Where do we find meaning in life? We put a lot of stock in formed plastic. Plastic of various colors, although primarily beige. Large empty sitting halls are a favorite. In this part of the country we cannot get enough of truly putrid churches and fellowship halls. Brown and yellow inside. Windowless exteriors. We get together inside them and press up against one another for as long as we can bear it. Often hours at a time. Older ladies are allowed to hold down small children and force their make up on them. Real thick layers of oil paints and toilet water. The men stare at one another and dare each other to eat cigarettes. Everybody shakes hands too hard.

Then we head to the basements or parking lots for shared washings with buckets of ice water. All of this makes us feel not so lost. Not as adrift as the rest of the week.

Others find meaning in tearing up cardboard into little strips and eating it. Some of us wake in a panic, deep into the night, and have to shine a flashlight on our American flag to make sure it's really there. That we weren't just dreaming all this.

A few of us can't stop having children.

Personally I find meaning in keeping coupons well past their expiration date and then vainly attempting to redeem them amid much yelling, cursing and property damage. It's my right and mine alone.

I also find meaning in my lawn.

Chris Weagel

Chris Weagel writes about the intersection of technology and parenting for Wired Magazine. No he doesn't. He can't stand that shit.

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