The Meaning of Life?

David McKnight

Mr. Barnes

Honors English 3

31 January 2013

The Meaning of Life?

            What is the point of life?... The question has been asked an uncountable number of times, being posed by figures in jobs ranging from prophet to musician, by people as different as Epicurus and Douglas Adams. As Eric Idle sang, “Why are we here? What's life all about?”. No-one has come up with an answer that pleases everyone; many answers only pertain to some people. Ultimately, the only consistency between these answers is that they don’t satisfy everyone. I am one of the unsatisfied. Throughout my life, I have been trying to find some way to leave a mark, to make reality acknowledge my existence forever.

            Art class, kindergarten. Age: 6. Place: Mason Ridge Elementary. Our teacher asks us to draw a turkey for Thanksgiving. “Let’s begin, everyone.” Mrs. V, so called because most of us can’t remember the name Vansteinhouse, declares. Excitedly, I pull out my Midnight Black and Cardinal Red Crayola markers and set their round nubs to a piece of brown construction paper. Yes, I think to myself, after about 50 minutes of drawing a bird-like thing. This turned out really well. My belief in the picturesqueness of my work is vindicated when Mrs. V asks me if I want my turkey in the art show. I begin to imagine my turkey next to other great works of art, like Captain Underpants; myself beside Dav Pilkey, the Kindergartener’s Monet.

            Within a month, nobody but my immediate family would remember that turkey.

            Talent show, 2^nd grade. Age: 8. Place: Some Center. I stand on stage wearing a chef’s toque and apron, valiantly wielding a rubber chicken. “The turkey shot out of the oven…” I begin, stating the first few lines of a Shel Silverstein poem as I hurl the bird into the audience. I continue with my lines, enjoying the attentions of the many people in the audience, and as I finish discussing the narrator’s misadventures of using unpopped popcorn as stuffing, the audience bursts into applause. Yes. I think to myself, walking off of the stage. This turned out really well.

            This turkey performance hits the spot more so than the drawing, as five years down the line, in seventh grade, I still would receive complements concerning it, but ultimately, it, too, would fade into obscurity.

            Spelling bee, 6^th grade. Age: 12. Place: Parkway West Middle School’s Library. “Abacus. A-B-A-C-U-S. Abacus.” I sit down with disbelief as I succeed in spelling the word that nets me the title of School Spelling bee champion. Yes. I think to myself, as I stand back up to get the slip of paper that declares my triumph. I imagine how impressed my teachers will be, and how people will finally trust me when I correct their orthographical errors. This went really well.

            Unfortunately, although my teachers would be excited, none of my classmates would really care all that much about it, and ultimately no one would remember or give a darn about my success.

            Winter break, 11^th grade. Age: 17. Place: My bedroom. I’m lying down, reflecting on my life, trying to find some significance in what I’ve done. I’ve garnered a laundry list of accomplishments by this point in my life, but to what end? In this age of global communication, any work I do will have to compete with about 7 billion other people’s. And that’s excluding anybody with a lasting legacy who’s ever died. So what hope do I have? I turn over, and stare at my wall. Everything I do is likely to be forgotten. I roll over in my bed and stare at the ceiling. Even assuming I do strike it big, I think to myself, when the sun goes nova, assuming we haven’t left the Earth, humanity will be wiped out anyway. A depressing thought. So what exactly is the purpose of life? I pick up my Nintendo 3DS and trigger it on. Ah. I think to myself, as the screen flares to life. But so what if I don’t leave a mark? Life is to be lived, after all. When I’m dead and gone, will I really care that I managed to change the world? I’ve had a ball on this climb to get to here. I smile, finally satisfied with an answer. Yes. So what if I can't figure out a purpose to life?  That doesn't mean I can't enjoy it.