>the kind that’s telling you that what you’re supposed to be doing has, deep down, no real point. Kind of like when I watched the Atlantis space shuttle launch

>the kind that’s telling you that what you’re supposed to be doing has, deep down, no real point. Kind of like when I watched the Atlantis space shuttle launch and then go back to working on the code for a social bookmarking service. All joking aside, is he talking about an existential crisis, or something else? A common cause of existential crises is some kind of negative experience that prompts reflection and thinking as to why it happened, which sometimes leads to questioning the meaning of it all. The experience of which, if you went to school, you probably know pretty well. Most frequently after walking out of class after bombing a test. Working link for the aforementioned article: http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2010/10/11/101011crbo_books_surowiecki?currentPage=all http://www.newyorker.com/arts/critics/books/2010/10/11/10101...