Part of my MFA application is to write a "statement of purpose," a common essay for graduate school applications. So, I've dedicated this fine Saturday night (having procrastinated all the way through Wednesday evening, all day Thursday and all day yesteday) to discovering my purpose.
Besides the knowledge that I always try to write purpose "porpose" I have come to the startling realization that I have no purpose. I'm sure it's there, like it exists, but it's kind of a tall order to expect me to state my porpose (see, there I go again) in an organized essay that I'll be judged on, compared to God knows how many other people, where a committee will say "Gee, does this girl have the right purpose? Hmm. Does she have purpose?"
Purpose is one of those words, incidentally, that looks funnier every time you write it until it no longer resembles a word. Just FYI.
I baked cookies late last night and today in a final attempt to avoid my purpose. Now I'm sitting at my dining room table with a bottle of captain morgan and a can of diet coke (I don't remember the last time I sat with a bottle actually within arm's reach) trying to discover my purpose. As I said to a friend tonight, every successful writer I've ever known has tried to find his/her purpose in the bottom of a bottle at some point, thus shall I.