Here sit I, in a chair, before a computer with whirling fans and tiny sparks that carry data from circuit to circuit in an ever expanding chain. The light on my desk is easy to turn on and off and I have no need of hard work to see in the darkness of night. I live in an age of idleness and easy answers, where the push of a button brings us images for our entertainments, food for our consumption and with a few brief actions we can move around the country. I live in a land that is soft and easy, one where I need only expend a minimal amount of energy in order to care for myself; but my heart is not here.

I am too much of a dreamer to love the simple life that I live. I long for ancient days of fell deeds and valiant action, days when brave knights fought for the hands of fair maidens. I am willing to confess to a certain strain of romanticism that hearkens for a time of beauty and courage and honor, a time I know never existed. The stories that have fallen through the cracks of time to carry with them the promise of such ancient yesterdays illuminate my mind like the flames of Mt. Vesuvius. I am drawn into a narrative that shines light onto my existence and that demands from me a specific life, one where failure is no option and death must be sought before a loss of honor.

The tales of this past world, this other land, so foreign from our own, have shaped much of my view of the world. I find myself dreaming of being a knight in shining armour, riding a swift white stallion into the heart of danger and darkness to rescue a fair maiden, a beautiful princess who stands in fear of her life. I know, from some of my female friends, that they continue to dream that one day their knight will appear, drawing them into a beautiful world of justice and peace. I know these dreams for they are the inverse of my own...yet I know a danger in them too.

Some day, if the Lord wills it, I will get married, and it may be that some beautiful woman will stand at the front of a church and picture armour covering my tuxedo. It may be that I will look on her as a fair maiden, beautiful and graceful, and fully holding of all the virtues to be found in womankind. But then, imagine her horror when, a few short months later, she discovers that far from marrying a knight in shining armour, she has tied herself to a foolish boy, dressed in aluminum foil and riding a stick horse, for such she will surely find. And regardless of how wildly I wave my wooden sword in the air, or how firmly my shrill voice pipes defiance at the evils of the world, I know that I am unlikely to ever kill a dragon. And imagine my anger when I discover that far from a perfect and gentle maiden, I have married an independent and willful woman, who has needs and desires of her own. How will my unrealistic view of marriage affect me in days to come, how will it tear apart my soul should I not bring it under my control? How will the myths of the past affect my future?