The Absurd Life, Lived

Work in Progress

I have a troubled mind, as others have pointed out. I watch horror movies and dark comedies directed by my thoughts, acted by my neurons, and shown on a big screen just beyond my nose. I watch the movie through the eyes that God has given me.

But God was not the director of my film.

I reserve that horror (So, it autocorrected honor, but I am leaving it as horror because I think it sounds more ominous) for my lived experience.

Also known as…my absurd life.

Lights. Projector.

Absurdity isn’t the confrontation with the silent, indifferent universe, as Camus said. It’s a silent, indifferent universe. Like the universe is some distracted kid, too busy to care all day, but still someone you could play Monopoly with after dinner.

Fade in.

I should have, I should have, I should have.

Why did that happen that way?

It wasn’t my fault.

He did it.

Why can’t I?

Hide the knife.

Enter please…my audience.

Watching my absurd experience, my movie, makes me wonder:

Did I miss some glacial guidepost that read, “Wrong Way”?

It could have said Stop or Construction Ahead.

No matter, I would have missed them all.

I guess the opening scene would be when my father said to me in a rush, “a blind man picked up a hammer and saw”.

I remember this paradox. That absurdity.

I became obsessed over it.

It was a struggle for me to comprehend.

Paradox had no place in my theater.

It must have snuck in while no one was watching.

I grew up thinking that I knew what reality is.

My film is my reality, right?

I should direct it.

But life – it has its own meaning outside of my mind.

One that I can’t comprehend.

Can my reality actually trump the reality of the universe?

Was that too bold?

Too ostentatious?

I feel like it was.

It is.

But only for this showing. Roll credits.

See you at the next premiere.