avoid the void.

I stayed up until 2 am last night reading a book that is, objectively, trash. I read the entire book, from start to finish, in 3 hours. This is never a good sign. I went home after work fully intending to read Camus, or possibly to begin studying for the GED GRE. Instead I ended up watching about 4 episodes of Jon and Kate Plus 8, then going to bed and reading trash until 2 am. Now I be so tired.

I think it was Camus that did me in, actually. If you are feeling at all insecure - if you are even marginally contemplating the void - do not read an essay that begins, "There is only one really serious philosophical question, and that is suicide. Deciding whether or not life is worth living is to answer the fundamental question in philosophy." It's just, like, unnecessarily depressing.

Last night reminded me somewhat of first year in college when, by freak circumstances, I was required to read Nietzsche every quarter, sometimes twice. I emerged somewhat warped, much like Lloyd, who, in the best ever episode of Undeclared, learns about existentialism and ends up running around campus wearing nothing but a blanket. That didn't happen to me, per se, but I sympathize. Reading The Man of My Dreams until 2 am is, in its own way, kind of like losing all faith in existence.