So what should I do...

with the rest of my life? 

Have you ever asked yourself that question? 

I did before coming to South Africa, I still do and probably will continue to until I am old and dribbling somewhere, being sponge-bathed by rude nurses and wearing diapers... (urgh, what a thought!)

The current position I have here in South Africa is not bad (except for the rather low pay). Colleagues are nice, friendships are nascent, and in many ways this is a perfect place to live, albeit extremely vexing from time to time (read previous and future installments of this blog to learn more on that topic), but (and it's a huge but) the question keeps rearing its ugly head - 

is this all there is?

Some of my friends (and probably one of my two sisters) will doubtless immediately suggest I visit a church service and be "saved" or "rediscover" my "lost faith."  

Now, without any disrespect intended, thanks, but no thanks. I have a very difficult time accepting the idea of there being a higher power and find most organized religion as bad as any other confidence scheme that's out there. In that regard, I wholly agree with Karl Marx's assessments that "Refugion is the sigh of the oppressed creature, the heart of a heartless world, and the soul of soulless conditions. It is the opium of the people" and "religion is the impotence of the human mind to deal with occurrences it cannot understand" but don't usually trumpet the fact that I concur with him as my father, a very wise man in his own right, taught me that many things - especially matters of faith and of the heart - are deeply personal, and therefore best kept completely private.

I'm also convinced that Friedrich Nietzsche wasn't altogether off his beam or the mark when he said that, "a casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything," "faith [is] not wanting to know what is true," "I cannot believe in a God who wants to be praised all the time," "in Christianity neither morality nor religion come into contact with reality at any point," and ultimately that, "the Christian resolution to find the world ugly and bad has made the world ugly and bad."

Nonetheless, as I drift through the second half of life, wondering about the first, marveling at the experiences already lived through, the good times, the bad times, the beauty, the ugliness, the joy, the pain, the suffering, the rewards and the losses, I find myself asking myself over and over again -

If there really is a superior being, a god if you will, how can he, she or it passively observe humankind and not pull his, her or its hair out at the roots in frustration? I can think of no single life form that has truly screwed up the planet more than the human being. I can also not in any way pardon this so-called supreme being - going here for a brief moment on the notion that there may be one - for his/her/its hands-off policy and allowing something as potentially beautiful as the human race to have gone so terribly awry.

These thoughts bring me back to that bold question above: Is this it? Can it really be that at 53 I have outlived all usefulness to the world and am now parked in this, possibly my penultimate position? Is there nothing else in store for me? 

But my wondering doesn't usually end there. I also tend to wonder, on those days when nothing seems to go my way (and there are many of them!), what I could have done to deserve whatever annoyance is plaguing me at that moment.

I have often asked myself if, in some previous life (okay, not so loud with the aha! so he does believe in somethings! out there, please) I was someone so awful that I have been sent back in present form to endure feelings of helplessness, suffering, stupidity and wonderment at just how screwed up I an my fellow man can be from time to time. In that vein I also include the sometimes incredible frustration at not having much to show in terms of what many call success - I am consistently and perseveringly broke, I cannot manage on the normal paycheck I earn, and I am not by any means living a lavish lifestyle, but rather a spartan one. 

Maybe this is it. It won't get any better than this... oh, no. What a horrid thought - I have to banish that one immediately. 

So the next step is obvious - just hope for the best (all the while expecting the worst) and keep living along... maybe someday I will have the luxury of being able to write the book I've always wanted to pen. 

In the meantime, however, the question remains unanswered - what should I do with the rest of my life? Stay here? Go somewhere else and start all over again Bide my time and see what develops? 

For the time being, I'm staying put. Even though South Africa, for all its beauty, is an extremely frustrating place to be and start over from scratch, I think I'll not just fold up my tent and pull up my stakes and go, but rather tough it out a little while longer.  Perhaps the key is to take secret and nearly perverse pleasure in hanging in there, not giving in and giving those forces that would frustrate me a run for their money. And perhaps getting more familiar with what makes this place tick so as to be able to use that to my advantage will help, too... 

So, dear blog, let's just conclude this rather pensive and absorbed installment with the notion that no matter how many frustrating little vexations, silly experiences, used cars that need repairs after having exhausted my budget, little drug-addicted lying leeches, dishonest business- and tradespeople, badly made South African products, rip-offs, discouragements, etc. you lay in my way, I'm resolved to overcome them all and stay, even if just to frustrate every one I can by doing so.