Little kids are always told to follow their dreams. That they can do anything if they set their minds to it. That's what I was told. I'm sure that's what you were told. But it isn't that easy, is it? The truth is that reality gets in the way of our dreams. Sure some people get there. But not everybody can be those people. So what's the difference?
I think the difference is more than the presence of roadblocks. Sure some run into more than others, and some larger than others. But the real difference is between those who come to accept the dead ends and those who build new roads.
I officially sound like a self-help guide.
But really... I just finished telling a friend that he can still do what he wants to do--even if he's off track, even if it will take awhile, even if it feels like he can't. Then I realized that I'm a total hypocrite.
In high school, when I was trying to determine what to do with the rest of my life (a.k.a. my college major), I had multiple ideas. One in particular was Fashion Design. I love fashion, and I've been sketching designs for years. I can't sew, but (if I do say so myself) the designs I had were damn decent. And I've been improving. But as was pointed out to me, fashion is tough. It's hit or miss, and if I were to miss, I'd have nothing to fall back on except for rough drawings.
And so I chose English. Creative Writing to be specific. Don't get me wrong. I love Creative Writing: I love grammar, and reading, and editing. And surely I will find a decent career in the field. But is it safe? Is that why I chose it? I have always been a bookworm. I have always been a good writer. I have always been detail-oriented and able to spot errors. I'm not risking anything.
It will be difficult for me to fail. It might still be difficult for me to excel, but even if I don't excel, I certainly won't fail. At least not completely. So what's the point? What's the point in attempting what I already know I can do? There's no question. It's a guarantee. I can't lose. It's like a fixed game. How could I celebrate the win? How will I ever be satisified with my "accomplishments?" Is that what they are? Or are they just easy goals?
I don't know anymore. Somewhere along the line I stopped dreaming, and I'm not sure I can write my way out of this one.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The Start of "Something Real"
Today is Thursday. And let me tell you, this week has been crazy. It started out horribly, but gradually became wonderful. Those close to me know that over the weekend, on June 19, my grandma (my dad's mom) passed away. The timing was startling for all of us, and the news sparked many thoughts for me. I was never real close to my grandparents on this side of the family. That is truly something that I regret. And although I can't fix that with grandma here, I hope I can become closer to my grandpa. And she will see that from somewhere. I think funerals have a funny way of doing that--bringing people closer together. I'm not the first to say that; but since this is my first time going through this, I think I'm allowed one cliche revelation.
Or maybe more than one. Life really isn't all that bad. People joke sometimes about me whining--or maybe it's just my dad--but let me tell you that on Saturday before I knew about Grandma, I cried. I was on the phone with my mom in the car, crying about--get this--not being skinny. And then I found out that Grandma was gone, and I felt like I had no right to be upset about the random issues that upset me daily. I have no right to cry about not being skinny. I have no right to cry about spilling a bucket at work. Or my co-employee sucking up to the manager and treating me like s***. Or being rejected. Or worried about nothing. Grandpa. Now he has something to cry about. The incredible woman that he loved for 42 years just passed. My dad, my two uncles just lost their mother. And she was a loving grandmother to me and 11 other grandchildren. Now that gives me a real reason to cry.
My best friend Robin and I have, unfortunately, been growing apart. It might have to do with the fact that we aren't living close to each other this summer, but for whatever reason, it has been happening. Even still, I don't know what I would have done without her this weekend. She was the first person I called after finding out, and the day after we planned an afternoon of shopping and lunch. I was standing on the sidewalk with my purse and a box of Kleenex when she picked me up. And she didn't have a clue what to say when she saw me. Not a damn clue. So she left her car door wide open, leaking Beatles music, and just hugged me. Hugged me tight. The first words out of her mouth were "You smell good." In response I told her, "Your music sucks." And that was all that needed to be said.
That day with Robin I bought new shoes. Royal blue heels. Love 'em. And I wore those shoes a couple of days later on a date with this wonderful guy who is becoming very special to me. The evening was absolutely perfect. I wouldn't have changed a single thing. Even the timing. I felt extra close to him that night, and feel extra close to him now. Having gone through such a difficult time a couple years ago, he has been assuring me since Saturday night that I can talk to him whenever I need to. And just knowing that was exactly what I needed.
Within the past couple of days, I have seen the strongest members of family cry. I've seen the smallest ones cry. And those somewhere inbetween. It tied all of us together. It didn't matter who was mad at whom for this. Or who was irritated at whom for that. Or who... It didn't matter. We all shared a sadness, a joy, a comfort, a Kleenex. And I have never felt closer to that side of my family.
The drive home today was really when I got to see the past week for what it has been. And while driving, I was trying to figure out what to call it. That was when I realized it was just life. It was reality. Life is never perfect. And it's never impossible. It isn't false hope to feel that something good always comes out of something bad. It always does. And it doesn't have to be something unbelievable or something unlikely. It doesn't have to be something huge and powerful. It can be something small, as long as it means something to you. All it has to be is something real.
Or maybe more than one. Life really isn't all that bad. People joke sometimes about me whining--or maybe it's just my dad--but let me tell you that on Saturday before I knew about Grandma, I cried. I was on the phone with my mom in the car, crying about--get this--not being skinny. And then I found out that Grandma was gone, and I felt like I had no right to be upset about the random issues that upset me daily. I have no right to cry about not being skinny. I have no right to cry about spilling a bucket at work. Or my co-employee sucking up to the manager and treating me like s***. Or being rejected. Or worried about nothing. Grandpa. Now he has something to cry about. The incredible woman that he loved for 42 years just passed. My dad, my two uncles just lost their mother. And she was a loving grandmother to me and 11 other grandchildren. Now that gives me a real reason to cry.
My best friend Robin and I have, unfortunately, been growing apart. It might have to do with the fact that we aren't living close to each other this summer, but for whatever reason, it has been happening. Even still, I don't know what I would have done without her this weekend. She was the first person I called after finding out, and the day after we planned an afternoon of shopping and lunch. I was standing on the sidewalk with my purse and a box of Kleenex when she picked me up. And she didn't have a clue what to say when she saw me. Not a damn clue. So she left her car door wide open, leaking Beatles music, and just hugged me. Hugged me tight. The first words out of her mouth were "You smell good." In response I told her, "Your music sucks." And that was all that needed to be said.
That day with Robin I bought new shoes. Royal blue heels. Love 'em. And I wore those shoes a couple of days later on a date with this wonderful guy who is becoming very special to me. The evening was absolutely perfect. I wouldn't have changed a single thing. Even the timing. I felt extra close to him that night, and feel extra close to him now. Having gone through such a difficult time a couple years ago, he has been assuring me since Saturday night that I can talk to him whenever I need to. And just knowing that was exactly what I needed.
Within the past couple of days, I have seen the strongest members of family cry. I've seen the smallest ones cry. And those somewhere inbetween. It tied all of us together. It didn't matter who was mad at whom for this. Or who was irritated at whom for that. Or who... It didn't matter. We all shared a sadness, a joy, a comfort, a Kleenex. And I have never felt closer to that side of my family.
The drive home today was really when I got to see the past week for what it has been. And while driving, I was trying to figure out what to call it. That was when I realized it was just life. It was reality. Life is never perfect. And it's never impossible. It isn't false hope to feel that something good always comes out of something bad. It always does. And it doesn't have to be something unbelievable or something unlikely. It doesn't have to be something huge and powerful. It can be something small, as long as it means something to you. All it has to be is something real.
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