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08.21.04 - 9:01 p.m. :snip: I don't know where start when trying to explain how I got to where I am today. Don't mistake me, I'm not building up to a story that ends with me on top of a social ladder or CEO of WorldCorp or anything. I'm not to a destination worth leading, but then again most of us would claim the same. Mediocrity is easily attained and sustained; providing you were born in the right country. They tell me I was. Being born in America is weird. Not weird as in, "what are the chances?" But weird in the sense you are born into some sort of Elite World club, for there is no country greater or free-er...but, all the niceties aside, there's a lot of pressure to be an upstanding American. You have to purchase so many things...and they can't be just generic, average, everday things. They've got to be brand-named and new and covetted. Americans HAVE things and the means to get more. Pressure, I tell ya, and I, like many not-talked about people, buckled under the pressure and gave up...not in appearance. Appearance is the last to go. It's the American way. First, let me explain my emotional delimma. I've been traing to figure it out myself for years. What I have is a bad case of, "Something's missing." I've been led to believe through the sponge-soaking of my formative years, that we are all born with a purpose and the necessary tools to attain that goal. Being an American and white male at that, I'm to believe that if I dream it, I can achieve it...no dream too big or too small...aim for the highest star and the like. What happens when you forget the dream...and dare I extend the metaphor to...what if the night sky is overcast? I dare. As a kid I had too much going on to hone in on my natural talents and begin drawing up a blue print for my own personal perfect American life. And that is when it needs to begin, at childhood...if not in the womb, because apparently when you reach the age of 16 your brain begins to shrivel up and lacks the ablility to develop those inert natural talents. Who knows with the right mentors I could've been an olympic tramploline Gold medalist? Sadly, I guess, I didn't have such tutorage as a child, so I ended up with dead inert talents and no chance at resurecting them. At least, that is what I've been led to believe, but if I'm wathching Oprah...than all hope is rekindled...unless your one who's become disenchanted with the idea of Carpe' Diam, which I have, in which case sarcastic social commentary on the negative impact of positive thinking is seemingly much more constructive and witty. There comes a point where the search for the ulitimate wit, and the observations of American society gone bad, become tired and without point. This is where I am. The place where seeing the fault of humanity loses its charms. Where do you go to find a shiny new enthusiasm? Who do you gotta fuck to get a little self-worth in this country? I jest. Sort of. Thus begins my journey. To find why the American dream is so appealing to Americans...namely me, and what drove the two most influencial, albeit negatively, people in my life to do the things they did? My stepfather for being there to show me what it feels like to be physically and mentally abused. And my grandfather for teaching at the age of 5 what his ejacualtion was, and giving me the opportunity to experience my first on his old bloated belly. :snip:
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