Thursday, January 31, 2013


When I was 3, I wanted to be a  cheerleader. I don't know where I got the idea from. Probably from watching cheer competitions on ESPN, or seeing them on tv during college basketball games. 

When I was 8, I wanted to be Mariah Carey. I would sing all the time, during car rides, on the walk home, while I was doing homework. And it was always be when I thought no one was listening. The moment I realized someone was listening, I was immediately embarrassed and would turn away or try to thwart their attention towards something else. 

When I was in high school, my honors English teacher gave us an assignment to list out our top 20 or so goals in life and to map out our life somehow. I wanted to graduate college, be a writer, learn how to knit socks, all by the time I was 30. 

When I was in college, I thought business school was the way to go so I took all these classes, but I was delusional, my true passion was in the Arts. So I become an English major and thought about how amazing it would be to be a writer or be a college professor that talked about books.

And I graduated college and thought, okay - maybe I'll work this job a few years, then go back to school, get my doctorate in English Victorian Literature, or become a high school teacher. 

6 years later, I'm still working that job, and occasionally I think about how if I could just think of that one good idea, one good piece of work, I can get out of this job that I love so much and just live my dream. But, as life would have it, my writing dreams have taken a back seat. What happened? Perhaps it was my lack of drive, I don't know, but I always feel like you can't force yourself to write, the elements have to just align for ideas to come. In college, my mother would always nag me when I was writing college essays, does it seriously take you that long to write your essay? and I would annoyingly respond greatness does not happen over night!  I feel like I proved her wrong with my 4.0s in every essay I wrote. But then again, maybe it takes less time for someone to write 4.0 essays, and I am just slow so maybe it really isn't that great.

Regardless, there's this feeling of unfulfillment, like I know I can do this... I just have to take time out to make happen so that I can do it. But it feels like everything else in life finds it's way to make precedence, and \time and time again, my dreams takes the back seat. 

When will it be time? Is now the time? 

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