One friend thinks that without all that has happened to me while failing to suicide, this means God has a purpose for me. Another friend thinks this now gives me a chance to write without worrying about the bills. Well, I am writing and maybe last night I see a purpose for my life. Got to have something to do for the next fifteen years.
Which means TJ was right all those years ago. She might like knowing that I am still trying to have my cake and eat it, too.
What troubles me is that old time existentialist idea that we all live in an absurdist universe. How can we tell what is a purpose given from on high from a random choice of an absurd universe. So far, all I can come up with is a bit I blame on William James: why shouldn't God's planning look like the product of an absurd universe, considering the difference between us and Him?
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