I have a bad feeling (ha) about the future of Tumblr now that it’s owned by the most confusing, cluttered, un-navigable website on the Internet. I have visions of ADS! ADS! ADS! all over my dashboard. After all, no one buys something for $B that they don’t think they’ll make $2B on. Even if their wish is naive, I’m sure they’ll try like hell to make it happen.

This all started crumbling for me before, though, when two of my favorite (and responsible) people at Tumblr resigned and when, soon after (though unrelated, I’m sure), Tumblr inexplicably pulled my black dashboard from me, made me suffer with the puke-teal-grey color that I loathe, and refused to respond to anyone’s questions about the insipid decision.

Still, the Staff account hasn’t addressed the “Tumblr Community” that they were somehow awarded a Webby for, about the sale and letting us know what’s in store for all our data, etc. I don’t know, maybe they have and I missed it.

Do I sound like a bitter 4-year old? I was curious about your take on the whole thing.

I’m not worried.

We’ve had half a decade with Tumblr, which is a goddamned eon in internet years. We’ve watched it grow from a few thousand hipsters in Brooklyn to a hundred million hipsters all over the world. We’ve lived through the inception of the like button, the ridiculousness that was Tumblarity, countless error screens patronizing us with those damned TumbleBeasts, and all the while, we’ve never had a search function that actually worked.

Tumblr has always been a sloppy mess. It’s a treehouse for the cool kids. It was slapped together in the backyard of the internet by amateurs who were just figuring out how to use a hammer and nails. There’s spray paint on the walls and a pile of porn in the corner next to a boom box and the stoner kid’s bong. We all come up here to escape our boring lives and our annoying parents and listen to music and make out with each other. We feel like it’s ours, even though it’s been in someone else’s yard the whole time.

Yahoo paid a billion dollars for our treehouse, which is fucking nuts when you think about it, because the treehouse is worthless as soon as the cool kids decide to stop coming. We know it, they know it, and they know we know it. That’s why I’m not worried.

Yahoo needs us to keep showing up. They need us to keep looking at porn and figuring out how to do bong rips and making out with each other in the corner. They desperately need us, and maybe they charge a couple hundred grand to let corporations sneak in and spray paint something on the wall. So what? It’ll get painted over in a day.

But hey, who knows? Maybe Yahoo will fuck it up big time. Maybe they’ll come in and knock down the walls and put up permanent billboards. I doubt it. I don’t think they’re that stupid. They paid a billion dollars for the treehouse with the cool kids, and if we don’t want to play here anymore, they’re shit out of luck.

Still, if they fuck it up, they fuck it up. There’s nothing we can do. It’s not ours. It never was. That’s okay, though. Nothing lasts forever, especially a treehouse, and all those fun times we had together? Those will always be ours. They can never have them.

Due to the fact that everything is meaningless, I have no motivation whatsoever to do anything in particular with my life. I keep myself busy by fulfilling my basic human needs of water, food, sleep, internet and weed. Outside of that, fuck all happens.

This has been made worse by learning vipassana meditation techniques. Now even my obsession with a cute stoner boy has dissolved and I am fucking bedridden with boredom. I’m not even miserable, I’m irritatingly equanimous. How can I stimulate some sort of desire to make a positive contribution to society and how do I figure out what type of contribution to make? Its really hard to make decisions when you see everything as equal measures of dark and light. I am literally just sitting here in a hotel with too much money, no responsibilities, and I am debilitatingly free. Are you looking for an assistant or know anyone that needs a blank slate to train as their slave?

By the way, I know I’m in a pretty fucking enviable situation right now, I’m not complaining. Just looking for direction.

You don’t need direction. Direction is just a path. You need purpose. Purpose is the engine that propels you down that path, and without it, you are adrift.

Of course, finding purpose is easier said than done, especially for those of us who’ve embraced the meaninglessness of existence. The trick is to never forget that meaninglessness is not the same thing as emptiness, and right now, you are confusing the two.

You are paralyzed. Not physically, but spiritually. You are consumed with emptiness and self-negation because you are only fulfilling your basic needs. Water, food, sleep, internet, and weed are just the bottom rung of Maslow’s Hierarchy, and not for nothin’, but the internet and weed aren’t necessarily helping your situation.

