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A flicker of movement was sensed in my cerebral cortex the other day. Or whatever part of the brain that ignites those thoughts that are claimed to be "genius". You know, those which exceed the average 5% the normal human uses. Aren't blanketed statements wonderful? And that's what got me thinking. Life plays out these wonderful puzzles. I speak in plural terms because there's so many ways to connect the dots. But hang in there for a minute while I play this out. I saw strands of time link with each other to give me one very large question. Perhaps you can answer it. I've read The Great Gatsby. At first, I wasn't entirely impressed by its short and choppy flow. But then I understood that that was its purpose. We are an impatient species, enticed by quick, vivid descriptions and lots of action. With the ocassional soundbite we skim through our vision of the world. In the eary 1920's, we discover one very popular belief: (I say popular in the terms that the book is world famous, and not necessairly in regards to whether the general belief was accepted or not) life isn't what it seems. We all strive towards a goal, whether it be prosperity, prestige, affection etc. But what happens if we maintain the goal until we achieve it? Is there nothing else to achieve? Do we become paranoid that this can't be it and so we create new goals so that we never truly achieve everything and in some way keep ourselves going for the sake of going or greed? Okay, I'm getting ahead of myself here. Let's say we took one path. Say we achieved the dream and we said "let's park it right here in perfectland". Well then, how does one continue? Throughout the novel the reader sees that the characters feel something is missing, and ruin their perfection, or their perception of perfection. Was it because the person's dreams were not genuine to begin with, or was it because once you've achieved something all the work is done? Or perhaps, by nature it crumbles so that we can rebuild ourselves. Is happiness meant to be maintained? Flip through approximately 60 years to a new world of materialism, wealth and class. More specfically, television. For those of us who didn't have the stars aligned in our favour for the "big win", we enjoyed watching shows, or soap operas that made us feel better about ourselves. Like Dallas. To inform the uninformed reader, Dallas was a TV soap opera beginning in 1978 through to 1990 which followed the lives of a rich texan oil family and the disaster that comes with power,greed and money. Along with the lust and empty love we almost have a reprecussion of The Great Gatsby. Except here's the twist. Now we see the world falling apart, and I'm not using the royal 'we' either. I mean the entire world is watching it. Why is this important you may ask? Well think about this. We've always masked the truth. We've always wanted to live the dream. And when we know that we can't live the dream, but the next best thing, or a few notches down the list best thing, we like to know that those who do live the dream, aren't actually.That money can't buy happiness. These were the strands that tied together a ball of yarn in my mind. I just thought it was totally tubular. Utterly fascinating. That we've done a 360 on how we see the world. There is no such thing as the dream. There's no such thing as old money, but older money. All your parents worked their butts off to get where they are. So if its your greatgrandfather who made the big dough, commend him. Don't butcher him because Sally's great great great grandfather made the millions before you. None of us sprouted from Heaven (despite Jesus which is still under investigation). We all worked hard, guaranteed we all came from the bottom of the list, because anyone who was anyone way back when would have been killed off revolutionary syle, or by their own overdosing means. So I've slid onto another tangent (I haven't bothered to count, this isn't a formal essay). I don't know about you, but I wouldn't necessairly be proud to go up to Mr.Jones over there and say "Hey, I'm spending my grandpa Joe's hard-earned fortune because I don't need to work, and I'll never need to. I won't learn the essence of life, but of luxury, and that my goal in life is to dwindle into nothingness, by which self-destruction will occur at somepoint. You know, because only the bottom of the list survive. Do you actually think anyone is going to try and maintain this wealth? Hell no, hey, pass that cigar over there, yeah, the one in the solid gold ash tray". Now I have nothing against the wealthy. I especially am in fond admiration to those who actually earned their fortunes. The fair and square way. Where as J.R. Ewing,well, he can go to hell the way he's maintaing his fortune (snippet of Dallas, because everything really does connect). And now I sound like this all-mighty God speaking of moral and amoral actions and the way of life. I know no one will read this, and I doubt that those who will read this will agree with me. I just had one thought,then another, and another and so on and so forth. All I'm saying is this. We are really twisted. And that's overly-concrete, but you know what? Sometimes we need it, if everything was as bloody complex as we see it to be, well then, what's the point you know? What is the point of goals again? -------- I feel for ya Atlas. or should I feel proud of Prometheus?
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