I am Don Quixote DE LA MANCHA!
I am by all means a modern day Don Quixote. Let's just look at it for a second.
I live a fairly mundane life; I go to school, work, and sit in my room on my computer.
I read a massive amount of books.
I am completely unsatisfied with industrial society; I do nothing in my free time but sit around and come up with these bullshit, romanticized, quixotic fantasies in my head. They are delusions of grandeur, at least somewhat. I dream of being a knight, riding in to battle to uphold the sovereign of my noble lord or The Pope himself. Perhaps I am a medieval war bishop.
Or I'm floating in space, cruising through the cosmos at light speed; I can go anywhere I choose in a matter of seconds. I ride ride to the most cold, isolated points of the universe. I can fly to the edges of time and space.
Or perhaps the setting is the Wild West. I'm a gun fighter. It's high noon. I'm staring into the eyes of a battle-hardened man; a killer. I'm an enforcer of the law-- a Texas Ranger with hands as swift as a rattle snake. I notice the almost imperceptible twitch of a hand. Two shots ring out and a cloud of dust stirs in the street. The diminutive specks of dust begin to settle, and as the gun smoke dies, and the sweltering Texas heat radiates onto the faces of countless onlookers-- the fearsome outlaw, the man who has killed so many-- is an outlaw in Hell now.
But that's me. That's Cody McCurdy. I'm not malleable. I can't be beat into this stupid fucking mold that society wants. I wasn't made for a nine-to-five. I wasn't made for mainstream education. I'm Don Quixote De Melbourne!
I live a fairly mundane life; I go to school, work, and sit in my room on my computer.
I read a massive amount of books.
I am completely unsatisfied with industrial society; I do nothing in my free time but sit around and come up with these bullshit, romanticized, quixotic fantasies in my head. They are delusions of grandeur, at least somewhat. I dream of being a knight, riding in to battle to uphold the sovereign of my noble lord or The Pope himself. Perhaps I am a medieval war bishop.
Or I'm floating in space, cruising through the cosmos at light speed; I can go anywhere I choose in a matter of seconds. I ride ride to the most cold, isolated points of the universe. I can fly to the edges of time and space.
Or perhaps the setting is the Wild West. I'm a gun fighter. It's high noon. I'm staring into the eyes of a battle-hardened man; a killer. I'm an enforcer of the law-- a Texas Ranger with hands as swift as a rattle snake. I notice the almost imperceptible twitch of a hand. Two shots ring out and a cloud of dust stirs in the street. The diminutive specks of dust begin to settle, and as the gun smoke dies, and the sweltering Texas heat radiates onto the faces of countless onlookers-- the fearsome outlaw, the man who has killed so many-- is an outlaw in Hell now.
But that's me. That's Cody McCurdy. I'm not malleable. I can't be beat into this stupid fucking mold that society wants. I wasn't made for a nine-to-five. I wasn't made for mainstream education. I'm Don Quixote De Melbourne!