What if Your Dream is Stupid?

I was lucky enough to have Stephen Colbert, a Northwestern alum, as the commencement speaker at my graduation. He did a great job of making it very Northwestern focused for the graduates while having a solid, concise greater message at the end and, of course, cracking everyone up.

Here's the speech, if you want to watch it:

Part of his "message" portion of his speech included this line:

"You have been told to follow your dreams. But, what if it's a stupid dream?"


He went on to say, "Whatever your dream is now, if you don't achieve it, that does not mean you've failed."

In my room in high school, I had a framed puzzle I'd put together of Times Square. It was a cool picture, sure. But I hung it there as a symbol of my dream to live in New York City someday. I'd loved my visits there, and I loved the picture of myself I'd imagined time and again of what my life there would be. At that point, I'd only ever lived in one house in Dallas, TX. New York was far, far away from everything I'd ever known.

The first step, in my mind, was attending college there. So my parents and I went on a college visit, where I discovered I didn't quite like the idea of NYU not having that stereotypical college campus feel, and Columbia, while having a campus, didn't actually have my major for undergrads (thanks, internet, for not telling me that before I flew there).

Eventually I decided I didn't even want to major in journalism, so Columbia was once again an option. But I had to expand my search, so I thought, how about another large city? And I began to research all of the colleges in Chicago. I discovered Northwestern and the fact that they had a creative writing program. I applied early decision and, well, the rest is history.

But this story isn't really about my college decision. It's about how, the longer I was at Northwestern, the more I knew what I'd always suspected -- I needed Texas. I missed all my family that was there, the random karaoke parties they held that I couldn't attend because I was 900 miles away. I missed people saying y'all and the ridiculously hot summers and the Dallas highways that made everything so accessible, plus countless other tiny things that make it what I love.

I had my experience of a big, lively downtown by being so close to Chicago, and rather quickly I knew that was enough for me. I still had this idyllic vision of what life in New York City would be, but I also knew that, ultimately, it wasn't what I wanted.

So that dream that I'd had for years, that several people knew about -- I just let it go. It wasn't a stupid dream, but, as Colbert said, "Dreams change, and that's okay."

I'm getting settled in my new apartment now. My real world, grown up, have a full-time job, apartment... in Dallas. And I'm incredibly happy, and satisfied, and don't feel like I've failed at all. The other day my mom came over to help me decorate. We've moved since I graduated high school,  and that puzzle of NYC wasn't hanging in my room in the new house. I had her search my closet and several boxes until she found it, then I had her bring it with her. And now, once more, it's hanging in my bedroom.

It's my tribute to Stephen Colbert. To dreams. A reminder that my dream has changed once before, and I'm glad I didn't pursue it just so not attaining it wouldn't make me feel like a failure. A reminder that in high school I wasn't afraid to dream big, so I shouldn't be afraid to dream big now, either. And hey, it's still a pretty picture.

Anyone have any dreams that changed for the better? Any pearls of wisdom from your commencement speakers? I'd love to hear it!

Plans Aren't Mutually Exclusive

Despite the fact that my cognitive psychology class is currently making me question every memory I think I have, there is one conversation with an aunt of mine I remember very clearly. We were discussing what I wanted to be when I grew up, and when I said an author, she said, "But what if you don't become an author?"

I was probably 12 or so at the time, so I was old enough to know that becoming an author was by no means a laid out career plan, but still young enough that I was idealistic. I didn't want to be asked such a realistic follow-up question. Later that day, I wrote about it in one of my many spirals. But I didn't write about the conversation. I wrote, "How am I ever supposed to achieve my dreams if I'm planning for when I fail?"

It wasn't my aunt's intention to crush my dreams or anything. She was just being practical. And though my reaction was that of an idealistic kid, I think it has some practicality to it, too. To someday achieve a dream, you have to believe in it enough to make it Plan A. That doesn't mean it's become an author or be homeless. It's not either or.

Never has this whole conundrum been more apparent to me than now, as my college graduation nears. I think I'm more excited than most of my peers (I hate that word, but it's the best description) for graduating, but I'm not set with a job and a plan and a career all laid out like some of them are. And it's okay. Because at some point when I decided to major in Creative Writing instead of something more practical, I knew this day would come.

And being an author is still my dream. Still Plan A. But what I'm realizing is that pursuing Plan B isn't about giving up, or about failure. It's about practicality. It's about acknowledging that the only way to pursue Plan A is to first find another way to provide for myself. It is not either or. It's Plan B and keeping at Plan A, just at the same time. I haven't failed yet. The only point at which I'll have failed is the moment I stop trying.