Carole’s spent a good portion of the day studying existentialism.
Which is just a fancy name for bullshit, at the end of the day. Carole loves bullshit. She laps it up with gay abandon. Honestly, you make up a bullshit phrase and publish it in a book with a title about controlling your destiny and she’s all over that shit.
So I was genuinely surprised when she declared existentialism to be utter bunkum.
Especially when a lot of the things she was coming up with as examples of the complete horseshit nature of the whole subject were things that, in other fields, she can’t get enough of.
And yet here she is, dismissing the very nature of a knife always knowing its going to be a knife even when its just a lump of metal, where mere days ago she was riding on the wave of her digital tarot card (nope, I don’t know either) giving her the power to plough on through what was an absolute mountain of work that was crammed into her inbox.
Honestly, you think you’ve got a handle on how she operates and what thing she likes and dislikes and then, blammo, she tells you that existentialism is just a waste of time and energy and that everything is just bollocks for bollocks’ sake.
I’ve never been prouder of her.
Because there was a chance, going into this unit of her studies, that she was going to come out the other side of it wearing a beret and quoting Sartre to me as though the whole of human understanding had just opened up in front of her, and I would – for the rest of my days – be rolling my eyes with such alarming regularity that I may as well just have them pointing into the top of my head as standard, just to save my eye muscles the work.
And, let’s be very clear here, I do roll my eyes quite a lot as it is…