There must be more to life than this constant faith vs. science internal debate. Sundays depress me because there's really nothing to do save for think about a lot of things you'd rather not think about. Just about everyone I know lies in on Sundays, watches some TV, has a meaninglessly unproductive day and is happy that another week is satisfactorily ended. Is that all there is, my friend, is that all there is? Either join in the rat race and focus on making money to survive, work harder so you can relax harder and convince yourself you're happy, OR show the unflattering finger to worldly concerns and do what you think you want to do until you think otherwise and wander aimlessly from vocation to vocation until you hit something that makes sense to you and gives some meaning to your existance?

I thought a lot the other day, about what it must feel like to die in a car crash. This was a few days prior to the tragic accident in which a friend of mine passed away. I imagine someone up there must think. "Oh, that's enough of that living rubbish for you" and pull a lever and down here, blissfully unaware of my fate, I would be speeding along a seemingly empty road and humming to myself and suddenly, a moment of darkness hits that is both over instantaneously, since my next thought would be when I next gain consciousness and then it would appear as if a milisecond has passed, and eternally ongoing, since I may well never actually have that next moment of consciousness at all. I wonder now what it was like for Lou, if he even felt it, or knew that this was it. I wonder if he had time for any emotions or thoughts at all, and if he did, whether he was excited about the prospect of finally finding out if all those sundays spent at Church has been worth it or not, or if he thought of the people he loved and was reluctant to leave. I wonder if he wondered if anyone would miss him, whether people he only knew "online" would wonder if he had just stopped logging in or if something horrible had happened to him, and have to content themselves with never knowing for sure. Such is the double edged sword of anonymity.