You’re missing out on a whole bunch of higher level stuff like love, belonging, esteem, and self-actualization. That’s why Vipassana is wasted on you right now. That’s why financial independence is wasted on you right now. Pretty much everything is wasted on you right now, because you are clinically depressed.

Yes, that’s right. You can call it irritatingly equanimous or debilitatingly free, but just because you’ve got some money and little Buddhism, that doesn’t mean you’re immune from your own neurochemistry.

I know you insist that you aren’t miserable, but that’s kind of the problem. Misery would at least be an emotion, and you’re totally fucking numb. One solution is to go see a shrink and let ‘em smack you upside the head with some psychopharmaceuticals. Feel free to try that. It might very well work, but you also need to get out there and find some purpose.

Here, I’ll make it easy for you:

1. Spend half an hour a day exercising. (Break a sweat.)
2. Spend half an hour a day grooming. (Take a shower.)
3. Spend a few hours a day volunteering. (Alleviate the suffering of others in some small way.)

That’s it. That’s all you have to do for now. Making a positive contribution to society doesn’t have to be a daunting task. Don’t worry about doing anything with your life, and don’t worry about any of it meaning anything.

Just do something with your day, and the rest will work itself out in time.

How do I keep myself from feeling jaded and bitter that I’ve never found anything more than the kind of sex for sale on TV?

The whole reason they’re selling that kind of sex on TV is so they can make you feel jaded and bitter about your sexuality. That’s how they get you to buy all the other silly plastic things.

Stop letting consumer culture define sex for you. You’ve never found anything more than the kind of sex for sale on TV because you haven’t even stopped to examine for yourself what the real thing might be like.

It’s up to you to figure it out. It requires self-exploration and probably a little experimentation. You have to relentlessly ask yourself “Why?” You have to be vulnerable. You have to be willing to connect with another human being on terms that you define by and for yourself.

That’s the thrilling part, the connection. I’m not talking about love. Hell, I’m not even talking about chemistry. I’m talking about a mutual and momentary annihilation of the ego through a sexual act. It’s some spiritual shit. The sex itself is almost incidental, and that’s kind of the point.

How you go about finding it is your own thing, but you have to be willing to fucking look for it. You have to recognize that it’s an internal quest. Those are never easy, and while it might occasionally leave you confused and frustrated, at least it won’t leave you jaded and bitter.

How do I respond to the assertion that I “shouldn’t advertise what’s not for sale” with my choice of dress?

Response #1 (The High Road): “It’s insulting to imply that my sexuality is for sale, and it’s disrespectful to make comments that commodify my body.”

Response #2 (The Middle Road): “How I dress is none of your business.”

Response #3 (The Low Road): “You wish you had these tits.”

What would you have as an alternative to the police? Do you think there’s a way to keep people from breaking laws without having a state monopoly on violence?

Don’t be ridiculous. The state’s monopoly on violence doesn’t keep people from breaking the law any more than the church’s monopoly on damnation keeps people from living in sin.

Let’s be clear about the real problem: Our laws don’t exist to maintain justice. Our laws exists to maintain order on behalf of a ruling class. The criminal justice system is a means of social control. Justice may occasionally be served, but it’s incidental and never at the expense of order.

Fundamentally, the police aren’t even the issue. It’s the laws themselves, specifically the ones that do nothing more than criminalize socially unacceptable behavior. The crown jewel in this argument is the war on drugs, but things have gotten so ridiculously out of hand that in this supposedly free country of ours, even the size of your sugary soda is up for regulation.

I don’t necessarily need an alternative to the police. I just want an alternative to their de facto purpose. Emergency first responders and criminal investigators are vital roles in a functioning society, but when police officers spend the majority of their time selectively enforcing victimless vice and public-order law, that’s when they start earning their reputation as jack-booted thugs in service of an Orwellian regime.

I’m lonely.  I’m in my mid-twenties and I’m surrounded by very positive feedback.  I’ve earned it, since I’m a workaholic, I seek perfection in every aspect of my life, from diet and exercise to my wardrobe.  I’m working on a novel and two screenplays, and I have three jobs.

