I had a dream, almost a year ago now, that I would blog. Not every day, perhaps not even every week, but regularly.
I started this blog in the January of this year (2013) and this is my 4th post. I do also have another blog: nixitup.wordpress.com but, again, there are only a few posts on there. Does this mean that I have failed with this dream?
At Primary school I was asked what I wanted to be. I said an astronaut and a nurse and maybe both. I knew I couldn’t be a nurse because I don’t like needles at all and could never give someone an injection. And I kind of knew I would never be an astronaut. But I loved the idea of it, and the fact that I could simply dream it and never worry about being it.
At Secondary school, things got more serious. So, when they asked what I wanted to be, I had to give a serious response. Luckily, by this point I had a pretty decent idea. I wanted to be a teacher. I didn’t really know why, but I knew that I wanted it. My Grandmother had been a teacher at a small village school – the young’uns, aged 5 and 6. I didn’t want that. So, I pursued a career as an English and Drama teacher, just like my favourite teacher at school.
I’ll skip past the bit where I tell you what happened next and get to the point where I tell you that I achieved that dream. I am a teacher: English first, Drama somewhat incorporated.
And it is at this point where I ask another question. Does a dream, once made a reality, ever live up?
Don’t get me wrong, I love my job. I love what I do: planning everything from how to use a comma to what does Priestley want the audience to contemplate at the end of the play?; being in the classroom and soaking up the joy at watching minds expand and lives change forever; marking folders and books and papers which could either send me into a violent rage as I realise they just didn’t get it or hysterics when they take one of my sarcastic comments too seriously. I love that every day is different. I love that each day I converse with over 100 people, all of whom are so individual.
Yet, in comparison, my dream still feels so small. In comparison to who? Well, a dear friend whose dreams have taken him very far away from me. His parents took him away first; moved him 100s of miles away to start a new life. I figured we’d always end up at the same university or something. Except I wanted to study English and then do my teacher training. And he wanted to do Art/Illustration and various other things like that. I wanted academia and he wanted the world.
I got academia. And he got the world.
His job involves creating props for film productions – large and small. He’s worked with some of the largest name in the film business. His name has literally been on the big screen.
I forgot what my point was halfway through this. I’ve deleted several paragraphs.
My dream, in comparison, was small. But it was big enough for me. Perhaps, my dear friend, had bigger dreams because he’s a bigger person. He certainly always had a bigger personality. And, although our dreams took us in different directions, and I speak to him about twice a year and I haven’t seen him off-screen for almost a decade, I know that he is still my dear friend. His dream has taken him to where he needs to be. And mine has me where I need to be.
And now that I have achieved that biggest of my dreams, I have other dreams. Smaller dreams yet. To blog more often. To meet even more people. To experience more of the world. Just more of it – not all of it. Small. But big enough.
I think it’s time for bed. I’m waffling.