Real Dreams Are Dead Dreams

When we are young, we are told to dream. We are told we can do whatever we want when we grow up. The thought itself made us want to grow up very, very quickly. We couldn't wait for the freedom to follow dreams we didn't really have. We'd spend hours dreaming and fantasizing about being a grown up. We'd have our own dog and we'd always have McDonald's Happy Meal for dinner. How could life get any better? We couldn't wait for time to speed ahead! Fast forward 10 years, we'd give anything to go back.

When I was 5, I wanted to be an artist. A painter, a sculpture, a drawer. I used to draw and color the whole day through. My art work wasn't the best of quality, but they did have a whole chunk of my 5 year old heart covering them. Oh, and how I loved it. How I loved creating dogs and humans that looked more like mice and dolls. How i loved painting fish and creating a farm that hadn't existed before I decided to take the initiative.

Then I grew up a bit, and I realized at 10 that artwork wasn't going to pay my bills. I couldn't paint away my bills. Being an artist wasn't a possibility. I could always paint and create for fun, but first I needed a job. When I grew up, I needed a real job. That was when the never ending war, the one that continues to this day, began. Should I be a lawyer or journalist?

Honestly, I'd like to be both. I'd feel satisfied and content in both fields. I'd feel passionate about making a difference. I'd be able to sleep soundly. However, I wouldn't be ecstatic going to work everyday. I wouldn't look forward to mondays, and I might even count down to retirement once in a while.

What do I still really want to be? An artist.

Even though with the lack of art skills I currently have, I am in no way more happier than when I'm creating something. That's why I like the prospect of journalism, it's the second best. I could still create something, I could string together words and tell the truth. I could make a difference and make things known. The words I used would become sentences and then paragraph, and in the very end, a story.

The sad thing is, I still can't paint away my bills and loans. Financially, I'd fail as an artist. But as a journo or a lawyer? I may still succeed.

And don't you know, success is important?

When I Grow Up, I Want To Be A Child

There will always be people who appreciate dried leaves and crooked smiles. The people who love starry nights and the clear blue sky more than the average. The folks who sing songs long forgotten by the rest. The girls who dance randomly and don't care if they're different. The ones who will eat as much as they want because they're hungry. The ones who run because they want to, and paint because their hearts desire so. The girls who leave their nail polish on until it becomes tiny specks on the clean nail. The same people who are more comfortable in hoodies and jeans. The ones that read too much, too fast. The ones who dream and think beyond the capacity of today's world.

It might seem as if the people who 'dig' new cars and plastic smiles are taking over. The ones who adore majestic mansions and everything new. The people who adore the smell of air conditioner and the sound of high, high heels. The ones that count calories before consuming. The ones who don't read for fun because they are 'waiting for the movie'. The ones who prefer perfect skin and long, flawless hair. The people whispering about the same old people and the same old drama. The ones that are silently becoming the people they used to hate. The folks who tried to impress society, but failed to drastically.  They didn't understand that society never lets anybody win. Ever.

Thought it seems that these plastic people are taking over, that is not the case.
The folks who adore the small things will always be there, hidden beneath the shadows. They don't need to talk too much or too loud. They don't need to wear too-short shorts and plaster their faces with face paint (also known as make-up, but what is it really?). They don't need to pretend to be dumb to make friends. They'll figure out who they are and who they want to be soon enough. People will go through stages where they become "plastic"; and long to be included in the pretty committee. That phase will end one day. We are who we always were, children.

Children do not judge or point fingers. Instead they ask questions and laugh. They smile when they want and hug because it's nice. The aren't afraid of the truth. They make friends quicker than instant noodles, and are kinder than time. They like what they like, and don't try to conform. That soon changes when you become ten, though. You suddenly HAVE to fit in. Wearing long, flowery dresses are out; you've got to buy something cooler. You spend hours begging your mother to buy you the new 'in' clothes. This goes on, and on, and on. However, it is all put an end soon enough. We'll all get a similar epiphany sooner or later. We're not who we really are, we are society. Somewhere in there, we're aiming to be who we once were; who we might never be again. Children. 

Growing Up: No Such Thing

I grew up squinting toward the thin line between the ocean and the sky. I grew up breathing salty, humid air. I grew up running aimlessly and pretending that things were as they weren't. I grew up with weekly trips to McDonalds and the library. I grew up stressing about homework, like no other 5th grader ever did. I grew up dreaming about success. I grew up wanting my family more than my friends.  I grew up to appreciate acquaintances and making awkward conversation. I grew up being told that I lived in a huge melting pot; everybody was the same but different. I grew up in a place where ethnicity and race did not matter, unless it included questions to increase one's general knowledge. I grew up in long car rides that weren't very long. I grew up listening to a broken radio that would change the stations itself. I grew up acting and dancing in home videos. I grew up in a place where winter did not exist and nobody owned more than one jacket. I grew up safe and slow, expecting out of the world what I expected out of myself. I grew up in many ways, but at least I grew up.

But did I really?

I still have flaws and scars that I would love to replace, but can't. I'm not the smartest or the strongest or the prettiest; and sometimes that gets to me. We're all made up of moments, people, places, and possibilities. We're constantly changing. We're constantly growing. Thus, I don't think there is a point we really grow up. We're always growing, whether we like it or not. Age is just a number, but sometimes that number matters. When people turn 21, they consider themselves adults. Yet, they act like ignorant children.

Therefore, I believe that we all feel as if we've grown up sometimes, but we never really do.