Dreams fade. Cynicism inevitably conquers. Everyday I worry less about what happens and more about why I don't care. What a silly world we live in. I imagine the world where I would have made things with my hands. I detest the world in which I sell ass-kissing and platitudes in exchange for a short vacation and living wage. I'm useless. We all are. Why would I raise my hands to the heavens when little children will gleefully make me a pair of gloves?
I'm in the noble class of the new world order. Press thine cold steel against my brow and have those willing to call poverty perverse raise me up into the night as I receive my knighthood. I could have been born in Sudan. I could have proudly called myself an Iranian. I could have toiled in triumph in a rice paddy laid long ago in North Korea. No. Never. I was born into privilege and pomp with little respect for those with lesser. I am an American. I am better. I have the proverbial leg up and should be doing something with it.