Lessons From…Ozymandias

If you’ve been keeping up with this blog (and why wouldn’t you, honestly), you’ve probably noticed a trend of discussing legacy, immortality, and achieving some sense of greatness/grandeur that surpasses one’s lifetime. It is still a thought and desire that haunts, but I wanted to examine another perspective this time around. What are the results of such a dogged pursuit of immortality and infamy? Amazingly, I think the best possible answer comes from the past classics of all places; the poem “Ozymandias” by Percy Bysshe Shelley.

  “I MET a Traveler from an antique land,
Who said, “Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desart. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed:
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is OZYMANDIAS, King of Kings.”
Look on my works ye Mighty, and despair!
No thing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that Colossal Wreck, boundless and bare,
The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

While the poem is pretty spectacular, there is something to be said for hearing it out loud by the right voice, so:

Although we foolish men try to create empires and totems and anything that will leave a mark on this Earth, everything we create will eventually crumble and turn to dust and ash and be retaken by the ground beneath us. Even though this knowledge should be deflating, I actually find it kind of inspiring. If everything we make is ultimately lost and forgotten by the ravages of time and nature, then the only thing that really matters is the act of creation.

After all, it is through the process that the transfer of knowledge, the evolution of art, and the growth of self actually occurs. And as much as my ego would love to be remembered long past my eventual demise, I also want to be worthy of that possibility, and that is not currently truth.

Besides, none of the past greats were trying to gain immortality; they were simply pursuing their art and passion. Acclaim was a happy accident. Maybe it will be one I am lucky to find as well. In the meantime, I will keep creating and pursuing perfection and be content in the process and where I finally land.

Thus endeth today’s lesson.

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On Critiques

I have written about this before, but seems like it bears repeating/reexamination. YOU CAN CRITIQUE THE SHIT YOU SEE/HEAR/READ WITHOUT HATING, CONDEMNING, OR SUGGESTING ITS INFERIORITY. IN FACT, AS A GROWN ASS ADULT, YOU SHOULD DO THIS WITH EVERYTHING!!!!!!!

Seriously, WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK is wrong with people?!? When did fandom and attachment to the media we consume become this huge defining fixture that must be guarded and defended at all costs? And this is coming from a media obsesses nerd who has hour long debates as to the best Batman representation…on multiple occasions. And I am aware that even so, someone disagreeing with my opinion or saying something, legitimately negative or critical, about  my preferred media is not that big a deal or issue, especially if their criticism is valid.

Why is that so difficult to understand and accept?! Critiques of stuff you like have no bearing on you as a person/individual. Hell, your reaction to someone criticizing your preferred media says far more about you than the critique itself.

Look enjoy what you watch/hear/read and if someone criticizes it, either ignore it or come up with a better rebuttal. Otherwise, shut up and just keep enjoying your shit. It’s not that hard. Later dayz.