Everyone has their dream job.
When I was five years old, I wanted to be an actress. That is, until second grade, when it came time for me to read my lines for the school play. As I stood there on stage, staring out the sticky-floored cafeteria full of parents, most recording their little angel’s first play, I did not know what I was doing. I stood there frozen, stuttering and choking on the two sentences I had to deliver, my eyes full of tears. That was the first time I questioned everything I was doing and what I loved to do.
Of course, second grade me was able to bounce back from that traumatizing night full throttle. Following the rapid rise and fall of my acting career, I went through many different dream jobs, including but not limited to firefighting, baking, professional singing, fashion design, being a doctor, being a teacher, being an author, and, my favorite, being J. K. Rowling’s personal assistant. I wanted to do nothing more in life than to fetch The Queen her sparkling water!
Going through phases such as these were perfectly fine as a child, encouraged and accepted by peers, teachers, and parents. However, when you enter high school, particularly your junior and senior year, you magically have to know what you’re going to try doing for the rest of your life.
From middle school until my junior year of high school, my family accepted my hobbies and interests and frequently nudged me into the direction of choosing those outlets as a career path.
“Your drawings are so amazing! Have you ever thought about selling them? Or maybe you can be a cartoonist, and we can watch them on TV! ”
“You’re interested in digital design and film? You would be an amazing director! Crowds would line up for your movies!”
“When am I going to be able to pick up your first book at Barnes and Nobel? It'll be dedicated to me, right?”
Yet somehow, when I stepped over the threshold of my high school, ready to run and hug the friends I had not seen all summer and greet the teachers I had missed, all of the positive support of my hobbies changed in a heart beat.
“What do you mean you want to sell your art? Why don’t you try something more stable, like science and math?”
“You want to be a director? You know that that's a cut-throat business, right? Why don’t you get into economics? You’d make so much money that way!”
“You know publishing is a one in a million chance, and I want you to be happy, so you should try business or teaching. You'd be great at it!”
Why, all of a sudden, did I have to let go of my passions and my dreams? Why was I expected to walk into my junior year of high school, trade in a backpack filled with books, pastels, and a camera for a suit and tie, brief case, and cup of overpriced coffee to fit some kind of mold? I hadn't even earned a Varsity letter yet, how was I expected to pick a career!
I fed off of the positivity from the people who meant the most to me for my entire life. I wanted to write and publish and direct and create and film and breathe life into everything I did. I wanted my world to be bright and creative, filled with splashes of color and beautiful words that could only be satisfied by spending my life elbows deep in my passions and dreams. My dreams, while ever-changing, all focused on loving whatever I did and pouring my heart and soul into it.
But when I was expected to chose a major for my college applications, selecting “Undecided” from the list seemed like a lie. I knew what I wanted to do. I knew I wanted to follow my dreams, regardless of the price tag or income I would receive from that profession. Yet, regardless of my evident passion for creativity, I was still pushed towards business and economics, even though I hated numbers and the subject seemed incredibly dull. The people who were supposed to be supportive of my decisions were trying to sway me, and I followed the advice of the people who raised me and committed to a business administration major. I locked up some of my passions, casting them off as childish and unrealistic, just as my parents and teachers had wanted me to do when they took my hand and lead me down the business path.
My freshman year of college, I remained a loyal business student, stopping only to fulfill prerequisites for future classes. I listened to the heads of each department in the business school speak, allowing their words to wrap around me show me that business could possibly be for me. Looking back, I convinced myself that it was for me; it was not the directors of these departments doing that.
Most of my classes at the time were in other parts of campus, filling freshman prerequisites like foreign language and history. It was not until my second semester of my freshman year, in my writing 109 course, that I remembered what I had been missing, what I had locked away in a tiny box and left on a dusty shelf.
I missed writing. I missed creativity. I missed creating these beautiful pictures and videos with words, giving life to letters and creating beauty from a keyboard. After leaving the class and entering summer break, I did not know what to do anymore. I was not lying to myself when I said I loved being a business student, but my love of English and Art outweighed the enjoyment of having an easy class schedule with Fridays free of classes.
Now, a very long summer and two months later, I have committed to double majoring in English and Business, and I could not be happier. My best friend helped me realize what it was that I want to do for the rest of my life, what I have wanted to do for the majority of my life, and that I should not listen to others and follow my heart. You don’t have to listen to others bash your dreams and chose to do something different just because it pays more or has more stability. I have told many friends that college is the time for self-discovery, away from the invisible hand of our parents to guide us. College is a journey, and if I’ve learned anything so far, it’s that the best way to face the adventure is by following your dreams, even if they may not pay as well as a Wall Street Stock Manager.
It's better to be happy than to be rich!
