Ashes to Ashes
Monday, April 11, 2011
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Sisyphus
Will I ever succeed at getting this boulder on top of the mountain without it falling back down again?
It has been a semester of the same unending cycle. I work, I see a glimmer of success, and then I'm shot down to ground zero. Too much I build up hope, hope that I will be recognized for who I am and what I do. When I become close enough to recognition, enough where I can smell its desirable sweetness, the smell fades away, leaving me with the empty desire that can no longer be satisfied. But I still yearn for it. I want to taste that smell and know what it feels like to have the opportunity to do so; but it denies itself to me.
Why reward a man for who he is and what he does if he does not thoroughly know himself? I feel like an invisible man, transparent to everyone, including myself. People don't know what to think of me. They don't know that I'm there. I'm just another face that wears other faces. What do you do with a man who has no definite personality, a man who keeps an arsenal of different masks and goes through them at will? A man like that scares people; they don't know what to think. They refuse to recognize, for it is unclear what exactly there is to recognize. And yet, all the man desires is recognition. Without it, there can be no establishment of a definite personality. Without it, the man can not be himself, for he knows not himself, but only of the opinions others paint of him. He is forced to wear masks, forced to be a puppet of acceptance, bending to the will of the master as a slave unable to break his bonds.
But there is a key; and that key is recognition. The task is to achieve that key. Until that boulder stays atop the mountain, the man shall be enslaved to his never-ending task.
It has been a semester of the same unending cycle. I work, I see a glimmer of success, and then I'm shot down to ground zero. Too much I build up hope, hope that I will be recognized for who I am and what I do. When I become close enough to recognition, enough where I can smell its desirable sweetness, the smell fades away, leaving me with the empty desire that can no longer be satisfied. But I still yearn for it. I want to taste that smell and know what it feels like to have the opportunity to do so; but it denies itself to me.
Why reward a man for who he is and what he does if he does not thoroughly know himself? I feel like an invisible man, transparent to everyone, including myself. People don't know what to think of me. They don't know that I'm there. I'm just another face that wears other faces. What do you do with a man who has no definite personality, a man who keeps an arsenal of different masks and goes through them at will? A man like that scares people; they don't know what to think. They refuse to recognize, for it is unclear what exactly there is to recognize. And yet, all the man desires is recognition. Without it, there can be no establishment of a definite personality. Without it, the man can not be himself, for he knows not himself, but only of the opinions others paint of him. He is forced to wear masks, forced to be a puppet of acceptance, bending to the will of the master as a slave unable to break his bonds.
But there is a key; and that key is recognition. The task is to achieve that key. Until that boulder stays atop the mountain, the man shall be enslaved to his never-ending task.
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