The Apple of Discord

I'm nineteen and ideally, I have my whole life ahead of me. Taking into account the average lifetime of a human being in the gloriously dangerous 21st century, I still have fifty-one years to go. Not bad, I guess. Hopefully I don't get run over by a jeepney or die from street food poisoning any time in the near future—not that I mind dying you see—but I assume it's some primeval urge to live as long as possible even if you find that your life is a rather pointless son of a bitch.

You heard it right, pointless. I'm in a course which I like in a lukewarm sort of way. Translation: I dislike it. I have nothing planned out in the next five years except to bum around in jobs which will get me the clothes and books I like. What a shallow plan I know, but a shallow plan is better than no plan. Also, being in love is a Really Nice Thing, but it makes me uncomfortable in a squirmy sort of way. Love is not something you meddle with even in kid gloves. I think you need nuclear-resistant asbestos suits before you go within eleven feet of it.

I don't know what I want beyond the little everyday things my aimless life have dealt and is dealing with at the moment. I'm just sloshing through life in a vague sort of way, living it out by second, by hour, without a religion, without a god, amoral. What a horrible way to spend the next fifty-one years—I can hear you whisper and sometimes scream. Maybe I envy you sometimes for being so sure about things, but you'll never hear me admit it because I am stubborn like that. And really, when you sit down and think about it, a pointless life is not so bad. There is a point in being pointless, you know.

So. Fifty-one years. This reminds me of a little story I read back in fifth grade. Do you know who the Goddess of Discord is? I would be surprised if you do. She's not as glamorous as Aphrodite or Athena, or that fag, Apollo. I mean if your name starts with an 'A' you ought to be glamorous for the life of you, just because. But her name starts with an 'E' and it's Eris. She did a rather clever thing which involved a golden apple engraved with the words for the fairest, three petty goddesses, Helen, Greeks, Trojans, and a fake horse.

There is a point to that story, but it has escaped my puny mind as of the moment.

indirect anwer to the questions of  Saturn and Dan.