When I was little, it was my life's ambition to become an Indian (yeah yeah, politically correct Native American). Not in the modern sense of the word; I wanted to be the type that existed before Columbus ever made it to the Americas. I must've watched Pocahontas a billion times. I knew all the songs by heart and sang them. Constantly. My mom bought me moccasins and I practiced walking quietly. It's a wonder my family didn't kick me outside for a night to give me a reality check.
My next dream was a storyteller. Late at night, in the room my sister and I shared, I would tell stories. They were usually love stories (thank you, Disney brainwashing), but there was the occasional horror or tragedy. This lasted until I realized I had no more good ideas. At that age, I figured my talent was gone forever and gave up on the idea. It wasn't until later that I realized all my plotlines were taken from stories I had heard others tell. Unintentional verbal plagerism, I promise.
My parents used to tell me I'd make a great lawyer. I could debate my way out of almost any punishment. When my parents were disciplining one of my siblings, I'd jump in the conversation and explain how Sibling A was actually responding to Sibling B, or how Sibling A was a victim of circumstance. My siblings enjoyed it; my parents weren't as amused. If it was this easy to win cases, I thought, being a lawyer should be easy! Then I found out they had to do much more than argue. They had to be informed about laws and previous cases. They had to go to college, then grad school. And worst of all, they didn't always win. That career path went out the window. Let's be honest. I just wanted to argue, and I had a brother for that. Who needed to get a degree when my archnemesis was already available?
I then turned to my dream of being a wife and mother. I was in high school, and figured I'd go to BYU, get married, graduate with a 4.0 and have kids. That was my simplistic plan. As of yet, only the going to BYU part has worked out. The rest, well, there's still time. Except for the GPA thing. That's toast.
Coming to BYU gave me some perspective. I realized that there were tons of things I could do now that would be more difficult, though not impossible, once I was married. Like having an internship in New York. Or having the ability to change my major and take some useless classes just for fun. Or to spend Halloween writing (and procrastinating) a political science paper. Not that this is my dream Halloween activity, I'm just saying this would be more difficult if I had other responsibilities too. What would I ever do if procrastination wasn't an option! I'm just not ready for this dream yet. I haven't grown into it.
Moral of the story: most of the things I wanted would have made me miserable. I mean, do I look like the type who would happily eat deer meat for a living? I don't even like steak. Five-year-old dreams change, because I change. And thank goodness for that!
