my friends elegantly named 'Vicsville' due to the amount that it started to resemble a Hooverville from the Great Depression era. I honestly didn't mind for the time being, because I knew I just had to get through a few summer months and then I would move into my new place, a few blocks away, that at least had central heating and definitely had an A/C unit for my bedroom.

Well, I don't know how they got in to start. Probably from a window left open by someone in the house who would then have left and not had to deal with the consequences. But the important thing is, I was forced awake one night, as I tried to sleep in the living room, by the feeling of something crawling on my forehead. Which shouldn't have been happening under any circumstances, because no one else should be in the house, and even then, it would be a weird prank to put something on the forehead of a roommate forced to sleep in the living room because his bedroom was too hot.

Well, I try to swipe away at whatever it is, since it's dark and I can't see anything. And I shake it off, and try to go back to sleep, and I feel it again, this time I also hear a buzzing next to my ear, so I recognize that it's a fly. And I try to shoo it away again. But it keeps coming back, over and over again. And this goes on for like an hour. And finally I get to sleep, and wake up in the morning, and can't find the fly. So whatever, I go about my day, hang out at a friend's house, and come home to sleep again, and the same process starts over. Well, this time, I decide to try to find the fly and get rid of it, so I flick the lights on. And the living room has like 6 or 7 flies just buzzing and circling around everywhere, it made my skin crawl for a moment.

Well, I was energized at that moment, and decided to handle this situation all at once. I spent the next 2 hours going room to room, swatting and swiping at every fly I could find. I actually swung so hard, I busted part of a window in the dining room, which I had to subsequently tape back up to prevent the same problem from occurring more. Anyway, I got all the flies that night, but each night there would be more that found a way inside the house, and I wouldn't be able to go to sleep until I hunted them down. For the next 2 months, until I moved, that was my basic routine at night. It got to the point where, while I was living in that house, I didn't sleep the same unless I had hunted flies. And ever since, I've had the same reaction to any flies or spiders or bugs found where I live. They. Must. Be. Dealt. With.

So yeah, if I could, I would be a professional fly hunter. I would do that as a job if it were viable, just because of how much I believe in it. But as far as I know, that's not a thing. So I'm gonna keep trying to figure it out, or something close to it. And while I do, I'm gonna keep putting food in there. And shitting. And murdering people that try to stop me from putting food in the hole in my face. That's still cool, right?