It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
- Ulysees, Tennyson
The whole world seems like a big unblotted sheet of canvas. Thats what i heard somebody say describing his feeling on his graduation day. Armed with paintbrushes and sure as he can ever be of his talent when teh young renegade tries to whoosh that brush across the canvas a voice looks over his head and asks - "You really wanna do that son?? "
the surety is still there..of course ...cant you see that whoosh is gonna be the beginning of something wonderful.
the voice : "sure? what if its not?...you cant erase anything you know."
well you dont really care...i'll just get a new canvas the voice inside nudges you ahead.
and again as you bring that brush confidently down, the voice behind takes out his burly hand and just lightly holds the brush and says " well lets just wait a second and ponder over what we are gonna do"
the mind is trying to figure out since when did "we" start to do something. i thought i was going to draw the picture here.
Im getting such whiffs in my summer project these days. what promised out as an amazing oppurtunity to dirty my hands in the suave sleek world of corporate marketing is each day threatening to turn into a little bit more than the assignment that i did on customer behavior in the third trimester.
You dont get to do anything until youve proven yourself and by the time you have proven yourself you are a generation too old and you dont really see the present. it really is an orwellian animal farm out there.