Sissyphus

So today in my ethics and values class, we discussed Camus' essay regarding the Myth of Sisyphus. As the story goes, the gods had condemned Sisyphus to a life of perpetually rolling a rock up a mountain, letting it fall down, and rolling it back up again. Camus compares the life of Sisyphus to almost every member of our modern society who blindingly goes to work everyday and lives a life of repetition and null of purpose. Sisyphus, unlike us, is said to be conscious and completely aware of his existence. As an existentialist who mainly wants to know why anyone should go through life without blowing his/her brains out, Camus is intrigued by the capability Sisyphus has to find contentment in his tragic fate. The discussion was essentially about the option of choosing happiness, in this dreadfully tragic life, no matter what your circumstance.

this is all very interesting and relevant, however, Camus' essay is not the point of this blog.

During our class discussion, the girl next to me was bawling. Like, weeping. Aggressively wiping tears off her cheeks and sniffing the snot back into her nose. I couldn't figure out why? Was it because this idea of creating your own happiness was so inspiring to her? Or because she had tried to find this happiness within herself and failed? Had she become conscious of her existence right in that moment? Or because she once dated a guy named Sisyphus and this whole 50 minutes brought back painful memories? Or was she doing a sociology experiment on me? Any ideas? All i know is that she worried me a little bit and I probably won't sit by her again if I can help it.

Also, as we were taking roll, our teacher asked a question about the name origin of one Frank Edward, and why he goes by Eddie. The girl/human proceeded to explain how he was named after his father and grandfather but was getting a sex change operation so needed a more gender neutral name. Our teacher proposed that "Frankie," in reference to Frank E would be a better choice.

School is kind of a trip. Life is kind of a trip. Good thing I have a french existentialist to remind me that I can be happy through it all.