Sorry It's Been Forever...
Sorry it's been forever but for the past few weeks or so I've been getting very deep into the Ayn and's book
Fountianhead. I admit that it was boring me to tears until I came into chapter 2 of Part 2 (or page 216 to be more exact). Then the book became increasingly interesting after that. I'm still in the middle somewhere but I can not imagine what else could happen. My feeble litle mind cannot perdict what whirlwind of psychology I will be swept into in the next pages coming...
But last night I had an apiphany about the red-haired architect Howard Raork; the unfearing man who laughs in the face of those who can control his wealth and his perception to others. But he remains rock solid (as his physique) in his assurance of himself and his art. Then I wonder to myself: What is it to be this man, this character of a man? To know nothing of fear, to remain calm and strong in the face of authority. Perhaps women have been conditioned to be the second, always. To be the one behind the man; to be the soft one, the quiet one, the delicate one. And I do not want to be delicate anymore. I see men walking down these streets of New York, straight backed, tall, head high and with a confident stride. I want that. They look as if they had control over evey aspect of their being. Though when the wealth is taken away from these men, I wonder how strong they will actually be. I want to know what it is to be a man in a woman's body. Not a woman denying her sexuality, but a woman without the fear and meekness of a woman. I know all women are not this way, and perhaps this is a way to actually see what's inside myself. But I want to be strong. I want to not have to care and not be afraid of men. It's more than a want, it's a need. I NEED THIS. I need to know that what I do is absolute and not second guessed. I have an occupation of the arts to give to the world. I can not be afraid that what I give is not correct. I want the assurance of Howard Roark. I want his hard body to be my soul. I want to be firm and confident and direct, you know? Unfaultering.
But how do I do this? Roark's character ws 22 when he left (or was expelled) from his school, studying architecture. He was dismissed because eh refuse to reproduce what he did not believe. He had an understanding of his work that no one could grasp. He was alone in his beliefs and everyone bashed him for it. And they were afraid of him. Afraid of what they could not understand. I want to have that comprehension. I need no one to be able to touch what I know because I will know only that which is my concept. And I will know theirs, and I will not be suprised when someone comes out of some other angle to break me. That's what I need. I am 22 now, I will say that I was one step ahead of Roark by leaving my university at 21, leaving behind 3 years of malice. Though I can not say al of that time was wasted. And I am here now in new york, learning a new trade, trying to cover all bases in my field. Roark didnt go back to school to waste more money. He dove right into his profession, with no fear. I suppose I'm afrad of not being abe to eat, or take a shower, or wonder where I'll sleep. But I cant anymore. I have to fight this thing. This beast called fear. I have to overcome and devour it, so that I can know the powers of the beast and defile it. Pick it apart. Expose it. Laugh at it and drink out of it's skull. I have to become the beast.
Fountianhead. I admit that it was boring me to tears until I came into chapter 2 of Part 2 (or page 216 to be more exact). Then the book became increasingly interesting after that. I'm still in the middle somewhere but I can not imagine what else could happen. My feeble litle mind cannot perdict what whirlwind of psychology I will be swept into in the next pages coming...
But last night I had an apiphany about the red-haired architect Howard Raork; the unfearing man who laughs in the face of those who can control his wealth and his perception to others. But he remains rock solid (as his physique) in his assurance of himself and his art. Then I wonder to myself: What is it to be this man, this character of a man? To know nothing of fear, to remain calm and strong in the face of authority. Perhaps women have been conditioned to be the second, always. To be the one behind the man; to be the soft one, the quiet one, the delicate one. And I do not want to be delicate anymore. I see men walking down these streets of New York, straight backed, tall, head high and with a confident stride. I want that. They look as if they had control over evey aspect of their being. Though when the wealth is taken away from these men, I wonder how strong they will actually be. I want to know what it is to be a man in a woman's body. Not a woman denying her sexuality, but a woman without the fear and meekness of a woman. I know all women are not this way, and perhaps this is a way to actually see what's inside myself. But I want to be strong. I want to not have to care and not be afraid of men. It's more than a want, it's a need. I NEED THIS. I need to know that what I do is absolute and not second guessed. I have an occupation of the arts to give to the world. I can not be afraid that what I give is not correct. I want the assurance of Howard Roark. I want his hard body to be my soul. I want to be firm and confident and direct, you know? Unfaultering.
But how do I do this? Roark's character ws 22 when he left (or was expelled) from his school, studying architecture. He was dismissed because eh refuse to reproduce what he did not believe. He had an understanding of his work that no one could grasp. He was alone in his beliefs and everyone bashed him for it. And they were afraid of him. Afraid of what they could not understand. I want to have that comprehension. I need no one to be able to touch what I know because I will know only that which is my concept. And I will know theirs, and I will not be suprised when someone comes out of some other angle to break me. That's what I need. I am 22 now, I will say that I was one step ahead of Roark by leaving my university at 21, leaving behind 3 years of malice. Though I can not say al of that time was wasted. And I am here now in new york, learning a new trade, trying to cover all bases in my field. Roark didnt go back to school to waste more money. He dove right into his profession, with no fear. I suppose I'm afrad of not being abe to eat, or take a shower, or wonder where I'll sleep. But I cant anymore. I have to fight this thing. This beast called fear. I have to overcome and devour it, so that I can know the powers of the beast and defile it. Pick it apart. Expose it. Laugh at it and drink out of it's skull. I have to become the beast.
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