Why do I even write in this any more? Why do I do any thing any more? Life is the futile persuit of distraction, and as much as I strive for distraction, it never works. And though I am aware of the futility, acceptence does not come with realiziation. It's like an athiest recieving a sign from God, he believed all his life that there was nothing to the universe except for random events, and then there God is, in all his bitter glory. Would the athiest accept God, or would he justify it, only to have his sub-concience gnaw at him until one day, months or years after the experience, he realizes, behold the Devine Obscurity! As it is with the athiest, it is with me. I've tried all my life to put meaning into all that I do, and when I learn that there truly is nothing, I still try to find meaning. Eventually it gnaws deep enough into my soul, so one morning I'll wake up and smile. For that day is the day where the obsurdity, obscurity and overwhelming sense of nothing will come over me, and then and only then, can I accept "LIFE IN THE PERSUIT OF DISTRACTION!"