I know I have the tendency to be a control freak, but I’m a very supportive person, and people always lean on me for advice or positive reinforcement.  I’m tired of always being the one to initiate social situations, however.  I ask people to do things all the time, but half the time they’re busy, or else I just wind up alone on weekends.

I don’t want to compromise my goals and dreams, but why do I feel so alone?  I was popular in college – what happened?

This may be tough to swallow, but your real problem isn’t that you’re lonely. It’s that you simply haven’t realized yet that you’re an asshole.

Yes, that’s right. You are a magnificent asshole. You self-identify as a “workaholic” — asshole. You say things like “I’m surrounded by very positive feedback” and “I seek perfection in every aspect of my life” without the slightest trace of irony — asshole. You brag about how many jobs you’re holding down and the number of projects you’re currently writing — asshole, asshole, asshole. I mean, come on. That was just your opening paragraph.

Don’t worry. Being an asshole is fairly common for people your age, especially overachievers who enjoyed popularity in college. The good news is that you don’t have to keep being an asshole.

All you have to do is chill the fuck out. Learn to be a serious person without taking yourself so damned seriously. Start recognizing when you’re coming off as persnickety, and stop being a control freak.

Nobody is asking you to compromise your goals and dreams. In fact, you should start reminding yourself that nobody gives a fuck about your goals and dreams. Most of the time, people don’t even give a fuck about what you say. All they really care about is how you make them feel.

So, how do you make the people in your life feel? The truth is, even though they know you’re a good person, you kind of annoy them. That’s why they only want to deal with you in small doses.

If you relax, pull the stick out of your ass, and quit treating life like it’s one big job interview, you’ll soon find that people will enjoy being around you more.

Please make a haiku

about never giving up

my strength is ebbing

Ebb and flow is the

natural movement of tides.

The moon always pulls.

This spring I’ll be graduating college. It’s taken 5 years, three degree changes and tens of thousands of dollars in loans before I found something I’m passionate about.

I’m slowly realizing I’m not passionate about it, though. I took it because it was easy and just thought-provoking enough to let me fool myself into thinking it was challenging. I feel like I’ve made a monumental mistake and am officially at a loss for what to do with my life. Thoughts?

Yep, you’ve made a monumental mistake. You’ve wasted five years and tens of thousands of dollars chasing what you thought was passion to earn a college degree that (if you’re lucky) will buy you a shitty entry level job where you can work your ass off for another five years trying to pay down those tens of thousands of dollars before one day in your late twenties it finally dawns on you that never, not once in your life, have you ever really been passionate about anything.

Of course, that part isn’t the monumental mistake. The monumental mistake is continuing to buy into the system. It’s believing you have to be passionate about some stupid college major, or that you feel like a failure because you haven’t mapped out exactly what you want to do with your entire life at an age when you’re barely qualified to answer phones and fetch coffee.

Fuck that shit. It’s perfectly okay to be clueless and terrified. The only wrong way to handle it is to freeze up and do nothing. The good news is that it doesn’t matter what you do with your life, and it sure as hell doesn’t matter what you studied in college. Just get the fuck out there and do something.

Bitch, you seem burnt out. Charred down to the soul. Which brings me to my question – I’m 22 and just got my first real job. I’m making more money than I ever have, and I’m hitting my hustle harder than I ever thought I could pound. But underneath all this I feel a distinct, deep unease. Dread, even. My question is – why? Why bother? Why put so much energy into a thing that doesn’t really mean anything, in a time and place that is so brutally senseless? Just….why.

Yeah, I’m fucking fried. It happens every once in a while, but I’m not burnt out. I’m burnt down. There’s a difference.

I’ll eventually find some fire for my pilot light, but until then, uncertainty will be fucking with my head just like it’s fucking with yours. I’m okay with that, mainly because I’ve been here before, and I know I don’t have a choice but to keep my shit together and push through it.

That’s something you’ll eventually learn too. The dread and unease will come and go. You just have to let it. Acknowledge, but don’t engage. Sit down next to your uncertainty, and don’t say a fucking word. Whatever you do, don’t start asking it questions, especially existential ones like, “why?”

It doesn’t matter why, because you will never know why. Never. Get cozy with that. When you start asking the big question, remind yourself that there is no answer, and then just let it go.

Remember, none of this has to mean anything for you to enjoy yourself.