A Punk Without Armor in a Subjugated Land

Not to be the cliche "punk", but Johnny Rotten or "John Lyndon" once said there's "NO FUTURE". Now, I know he was talking about for "England" and their whole social status during a time of great oppression and blah blah blah, I'm not english so I could give a shit about that, but I in many ways agree with this statement. There is no future, for any of this. All this grab for power, wealth, success, greatness, personal satisfaction, and above all laying grounds for "moving forward" or a "new world" etc, etc, it's fucking.... nothing. Even writing this little interlude or what have you is overall pointless, but I'm bored so, hey.
In general, I've been seeing more and more lately that this pastime of a life is not only us (being the microorganisms of the universe that we are) trying to justify our existence, but it's also really, really disappointing.
Here I am, a young Dharma punk (read story for details) stuck in bumbfuck Norfolk, Virginia for culinary school, trying to figure out what the hell I'm doing, what any of us are doing, with a series of short stories, misadventures (if you could call them that), and anecdotes I suppose on random, yet relevant topics looking for something, or even someone, that's worth riding this vessel that is my body with my eternal energy, and striding through this confused world.