The American Dream
Some part of my psyche would feel fulfilled to walk down an aisle and start cranking out babies. The same part of my psyche still believes the American Dream is working 50 hours a week to own a brick home, to drive a Chevrolet, and to smoke Winston cigarettes while playing horseshoes at a barbecue with all the neighbors in my quaint neighborhood. That misconception is about all that remains of an Old World ideal which has been slowly dying. The Information Age is upon us, with all its blazing-fast sterility and a calloused dissemination of everything. Our once-capitalist land borders on the very ideological frontiers that it so valiantly fought 50 years ago. No matter what part of whose psyche has been sucked into this global maelstrom, humanity remains. My heart still beats. I still breathe air. I still want to love, to be loved, and to know that I'll have a family. I still like pretty girls. Rest assured, I'm still going to start a family.