There’s no debating that. Some dreams are vastly different from others. Some dream of college. Some dream of escaping their current life. Some dream to be doctors and professional baseball players and more. Many times, these dreams are a direct influence of a parent or teacher.
Growing up, I always decided I wanted to be what people would tell me. Seriously – after being assigned a tailor position as a first grader, I wanted to be a tailor for like a year. My mom was pretty worried about that one. But truth of the matter is, I get massive anxiety trying to thread a needle. So I moved on to… being a teacher. Duh.
The first time I remember dreaming about wanting to do something without my mom or teacher telling me what to do was at Camp Marston. It was encouraged, yes, and the camp counselors explained how we could come back when we were older and be a Leader in Training. We were on a hike and I remember thinking, “I want to come back the first year I can and do this.”
But times changed and I didn’t want to even attempt it; who could give up an entire summer with friends for that? So it was pretty sweet when I was texting my friend Corey about not getting any hours at the day camp I worked at this summer and he told me they were short-staffed up at Marston. With a few phone calls, I was on my way to Julian for the week. And it was an awesome week at that. The cabin I stayed in looked identical (I’m not sure if it was the same one, it could have been) to the one I stayed in as a camper in 2003. Now here I was in 2013, telling the girls they only get a two-minute shower time as I set three-minute timers on my phone. I decided to use that week of camp for my picture for this blog. One as a camper with my best friend, and one as a camp counselor with one of my best friends.
Now that I’m in my senior year of a university, this idea of dreaming haunts me. Dreaming is supposed to be fun at first, then difficult when put to work, but fairly fulfilling at the end of it. My issue is that my dreams and my major don’t line up. My issue is that I’m not even sure what my dreams are because I have no plans. My issue is I’m scared.
It’s not a secret; I’m a writer. Or at least, I like writing. Inspiration strikes me and I’m throwing myself at a computer. Some people say that people who say they like to write like the idea of book signings and speaking events with lots of fans. I like to imagine myself sitting somewhere writing. I like to imagine myself getting lost in the woods for inspiration with only a notebook and pen. I like to imagine the process of writing, the flow charts and outlines and awful first drafts.
Here I am in school, studying accounting. It isn’t that I hate accounting… but I don’t dream of it. I don’t go home and look up examples on how to merge companies. I don’t read my textbook unless I know I’ll fail the exam if I don’t. There’s no passion. The theory of accounting doesn’t make me come alive.
That isn’t to say I won’t do accounting. I think this major in practice is entirely different from this major in theory and study. It’s worth a shot. It’s something to learn. Maybe it will lead me towards something else I can get excited about.
Yet still, my dreams of writing keep me up at night. But dreams don’t pay the massive school loans.
Everyone keeps saying that I can write on the side, which is exactly what is going to happen. I could not imagine a life in which I do not write. But I keep hoping that isn’t the end. That somewhere along the line, my passion can meet up with paying the bills.
It’ll be one step at a time. I have no idea what is coming next.
But I know a lot of people are at this same place as me. I’m not alone.
So tell me, what did you dream as a kid? What do you dream of now? Do your dreams line up with paying the bills? Leave me a comment, I wanna know. :)