and the point is...

So, I recently finished reading , re-reading rather, The Stranger by Albert Camus. It's kind of like the existentialist's mantra put into living form through the main character Mersault. I haven't read this book in almost 9 years, and thought that I might get much more from it this time around.

The point Camus is making (ironic actually that he is trying to put accross a point and affect other people -antithesis of his philosophy) is that there isn't one. No point for anything. You just live day to day and whatever happens happens and it affects nothing. In fact, when you do have a passing thought of an emotion, it will confuse the heck out of you, because there is no point for emotion or even thought about emotion in life.

I just can't reconcile this form of belief. If there is no point, why the hell am I here? I'd rather not be. I am affected by and do affect others and things in this world. The pain and suffering right along with joy and love are what make being alive real. The idea that tomorrow just might be better than the last and the anticipation of the unknown is what keeps me breathing for another day.

Anyway, I would think that psychologically, it's nearly impossible to actually live a proper philosophically existentialist lifestyle. You would have to be so incredibly emotionally detatched - it would just be devastating for the people around you. It's possibly the most selfish philosophical position that one can take. You wouldn't care of course - but unless you really deeply do have emotional/psychological problems - it would be nearly impossible to detach yourself to that degree. And for what point? I guess I'm a bit too goal oriented for existentialist philosophy.


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