It's really sad that I live my life entirely in the lyrics of other people's music. In the words other people write. In the movies other people direct. I feel completely unoriginal. Ordinary. Knowledgeable about things that don't matter at all. I have no motivation, I have no drive.
It tends to leave me wondering...what's the point? We are here, what are we supposed to be doing? Our lives go by in a blink and then we are gone. No one will remember us, no one will even know we existed.
Going through the motions today, an empty shell.
About Me
- Chelsea Miller
- I'm a senior at Indiana University majoring in English with a minor in Entrepreneurship and Small Business Management. I'm looking to break in to the coffee industry, eventually owning and operating my own small, fair trade coffeehouse. Music, books, and great coffee. The three necessities of life.
ok, so i don't like that you're going through an existential crisis right now, but i do like that you brought up your concerns about originality again, (because i read your post on 'the death of the author' and wanted to comment, but figured too much time had past.)
ReplyDeletefor one, the example you gave about the divine right of kings? sounds exactly like how the egyptian pharaohs did it. i'm serious. they were all about the pharaoh is a living god, and when he dies, the god is transported into the body of the new pharaoh.
i think people out there who are making stories and such aren't really trying to find new stories to tell, but find ways to tell the old stories in new ways. i mean, star wars was based off of greecian myth, but who had seen those stories take place in outer space before?
i had a very similar crisis of faith last year when i was approaching graduation. what got me through was the realization that it's not really what happens to us that makes us who we are, it's our reaction to the events. graduating and growing up sucks, but countless number of people have gone before us. what counts is how we decide to take it.
i really hope that my words can offer some help, i know existential crises suck. and hey, if you don't get through this, you can always get a beret, chain smoke cloves, drink black coffee and be a beat poet!