Now, this may seem completely irrelevant to anything and everything I’ve talked about in the past, along every other thing I’ve ever posted, but I really feel that this is something many people can relate to.
You’ve all had dreams about what you’ve wanted to be as a young child, no matter how clique or bizarre or “imaginative” it may be. A stereotypical example may be a boy wishing to be astronaut or a young girl wanting to be a ballerina. But, honestly, there is very small amount of people in the world who are willing to work for their dream and, eventually, accomplish it.
It’s completely normal for a parent to brush these thoughts off as a phase. In a parent’s eyes, they’re just children who are going go grow and outgrow thoughts. This is just a cute and imaginative thought that will soon enough be outgrown. But, in the believer’s eyes, they can see that astronaut taking that small step for man on the moon already. They can picture that ballerina twirling to her heart’s content on her stage.
Coming from a child, I’m embarrassed for those “dreams” I had. Those “dreams” of singing and dancing on a stage. I can even remember that, at one point, I wanted to be a fast food worker. But they were childish. I can admit to being naive and not realizing that I couldn’t make a living out of these things. Then again, can you blame me?
I was six. I’ve only just turned twelve.
Now, there’s so much confusion. In four years, I’ll be back to square one. High school teachers will ask me what I’m going to do with my life. What I want to do. Who I want to be. And you know what? I have an answer already.
I’ll point to the woman modeling the latest suit in the magazine. She’ll be in front of the tallest building in the world, where only the smartest, most intelligent, and most talented people work. And you know why? I want to be known as smart, intelligent, and talented. I want people to see my name and know who the heck Lindsay Tidmarsh is. To see me walking down the street and whisper to their friend, “Look. It’s Lindsay Tidmarsh!”
Don’t ask me where or how, because I don’t know. One day I’ll have an answer, but for now, let it remain a mystery. Leave it be. Just let me dream. Let me dream of my importance in the world. Let me dream of my name being called but meaning so much more when said. Let me dream of them seeing me. The real me. Not a person who you bump into while walking to the school bus. Not a person you’ve seen around school but you know you’ll never talk to. Not a stranger. Just me.
I want to be the big time journalist who is known as a passionate and hard worker. I want have my own office. Carry a briefcase. Work in the biggest building in the world. Wear a suit.
Then again, I’m just a kid, right? I’ll outgrow this. Next thing you’ll know, I’ll be strumming a guitar and saying I want to be a country singer. Well guess what? No.
I’m important. I’m strong. I’m smart. I have enough brains to know that I have to work in order to pull this off, but guess what? I don’t care. I will work to the bone for my dream. I can do this. The next time you see me, I’ll be working my wrists on piles of papers, writing like a maniac, all the while smiling and dreaming of that building and of that suit.
To the non-believers, picture this. You, age four, pretending to be performing a career that you want to do in your life. Perform your dream. You go to your parents, aunts uncles, or grandparents, and show them. Would you rather have them encourage you, believe in you, or just nod, smile and say, “That’s nice, dear.” No, I’m sure you wouldn’t. You would want your parents to see you as you see yourself. You would want your parents to see a confident, strong, smart, and independent young child, on the verge of growing up.
I’m only twelve, but in my heart, I know I’m not playing dress-up or pretend. This is real. I’ve got the guts. I’ve got the brains. And most importantly, the heart.
Lindsay Says 