We spend all our lives aspiring to be something or like someone. There cannot be a point in time when you are without an ambition, a dream. Even when you think you are, you want to be someone… A good son, a good father, a criminal. Ambitions aren’t necessarily good. People may even dream of robbing a bank. You aim for something, make resolutions, pen them down in big, bold letters and pin them to your wall. Yet, years later you find yourself having let go of those dreams. They remain pinned to your wall, pointlessly. You may feel remorse.
How often do you look back and say proudly that, “I wanted to be an astronaut!” or, “I wanted to be Stuart Little!” or that when you flipped your pillow cover over your head and placed a cheap, blue basket over it, all you dreamed of was being a princess. Your aspirations don’t always have to make sense, until you are too old for them to be unavailing.
I have wanted to write since I was 7. But there was always something stopping me. I never felt the need to show people that I can, until I was told that I am not too awful at it and that I should let people see. In my defense, I never believed them. Even then, I always looked for excuses, inexplicably, every time someone pointed me towards a window of opportunity.
I cannot find the inspiration. That was one of the excuses I used most frequently. It took me a while to realize that maybe I really needed that kick in the shin, for someone to order me to get off my butt and get to work. The sad part is, I am still looking. Sigh.