Dear Diary.

The coming winter's cold. Pretty cold, I should say. Not nearly enough for it to snow like last year, but cold all the same.

The morning reports went like any other day. Still no leads on the Buford case. There's some minor dispute over a fence. As far as I can tell, it's just the Merriweathers acting up again. Some drunk lost a dollar. Too bad for him.

One of the niggers on the other side of town got all riled up about Tom Robinson, broke his master's cup. I felt kind of sorry for him, so I gave him a day's jail and a talking to. The master's still mad as heck, of course, but the nigger gets it. He knows we're both in the same boat.

Thinking about Tom always gets me down. Atticus got the case bang to rights. He'd damn near proven to God he was innocent, but the jury killed him anyway. Sometimes it's like there's no justice in this town. It's like Atticus, Link, Maudie and me, we're the only people who think things straight. Nobody else.

I'm thinking back to Atticus on the night before last. The verdict got to him pretty bad. The look in his eyes, it put fear in me.

Niggers. Negroes, coloured men, whatever you call them, they're people too. I can see a cook through the window as I'm writing this, and I'm thinking-- The only difference between yonder cook and me is his skin's a different color. He's got a wife, children, a job, memories, feelings. He's got a human life.

Why doesn't anyone else see that?

I'm going all deep and philosophical again. Best I stop writing till tomorrow.

-Heck
November 2, 1937

For an assignment.

In Memoriam

For an assignment.

Life, and Meaning Thereof

When you just finished reading The Sign (great book, by the way, except for the parts where the author decides to spontaneously express his views on abortion and faith) and your mathematics teacher raises a question about the meaning of life, and you are the kind of loquacious, extremist sucker I am, there is no getting away from it. The subject to me is like a glowing lightbulb the size of the Indian Ocean to a moth. Here it goes.

I believe that there is no God. In the very beginning, some quantum conflux and the most insane of contrived coincidences combined to make the universe in which we now reside. Through cascading and improbable happenings of chance, life was created and slowly adapted over the millenia into what we are today. This is my belief because there is no evidence to suggest otherwise. The obvious argument of how ridiculously unlikely this is is easily rebutted by the comparison of humanity to an intelligent goldfish. Imagine the goldfish wondering why its tank is filled with water; the answer is that without the water, it wouldn't be there to ponder it.

So... the creation of everything as we know it was a purely mathematical coincidence. Without a postulated guiding intelligence involved in its formation, it becomes apparent that our existence is completely and utterly meaningless.

However, we being the fallible creatures of impulses and desires we are, humans are unable to accept this. Given this conclusion, by logic it can be seen that even if we were to firebomb everything and wreck the planet, there are no true repercussions to our deeds. Yet we have not (except for a minority of affected individuals who are outside the reach of this post). The reason for this is simply that we are unable to truly accept this idea. With this insight in mind, there are two options for the human mind: create a coping mechanism, or go insane.

Let me talk a little bit about the first option. Creating a coping mechanism in this case could mean blanking out this realization. It could mean fabricating a meaning of one's own to append to life. It is my belief that religion is such a fabrication.

My coping mechanism is strange. I acknowledge that life has no meaning, but I persist in the clockwork operation of daily life. This is because I believe that humanity as a whole has given our lives meaning. Out of those initial caveman struggles to survive has grown a complicated social system, with nuances such as castes, responsibilities and human interaction. I make it a point to adhere to these rules, as though I may feel that the burden of life holds no water, others do not think the same. In effect, I am bound by my responsibility to my friends and family. This allows me to continue.

But another, and yet more powerful, aspect of my coping mechanism is this. It is my conclusion that life has no meaning, but it can be given meaning by the actions of humanity. Is it not then my responsibility to give meaning to the lives of others, and to enrich others' lives, so that they do not recognize the terror of nihilism? This is why I tell jokes, I exercise my wit and why, in fact, I have embraced life.

To me, the meaning of life is to give meaning to it.

Somewhere In The Caribbean... Tremors

I hate how the Haiti earthquake is so overhyped right now. In school, everyone talks about it and teachers somehow make opportunities to mention it every three minutes. On Facebook, an app and about a million groups have spontaneously appeared, promising to make dubious donations of varying amounts of varying currencies to the Haiti relief effort. In real life, the aftermath of the disaster dominates the newspapers, the televised news, and pretty much any media you can think of. I wouldn't be surprised if an upcoming documentary movie was announced titled "Haiti: Eye of the Storm" and its tie-in video game and toys.

We all know Haiti happened. People died. Those who didn't, lost everything in their lives. Horrific photos have been circulated around the world. But do we, the relative upper class, really feel sympathy for these people? When we read the newspaper and see the death tolls, we don't wonder about the personal hell each of the disaster-struck people must be going through. We have not experienced the doomed feeling you have when you are trapped under meters of rubble, slowly losing blood, asphyxiating to death in the darkness. We comprehend these matters with a detached fascination. We cannot emotionally connect, because we don't know those who are really affected by the earthquake. Such is one of the many intrinsic flaws of humanity.

So stop pretending you do. Those Facebook groups claiming to donate to the relief effort for every member who joins are bullshit. They are scams to get more members, preying on the tendency to 'donate' to ease your guilt for being the lucky elite that have never experienced the harsh life that the Haitians are now going through. Stop mentioning the Haiti earthquake in daily conversation, because it won't change anything. The masquerade of public concern is just that - a masquerade.

If you really care about Haiti, take a plane there and work in the relief effort yourself. But know that if you have the money to buy a computer to read this post, you probably don't. I know that's true for me, and I am not afraid to admit it.