Ambition

It's incredible. Here I have kept a journal, of my thoughts and activities for quite a prolonged period of time, and I've never got down to expressing my great dream, my desire and drive, my grand plan for life.
It's because it's ridiculous, of course, and most of my closer friends already know about it. But it is a dream, and I've thought it out really well, have expressed verbally several times, but never ever put to keyboard and screen(I like that phrase, it's going to replace pen and paper shortly).

Without further adieu, I present my life's goal, the one thing that drives me foward.

I plan to build a Pyramid. A big one.
No, I don't want a fancy schmancy glass one, in the designs of one I.M Pei, and I don't want one of those nasty jazzy jobs, like the one's in Las Vegas. As I have pointed out several times before, I am an old fashioned chap, and a megalomaniac to boot, and I want my pyramid done the way they used to be. Very Large. Full of Stone. Very Very Large.
Now, you may think all these things are just castles in the sky, but I do have a plan.
First, the construction plan. I shall buy land in Sonepat, for it is cheap, and yet not too far from Delhi, so I can oversee the construction process once I retire. Pyramids take remarkably long to make, especially if you're going to make them the old fashioned way. I shall need twenty years building time, and it shall be a large structure, covering hopefully four acres of land, with two acres on all sides, as holding space. It shall be made of pure limestone blocks, each weighing upwards of ten tonnes. These blocks will be moved into place, by, you guessed it, Slave Labour.

See, if you're going to construct a pyramid, it must be done with slave labour. It lends that touch of authenticity to the whole deal. There's no point building a whole bigass pyramid if you're going to do it with hired contractors, with their big fancy bulldozers and earth movers, and cranes. You've got to do it the old fashioned way, with slave teams hauling huge stones on wooden rollers. The straw must run out. A moses equivalent must cry "Let my People Go", and I must then sqaush him like the slave bug he is. The Mortar must be made from the bones of those who died building it, so to speak. It gives the whole place a sense of glamour and style, a sense of belonging, a sense of connection with the construction team.

Now, the funding plan. See, funding is key, because building a structure for twenty years takes money, and so does the war you have to fight to get the slave labour, because it isn't as freely availible these days as it used to be. Here's the tough bit, basically. I must somehow win the lotto, big time. Either that, or I get married to a girl with a lot of jaayadad, then divorce her, and move on to the next target. Okay, I apologise for borrowing this plan from someone else.
My other plan is a lot tougher. Basically, I must first have seven sons. The seventh of these seven must in turn have seven sons. The seventh son of the seventh son will hopefully have magical powers, which I shall use to conquer France. This solves two problems, I can sell all the wine to fund the pyramid, and use em Frenchies as my slave labour. Feel the lash of whip, Gerard Depardue!

Once all the hurly burly is done, I'll be around 70, and ready to kick the bucket. Upon dying, I shall be embalmed, mummified, and put in a Sarcophagus, which shall then be put in my Pyramid.
Because if you're going out, you should do it in style.