As I approach the future, which I have anxiously awaited since childhood, I find myself more than ever torn asunder by two very different impulses:Part of my soul is that of the quiet contemplative man, an unassuming observer of things, one who is insatiably curious and childlike in a way. This man has little regard for worldly things, and scorns fame, money, and power as trappings of a mad world that has little to do with him. This man pushes me to live the life of a scholar, seeking to surround himself with books and find occupation in writing. He tells me I will find what worthwhile things there are to be had in this vocation, and that pursuing knowledge is the last noble endeavor. This is a fairly simple life he presents to me, one of a secular monk dedicated to his great work. I could live a life of this sort forever he says, because knowledge is an endless and ever-renewing thing. Through this man’s eyes I see what he would have my life become, and cannot help but smile the mirthless smirk that would become my deathmask.Then there is the other half, the loud and insatiable man for whom life is a battle to be won. This man is ambitious and imperious, for him satisfaction is the cruel joke of lesser men. For this one there is only gratification in victory and his opponent's subsequent defeat. This man wants wealth and power, the latter more than the former. This man will live a life of consequence, or will not will at all. This man pushes me to be an actor on the stage and a general on the battlefield, he implores me to fight for my convictions and strike with anger at injustice. This man is as much animal as man, and encourages me to use his animal guile and my human intellect to grasp at great and glorious things. This man moves me to wring the wheels of power from decrepit and senile hands. This man is a doer of things and will never submit to a lesser will.The stench of this world strangles the whole of my soul and makes both men cry out. My body knows the wrongness of it all, and as a result both the quiet and angry man feel its pain. “Everything is wrong,†my bones cry; the sky burns an unnatural pink, the water has a pharmaceutical taste, and the air stings with an acrid smell. The world is dying and mankind suffers the fate of the outcast animal, becoming more vicious and self-destructive in his alienation. The world is wrong and I would have it be right.I have a terrible and unfortunate condition, it is the burden of conscious, and it dictates that I cannot live in this world as most men do. I cannot live the life of one who blindly participates in things he does not believe in. I cannot be one who knowingly feeds this kamikaze culture's impulse to consume and waste itself into non-existence. I cannot make my living as a participant of the consumer driven horde. Nevertheless, I must live, and the only life I shall ever be able to tolerate is either that of the secular monk that abstains and withdraws from the world, or that of the revolutionary. I will read quietly and write ardently, or I will scream loudly from every pedestal and grasp at every strand of power I might wrench from clumsy and foolish hands.The two men war and bang their chest in their respective ways, one implores me to raise my pen, the other says to raise my fist and voice. I cannot be both of these men, for one to thrive the other must be tied hand to food, or slain outright. The strongest will win, but both are strong. All that is certain is that I will object to this world, for the body makes both men ill.I will revolt because I can do nothing else, but the instrument of my resistance is yet uncertain.Love Myspace Layouts Thanksgiving Myspace Graphics Thanksgiving Myspace Comments Halloween Myspace Graphics Halloween Myspace Comments Cute Myspace Layouts Plain Myspace Layouts Alcohol Myspace Layouts Emo Myspace Layouts Dark Myspace Layouts
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