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| | Ambition, Reprise, Conflict
Ambition
There's a funny side-effect of reality, ironically, when compared to dreams. One would normally equate the two as oil water- dreams, the quixotic realm of all romanticism, and reality, the harsh destroyer of such. And yet, on so many subversive levels they intermingle, almost like a slow steady waltz, so subtle, but so consistent that it fades into the background of ours lives. We have an image of them both, and an imagined pace for each of their steps; we search for such, and label thusly. And so our lives become full of either flowers or grime. We never see the two smiling at each other, hand in hand. "You must dream, son!" we hear, or perhaps, "I'm afraid, my daughter, that is naught but romanticism; the real world works differently." Maybe each thought bears truth, yet there is a couplet...and dare I verge more towards my own tendency of romanticism, I would call said couplet more so a wedding band.
The real world...oh, the harsh connotation therein! Why so? "Experience," one would say. It seems I have now had my own. I approach the end of this first college school year, and though my memory of it seems naught but a blur, it has undoubtedly coined itself "hellish." There have been wonders and greats, but there have been late-nights and cares and burdens that would make me fear the happiness of the rest of my life. I have been buried in some dark cave, as it would seem. Yet there is light to it, a line between futile pessimism and hopeful optimism- true reality, the very couplet of dreams, true hope, of which I speak.
If anything I have learned, it is that, just as dire and pressing and sometimes inevitable tribulations may be, your thoughts, your intentions, your hopes are the same. Life's events are a byproduct of choices, be it your's, others', or that of chance. But though affected, we are not governed by any choices but our own. As real as any assault upon our way of life may seem, our will, our dreams, are just as real, if not even more so. We may retain that, hold it to our last breath, and through fire or flood keep it as truth.
For so long as it is there, we are making that choice, and that choice changes our life...and hopefully, if intent be of love, those about us as well. And this intent, ah, the beautiful part, it may be the dream you will.
That is ambition, my friends. If it is there, if we hold it, it is just as real as all of life. If it withers, it is because we allow it. What destroys are dreams is not quite "the real world" as thought; it is our compromise. Sometimes, such is better, but it is up to choice. "Is this worth fighting for? Is this worth the change?" these are the questions to ask. Nonetheless, if "yes" embodies the response, fling words such as "impractical" or "silly" out the window. It is part of you. It is true. It is your choice. It is your ambition.
And so, it is so very very real.
And if you fight for it, if you work for the change, then see no reason to doubt its presentation in tangible form. That is what has formed so much reality. Many's dreams have shaped it. If them, then so us. Chance forces its hand, but we choose. Others intervene, but we choose. Yet a cordial smile they may extend as well.
I have been through rough times, and I have felt awful, yet in the end I realize I still had the choice. Chance battered me, as did the power of others', but my smile may have been my own, my intent was my own, and I may still do whatever I may to accomplish my goal. I am ambitious. And I feel that somehow, no matter what may come, I can do as I hope to. I have the impetus within me, it is real, and at the core, impetus, of some form or fashion, is what delineates life as it is.
And so dreams and reality dance. They may because they are so intertwined in truth. Our hope, our intent, our passions, they are the couplet, and our ambition, the music for their waltz.
Reprise
A few weeks ago, I passed my way through a graveyard. Among many tombstones of so very many hopeful sayings, I found, just barely etched in weather worn stone letters was perhaps the saddest phrase I've ever heard- "All we know is they came and went."
And perhaps I am cynical, but among all the tombstones, that one seemed the most true.
For we live and we die; it is what was inbetween that might have changed the etching on that elegy...but sadly different. Our lives seem focused elsewhere. Our elegies seem a form of narcissism- "We are to Heaven," of what we have tried throughout our life. We attempt a good life, and a good afterwards. Yet I must point back to that singular tombstone...for all such is nothing but a statistic.
I am unsatisfied with simply living the good life. On the other hand, I wish for no grand elegy either, if even an unmarked block, but when strolling through such a necropolis and thinking upon what it means to simply live a good life... I find it a waste.
I must echo my heart's continual cry that this our chance. I repeat my hope to live on a much grander scale, to live in love. I will continue with my desperate, and unable to be believed foolish, dream. Again, I say, may we change the world.
It is my goal, in whatever form, be it extreme or minuscule. I can not just attempt to live a good life, to do no ill and prosper. Perhaps that method is well, but though said before, my heart shouts otherwise. For no elegy, for self-endearment, maybe, not even so for Heaven, but simply because the path lay before us, because it can be done, because it should be.
...because so many souls long for it to be...
