Memoirs of the American Dream

We are all drones. Albeit drones to our jobs, wives, husbands, or a higher power...we all follow the orders of someone else while ignoring our own self-satisfactions. Take a glance at the world around us, the poor old man standing at the door at walmart, who always greets you with a smile. He stands for eight hours with minimal break, just to earn a living so that he can something other than cat food because his social security isn't enough to live on. Do we ever even give him a second thought as we walk past with that blind eye? Of course not, because our lives are much more important than to give a shit about a lonely old man. That may have sounded sarcastic but in reality it's very much true. We all have our own concerns, so much so that we never even think about the dude next to us. Work, family, and money all have us by the balls and there is absolutely nothing that we can do. There are many very talented individuals out there who have the ability to be very successful but will never reach their full potential.

When in grade school, the question that plagues every adolescent is what they want to be when they grow up. What kid in their right fucking mind would say that they want to sit at a cubicle for forty hours a week just to make some big corporation even richer and in addition to that have to deal with over-zealous bastards above you in the food chain? Of course not and the answers range from doctor to president, to which the teacher usually coaxes their dreams by saying they can accomplish anything they set their to...what a bunch of horseshit. But to those kids who do end up in that torture chamber from hell known as the american workplace, who the hell feels sorry for them? Nobody because they made that choice. Well not one single person actually makes a conscious decision to devote their life to some bullshit job that pays just enough to keep the lights on this week. Sure, we are granted full will power and it is not the exact definition of slave labor, although it is close, but then again there are circumstances beyond our control that seem to slap us in such positions. It is almost like we were destined to not accomplish a damn thing in our lives other than reproduce, pay taxes, and become miserable.

Be That As It May...These Are Simply Memoirs of a Work in Progress...