purpose. my single greatest obsession which leads to my single biggest question which i fear will ultimately be my undoing and failure. i tell myself that what i do, more importantly, what i believe i can do well, is helpful, is good, is worth doing. that there is little else i am capable of that will satisfy the unknown, implicit contract i signed by crying when i hurt and bleeding when i am cut, for living. i cannot believe that we are all here because of one chance meeting of two unfamliar molecules. i am committed to working collectively, with their knowledge or without, with their conset or without, with others to work effectively towards revealing the good in this universe, and letting it grow. i hope, selfishly, that what i have a talented predelection of doing will help, that because i can, and can well, is telling in its conception absolutely. but subtracting from this everyting that i think i know, all i am left with, as usual, is the hope that i might be right, and good, and not arbitrary. my sin is vanity, i think.