Go to your iTunes/media player/WinAmp and put it all on shuffle. Say the following questions aloud, and after each one press play. Use the song title/lyrics as the answer to the question.
What do you think of me, WinAmp?
"AITheme from Heroes III" - So I'm a robotic hero.
Will I have a happy life?
"Shell's Contention" by the Glengarry Bhoys - Arguementive, as I expected.
What do my friends really think of me?
"Respect" by Pink - That's good to know. I respect you too.
Do people secretly lust after me?
"Masion on the Mountain" by Canyon - "It's already there, get the notions outta your hair."
How can I make myself happy?
"But Mr. Adams," from 1776 - Yep, writing usually does make me happy, even if it's only "light extemporania."
What should I do with my life?
"Captain Randall" by Glengarry Bhoys - "Pick up the rum and we'll head her home." Yep, there's some definite wisdom in going south.
Why must life be so full of pain?
"Piddle Twiddle and Resolve" from 1776 - "A second flood, a simple famine, a plague of locusts everywhere, or a cataclysmic earthquake I'd accept with some despair, but no, you sent us Congress! Dear God, sir, was that fair?"
How can I maximize my pleasure during sex?
"What's the Frequency, Kenneth?" by REM - "I started concentrating on music..."
Will I ever have children?
"Symphony no. 9" by Scherzo - I'm choosing to interpret that as nein.
Will I die happy?
"Clint Eastwood" by Gorillaz - "I'm not happy, I'm feeling glad..."
Can you give me some advice?
"Sports Night" from Jasc Software - So, I should go out to a game, then? Broomball, here I come!
What do you think happiness is?
"Act of Remembrance" by the Proclaimers - Family and forgiveness. Ah, but you would choose such a sad one.
What's my favourite fetish?
"Heartbreak Town" by Dixie Chicks - Men who break my heart? Yeah, that sounds about right.
And, because I can, a random drabble:
Tonight, he has promised himself, things will be different. Tonight, he will ask.
He stares at the floor. It’s made of gray tiles, but not all the same shade. White with light flecks, black with darker flecks, speckled gray. And some that are just plain gray, scattered throughout. There’s no particular order to them. Here, two long rows of color snake around each other, and disappear, like trains on a mountainside. There, little islands of black cluster together in a gray-white sea. There are no overriding patterns to it.
There are no overriding patterns to life. It might change something, or it may not. Still, he has to ask, in order to impose some order upon himself.