Some days seem less useful than others. Other days seem stranger than some. When I get to the end of a day that seems both useless and strange, I know I've had a good one. The days spent toiling for the company or tidying up the apartment somehow don't have the same effect as days spent advancing my own chaos-- or at least not advancing my order.
Today, I slept in (which is becoming a habit of late, and one that seems like it will continue until school starts in the fall). Then I woke up, ate breakfast, walked the dogs, watched TV and went for a destructive lunch of wings and beer. Then I went there and there, accomplishing nothing major, had a few beers at a friend's, where I started watching a movie that always makes me think. Later I watched TV, ate dinner, and finished watching the movie, thinking even more by that point (since I spent the interim letting my subconscious review the first half).
Had I fully itemized my day, not only would this post have been even more boring, but I would only have highlighted the lack of substance in my day. Had today been a workday for me, instead I could've itemized the things accomplished on company time. Even though I
would've been paid, I still would've accomplished the same thing today: minor impacts making no influence on the state of existence. I suppose we've tricked ourselves into thinking we matter, or that our daily dealings matter.
I'm not saying I feel one way or another about existence. In fact, I rather like focusing on the mundane nature of the human state, because that's what connects me to the dull rumble of the churning Universe. Still, days like today remind me that it's okay to exist, no matter what that existence consists of. I just like those moments when I remember that guilty laziness is no worse than proud success. They're both spent in reality.
It's hard to find, but I recommend the 1991 film, Kafka. That's what put me here arguing in favor of my own existence.