Saturday, March 11, 2006
I wrote this as a journal entry for English. So weird... >.<This journal entry is quite freaky, I have to admit. Not only will I have to figure out my purpose in life (which I have been pondering over for most of my years), I have to actually compare and contrast myself with something that I have always found totally repulsive: the cockroach.
But hey, first time for everything, right? But still... *shudders*
But really, it isn't the cockroach's fault that I and many others find it as visually disgusting. Their lifestyles were made for dark and filth. Like I said, they didn't really have a choice. They were made as part of a big ecological plan (read: food chain), but they don't really have a purpose and ambition, unless you count reproducing themselves in the millions. They were made to rely and live, simply on basic instinct, no complex complications. Just what it was made for: to chew, crap, calm, and crawl. Must be nice, really, to have such a simple life.
If you don't count the toxic spraying and the stick-smacking and the foot stomping and the "Oh carp, s***, it's a f***ing cockroach!"
In exchange for an instinctive life with a dose of peril, a splash of dark and filth, and lots of reproduction involved, cockroaches don't have a life of purpose and soul. Which makes you think just why we do, and they don't.
I think I, a human, have a purpose in life (and therefore, a more complex living style to boot), rather than the cockroach's life of instinct, because I have a soul. I have intellect, will, and the ability to feel and manifest emotions. I mean, I don't really think that the cockroach would care if someone offered it a million dollars, other than seeing that lovely lovely money as a bunch of fun crisp material to chew on and use as a toilet.
Surely, if I put myself in the shoes - er, feet - of the cockroach, and thought like it did... If a cockrophobe (is that the correct term?) saw me crawling on his/her just cleaned floor, he/she would freak out and yell, "It's a frickin' cockroach! Eeeew! Get it off my floor! Getitoffgetitoffgetitoff my clean floor!" I prolly wouldn't even care that someone called me such a disrespectful word like that. I would probably just shrug my exoskeleton-covered shoulders and think, "OK, angry dude on the loose. Let's ditch. Where's the next hotel?"
But... I don't think cockroaches would even think THAT.
If I ever had an interview with a cockroach, maybe it would go like this:
Me: Hello, Mr. Cockroach. Tell me, what's it like to be a cockroach?Mr. Cockroach: Oh, it's a fine life. I can get all the chow I want, I can sleep anywhere, I always look so cute in my shiny chocolate brown coat, I don't have any marital or parental problems to worry about, and I can even survive those big booming thingies that you humans make. Of course, it's not all rainbows and flowers for us cockroaches. I always get picked on by bigger living things that want to eat me, and it's just SO hard to stitch a proper family tree. Really, it is.
Me: Oh, I see. Are you glad to be a cockroach?
Mr. Cockroach: Sure. I wouldn't have it any other way.
But, since cockroaches don't feel stuff like this, an interview with a cockroach would probably go something like this:
Me: Hello, Mr. Cockroach. Tell me, what's it like to be a cockroach?Mr. Cockroach: ...
Me: Umm, Mr. Cockroach?
Mr. Cockroach: *runs away from the interview room to go and make several thousand more offspring*
Me: Uh... okay.
I guess, that even though I have to feel sadness and annoyance and worry about things like passing Math and getting rejected by crushes (how well I know these), the fact that I can think and reason out seems to be a pretty good change. I guess it's not that bad an exchange, instinct for purpose:
God: Okay, Mr. Cockroach, you get a fine life. You can get all the chow you want, you will always look so cute in your shiny chocolate brown coat, you can sleep anywhere, you don't have any marital or parental problems to worry about, and you can even survive those big booming thingies that humans make. Of course, it's not all rainbows and flowers for you. You will always get picked on by bigger living things that want to eat you, and it will be just SO hard for you to stitch a proper family tree. Really, it will be. But, you have no idea about intellect and will and deep emotions and purpose and all that chorva. But YOU, my dear Homo Sapiens kiddies, don't get this kind of life, but you get a soul and all that chorva. Cool?
Mr. Cockroach: ... okay. *reverts to soulless mode*
Me: ... okay. *reverts to soulful mode*
God: I'm so good!
But hey... sure, I have a purpose and the cockroach doesn't, but there's no point in having a purpose if I don't know what it is and don't follow it, right?
I have been debating on what my purpose is, for nearly all my life. My sisters insist that my purpose in life is to be annoying to them and toss them the pillows when we fall asleep in the car, but nah, I don't think so.
I believe, and have done so for quite some time now, that my purpose in life is to make a difference on this earth.
When I say this, I don't mean make a big, history-changing difference. If I can simply touch a living thing's life (it doesn't even have to be a human; it could be E.T. for all I care) and make a good difference, it should be enough. It really doesn't have to be big at all. I'm talking about the little things.
Things like this include a cheer-up conversation with a classmate who's feeling down, rescuing a little kit from an innocent kid's death grip, a pat on the shoulder for a lonely friend, a laugh for some person's extremely corny joke, or even something as simple as a smile.
If you're asking for a concrete example, well... there was a time a friend of mine texted me at around midnight. He was feeling really down (and I mean REALLY, he was almost suicidal), and even though I was ill and wanted nothing more than sleep, I stayed up for a few minutes to reply and daub sisterly balm on his sorrows. Depriving myself of sleep and taking the effort to think up a gentle and COHERENT reply: that's a lot, and definitely a difference in my friend's life at the moment.
I believe that this is my purpose in life because, well, it's something that I've been doing, even involuntarily. And if it's something that pulses in my blood, goes through my motions, and has been going on for quite a long time... heck, it's got to be something important.
And my purpose is definitely important.
I can't be sure if this is really my purpose, but I think, at the moment, it is. What I feel is important is that I am living up to it, and find it something that merits thought and action. My purpose is more important to me than any carefree cockroach-like life that anyone can offer me.
Because, really, would I, or ANYONE, for that matter, want to go through all the toxic spraying and the stick-smacking and the foot stomping and the "Oh carp, s***, it's a f***ing cockroach!" ?
~~ Eruanne
current mood: amused
current music: Brown Eyes by Destiny's Child
8:59 PM