If you Google-search the question, “What does it mean?”, Google wants you to further define your question. It seems that when people type that question, they mostly are concerned with acronyms. The most popular result seems to be – What does R.S.V.P. mean? Nothing in my search results seemed promising or even interesting, a real let down, a bunch of crap. I scooted down to the bottom of the page to related searches. What kind of deep, meaningful searches and perplexing questions were being asked to Google; I was curious. We’re looking for knowledge, wisdom, the meaning of life on the internet … why not Google it?

Is it strange to ask a computer, “What does it mean to be human?” or “What does it mean to be Catholic?” or (here is my favorite related search) “Protein in urine, what does it mean?” Hmm. Maybe we need more people to talk to? And perhaps the last person just needs to advice of a physician, but instead we’re turning to Google. Are we giving Google too much credit or does Google usually deliver, and give us what we’re looking for?

The reason I even have to time to think about this stuff is the same reason I decided to type “What does it mean?” into my Google search bar. It happened because I’m wondering if there is any order to the universe or if it’s just a random sequence of events.

Rewind to approximately 2 weeks ago. I’m skipping class, heading to a show. It’s about 6pm. I’m standing at the bus stop, where I stand every day, only I’m waiting for a different bus. The bus stops and out runs a giant man with a backpack and glasses, his arms are crossed in front of him, and he charges right for me. Not having time to think or move, I was tackled right there on the sidewalk. And I landed on my back, more shocked than hurt. And I just sat there. The man scurried off. He didn’t take my stuff. He didn’t seem to have a real reason for doing it at all, at least I’ll never know what the reason was.

So the bus driver jumped out of the bus and was screaming at the man to get back here. Much to my surprise, the man turned around and starting running back. I was afraid he’d run into me again so I ran onto the bus. The bus driver asked the man why he did that. The man was clearly mentally disabled and simply answered, “I don’t know. It was a mistake.”  So I decided that calling the police wouldn’t do anything and I headed to the show.

The expected soreness followed soon thereafter, but nothing intense. Until … last Tuesday night I decided to play a friendly game of tennis with my tennis buddy, Lee. It seemed innocent. Until. I woke up the next morning unable to move my neck, head, or upper back. Oy. A visit from mom and one trip to the Dr.’s later, I found out that I have severe muscle spasms. So for the past few days I’ve been lying around, bored out of my mind and spending way too much time on the computer.

So what does it mean to be tackled by a giant retarded man? Who the hell knows, but unfortunately there are some questions that you just can’t Google.