Dreams are wonderful stuff, aren't they? Gloriously full of hope and optimism and just general warm, happy feelings. I don't mean dreams as in those that occur while you sleep.. But goals in life, love and everything else.
I have lots and lots and lots of dreams. I know some of them can never be achieved - ie. I don't think I'll ever learn enough stealth to allow me to be a ninja. Okay fine, that one is a ridonkullus one, but I like to let my thoughts run rampant in my head. It keeps my life interesting to say the least.
Anyways.. Yes. Dreams.
They do suck a bit though, don't they?
Dreams make you realize that you
don't have all the time in the world, and that maybe you wont be able to achieve everything you've ever wanted because those far fetched, high hopes you have for yourself is exactly that - a little far fetched. And you start to wonder if you'll ever be happy if you're forced to deviate from your plans of grandeur and settle for a job you know wont leave you satisfied - but will at least bring in the dosh so you live another day while your soul slowly shrivels up and die. That's a bleak outlook though, ain't it?
Miss Mita, my fabulously awesome bestieboo
(who you should totally check out, because I love her to bits and she has mad writing sk1llz) wrote a post about dreams once, located *
here*.. About finding balance and such.. She said that:
Dreams are goals, and they should be big, but they shouldn't take over your life. They shouldn't get to your head and change you when you get your first taste of its success. They should be your engine, your trophy. Not your drug of choice.
Balance is hard, huh?
The future is so uncertain right now that I'm feeling a little bit.. strange.
When I was 11, I had my life planned out in a fabulous dream sequence involving sunburn.. or dust. I was going to take a history major and be a historian slash archeologist - and no, I don't think I ever saw Indiana Jones at this point. I would work at the museum and document.. things. I had a vague idea that there would be documents to deal with at museums and I thought wearing gloves while holding them would be nothing short of amazing.
When I was 15, I changed my mind. I was either going to major in Biology and teach. I dreamt about getting into English Lit. and wow the world with my amazing literary skills. There was also that one time I thought getting into Design would be cool, before my skills at actually designing anything was revealed to be craptastic.
Point is, I always had elaborate dreams of my future, and I had the confidence I would carry them all out
.
Right now I'm just keeping my fingers crossed I can graduate this year, which as far as plans go - isn't actually all that ambitious.
Whine. Whine. Whine.
No, I'm not actually whinning as much as voicing my fears. I know I'm not the first, and that I shant be the last.. And I know millions are probably going through the same things.
I used to think that people who were unsure and uncertain were wimps. That the world was too full of possibilities to hesitate, and that diving in to immerse yourself in
life would be easy. Man, I was such a cocky little sha*te. I would have decked myself given the chance to meet my 9 year old self.
When did my dreams become plans? And when did those plans start looking so much harder to carry out?
I can't wait for the day I look back on this blog entry and scoff. And laugh. And grin knowingly. And say: "
Kid, you ain't got nothing to worry about."
And maybe that's enough of a dream to keep me going for now. That one day, everything will be
fine. Maybe the key to balance is to keep your 'dreams' as general as possible.
(But I'm still stubbornly holding out for a Japanese man dressed in tattered black rags and a straw cone-shapped hat, to come my way and whisper in a thick accent: "You be good ninja. I teach. Yes? I see you good ninja aura")
