"if i'm not mistaken, you've come back here to the house of loneliness and tears, to daddy downer and brother bummer, to come to some sort of decision about life, a life decision if you will."
-natalie portman, beautiful girls-

cruelty. manipulation. meaninglessness. it's that time again, that time in our lives when we have to figure out what our next move is. i have a friend who likes to ask "so, what are you doing next? what's your next move?" i have another friend who likes to ask "so, what're you working on?" sadly, both of the times when i was first confronted with this question, i had no answer aside from a short glib one. actually most of my responses to questions tend to be glib, but so what?

if you are within my age demographic (say twenty four to twenty eight), you're probably starting phase two of the post collegiate years. you've gone through your first couple of jobs, you've gotten a sampling of the disappointments that lurk in the adult world, you've asked yourself the "who are my friends, where are my friends, why did i major in this" questions. and now you're ready to make moves.

the problem is, the pressure is on. you're running out of time -- and parental patience -- to fuck up. in a few years you will be thirty, and at thirty, you're fully an adult. you can't fake for much longer that you're just a late blooming twenty year old. at thirty you better be something. so, you've done grad school, law school, peace corps, traveling, and you're facing the next big decision. whether it be to finally move to another city, to buck up and find a real career, to buy a house/condo, to find your soulmate, whatever. the decisions you're about to make now will be the ones that could really effect the rest of your life. i mean like, really effect. recess is over kids, time to get serious.

the elementary school question, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" has been replaced by "what am i qualified to be now that i'm grown up?" and no, answering "i want to be a motherfucking hustler" just won't cut it anymore.

but before anybody is ready to make that next move, they always want to know "why? why am i here? what is the point of all of this?" well, i don't know much but i do know that i heart huckabees won't give you many answers -- a few funny moments and some questions, but no answers. but pretty much, doesn't that sum it all up? the best we can hope for in life is some funny moments and some semi-answers balanced by utter confusion, all of which may or may not link to something important. "i kind of get it, but not really...."

why ask why when it's easier to just say "ok, whatever, i'll just take the denver omelette." what is insufficient about an answer like, "there is no remainder in the mathematics of infinity - there is only the blanket." the meaning of our lives: overrated or something worth finding? i'm gonna go with overrated.

but still we strive to find answers. a whole nation of phase twos taking work sabbaticals, writing self analytical journal entries, reading into coincidences and motivations, all looking for the meaning of our lives. for what really? to make sure that our next move is the right move? it's not gonna happen, i've still got about five major fuck ups in me, at least. spread out over the rest of my life, that's not a terrible average, maybe one per decade? why strain myself over something that'll only affect me once every ten years -- true, with ripple affects that may or may not spread out to infinity and beyond but i'm willing to risk it.

i say fuck the meaning of it all and go with the hot one. when in doubt, always go with the hot one.