I picked up an odd bit of a philosophical outlook from, of all places, the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy text game. At one point, there you are, Arthur Dent, strapped to some chair/torture device, listening to Vogon poetry. It is the most awful, horrible, painful experience that you/he has ever experienced. You want it to stop. You'll do anything, just to make it stop.

Yet, the solution to the puzzle demands that you type in the phrase "enjoy poetry". Then you hit enter. Then you/Arthur Dent, enjoys the poetry.

Years later, after I grew up and became more worldly and experienced and educated or whatever, I came to realize that that little bit of game text right there was Sartre's absurdist Sisyphus in miniature. Confined to Hell, condemned to a pointless pursuit by a vengeful Zeus, King Sisyphus found comfort or hope or satisfaction (or whatever) in the struggle of pushing that damn boulder up the slope. It didn't matter if it ever reached the top.