I was reading Liam’s blog earlier this morning, by which I mean about twenty-six seconds ago, and he said something that particularly struck me:
“What you say doesn’t need to make sense! Just like with any of your works, the readers will ascribe meaning to your words….Nonsense becomes profound.”
Nonsense becomes profound. That’s true. Nonsense is very profound. It’s like, if someone took a McDonald’s hamburger and replaced all the meat therein with John Green quotes, that’s how profound it would be. Because A) John Green kicks ass; and B) I bet there’s a large market for QuoteBurgers with the 18-29-year-olds who wear plaid shirts ironically demographic.
Anyway, as I was saying, or trying to say: The thing about nonsense is that it doesn’t make any sense. It really doesn’t. But humans like things to make sense–in fact, every academic discipline ever made focuses on the idea of having things make more sense than they already don’t–and so we take the nonsense and interpret it our own ways. When a thing doesn’t have meaning, our brain forces us to give it meaning. Look at life, or the NFL. Every day we are surrounded by insignificance and, unfiltered, this insignificance destroys us. It tells us we’re tiny dancers on a cosmic scale with no choreographer or music and this one performance is worth 60% of our final grade. The insignificant must, for our own sake, be made meaningful. Because meaninglessness is unfathomable. It’s dark and it’s scary and it makes us die a little on the inside. Because we let it kill us.
The way I see it with my blind eyes, the world is a sore throat and meaning is a coffee drop. It’s not bad to have once in a while and can really help, but it’s not a real cure. The real cure is being happy without meaning. The real cure is saying “This doesn’t make sense” and believing it and not caring that it doesn’t make sense, just acknowledging it. The real cure is seeing beauty in the divine power of nothingness and ignoring it. Because Nothing can’t have meaning either. The only real meaning should be the cadence of your breath and wherever that cadence takes you. Trying to organize and categorize the thousand different feels of life is a waste of time. You might as well play Yahtzee instead.