I have tasted the "good life." Material possessions, being well-provided for, involved in the world, success, pleasure. They taste of ambrosia but never satiate. I have seen it in college, the class and credit of progress, the grade and goal of a bountiful carrier. I have the possibility for the good life, the success, the leisure, the lack of care, and yet what I see, the mundanity of it all. I can not look upon such a future and feel anything but empty.
We must love, we must cry for it, yearn for it! Such thoughts reverberate continuously, yet they are so important to me. They must be the chorus of my life, the repetition, the part that matters.
And if I have an elegy, though small and weather worn, may that be it.
For in bluntness, or better said, "truth," I wish to change the world. And that, I can not escape.
This is my song.
Love, love, love...
This is my hope.
Love, love, love...
This is my joy.
Conflict
The school year ends within two weeks, though "aeon of strife" has seemingly been a valid description. For it, my bones are worn and my soul is tired, but with its end begins summer and new light. Ere soon ends what has battered me beyond the hours of human sanity and sleep deprivation each night. Yet in the crossfire of my own hopes and what I have learned within such cumbersome toils, I find new struggle.
Now...I'm not quite sure what to do...
I entered college overjoyed. "I will do this!" I said. "I can study this and get this degree and this job and..." I ever so eagerly continued. And though my tone may berate the statement, such choices and thoughts have not quite found themselves errant. It is, however, in light of my ambitions, my resolves of life though, that I simply must question.
At the moment, I'm studying biochemistry. I've somehow landed in our quite-frankly, cutting-edge structural biology lab at my university, shall begin working on real research next semester, and am quite possibly on my way to becoming a successful geneticist/drug designer. The enigmas of chemistry, of life, enrapture me, and I find the thought of all such intricate complexities of life astounding. Here I could do something I enjoy, help design medicinal cures, and have quite good job stability...and yet...
...Here also I could waste away in school. I'm good at school, I have a straight 4.0, but I am so burnt-out. When I think of what matters to me, the few years of school required seem so needless in comparison to the important of life. And though four years may seem enough, grad school would be a necessity as well, not to mention the increasing pressures of seeking a PhD. How much time must I spend for success? Not only here in school, but also in the job itself? And will I become caught up in it? It could all become just simple mundane.
So as the dream job, I've thought about photography. I love photography. I may be a massive wannabe, but I feel, given the focus, I could produce what would possibly be considered quality work. Not of hubris, but more so dreaming, I state that my friends support the notion, and I somehow managed to get recognized by the university for some of my stuff. I could for certain enjoy this job. No corporate setting, no mundanity, and importantly so, I could have the time to do what will fall into the key aspect of life- helping others...and yet...
...Job security, or even getting into the field for that matter, is an undeniable stroke of hopeful luck. Now, I feel I could do it, at least to a small degree, but the goals I have make this "small degree" possibly inadequate. I need no vast amount of wealth, but I do want stability for whoever is unlucky enough to be my eventual wife, and also, as will be a main front of my life, I want the resources to be able to help people, which, unfortunately for this society, means money, at least for much of my pursuits. Of course, as well, the issue of what schooling and the bothersome cares still associate themselves with this as well.
Then, to show just how entirely uncertain I am, dare I say it, I've even briefly considered politics. I loath even the word, but day by day I see more and more corruption within society, and it seems having a voice within the populace would be the only way to have enough influence to change such. Here would be great resources and a much broader effect for helping people than what I might have if I simply took one of my typical job choices...and yet...
...Well, let's face it, I'm not going into politics, at least not directly. It makes me sick. And I'm pretty sure I can't withstand more than three credit hours of political science classes anyway. But the thought does stick, and the benefits of it makes me question other areas.
Such as how am I to help? To who? Which of my talents should I use? Should I write books? Should I give speeches? Should I give from my pocket? Should I go on missions? Should I simply tread with a smile?
How does one start with the intent of changing the world?
Am I crazy? No, certainly not, regardless of how silly it may seem for such high hopes to fuel a war of direction within me. I feel no qualm in defending that.
Yet confused I am, with the clock slowly ticking "decide."
And so it appears some skirmish shall always be present within the human heart. Whichever side wins, may we battle for it with all our might.
Ambition (n)- an earnest aspiration, a longing; a drive, a force
Reprise (v)- to return to an original theme; to repeat
Conflict (n)- to come into collision or disagreement; a fight or a battle
...And so seems life.
There are still two weeks left of school. I have hoped, ever so redundantly, to have been able to write in this consistently. It helps, and often, I feel I need it, but as you may find from the vents of previous posts, my time has been ever so short. In thus you may not hear much from me for another week or so, yet victory is at hand, and the dern finals shall soon be vanquished. Geeze, it's time to be back on here more, and by then, I certainly should be. : )
| | | Posted 4/20/2008 2:59 AM - 1 comments
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