(no subject)
those of you that actually have me on your friends list can ignore this. it's a speech for forensics, and i'm just saving it here as a backup in case my computer messes up, and caleida is down. K!
Dreams on Hold
Every little kid always seems to have huge dreams. I know I certainly did, most of which were entirely unreasonable. Yet, I made sure to always take the necessary steps to follow my dreams; however long that particular dream remained a “dream” of mine, anyway. Unfortunately, it seems most of my dreams became not-so-wonderful realities. I’ll share a few of my experiences…
Being the typical little girly-girl that I was, it was only proper for me to believe that I was a princess and would one day be ruler of a country; not to mention wear a pretty dress and sparkling crown. My first week of kindergarten I was way too excited not to share my little “secret” with everyone. This is quite possibly the first mistake I made whilst traveling down my own career path. My new best friend was the first person I felt was worthy of knowing the secret. She was all too quick to inform me that if I was a real princess, I wouldn’t live in Virginia, and my parents would obviously be a king and a queen. Well, you can imagine how quickly my world came crashing down. My bubble was completely burst. After hearing this news, I cried myself to sleep for a week as my parents attempted to assure me that I was a “special” princess on my own way.
After I finally got over the fact that I wasn’t actually a princess, I decided it was time to try something new. I was around seven when I saw part of a rodeo show on television and discovered how cool it would be to be a cowgirl! After ceaselessly begging my parents for horseback riding lessons, they finally gave in. It turned out to be way more than I bargained for. I expected to get to wear pretty skirts and cowgirl boots. I also expected to be able to just jump on a horse and ride like a pro. I came to find out that in order to ride a horse you have to wear tight riding pants and that cowgirl boots aren’t as comfortable as you’d expect them to be. I also found that I could barely get on top of the horse without falling over, let alone let it actually GALLOP as I’m sitting on it! Then there’s the whole deal with cleaning out stalls. For those of you that aren’t aware, horses have a horrible odor and they’re not exactly clean animals. Let me tell you, had I known I’d have to clean up after one, I wouldn’t have begged quite so hard for the lessons. I thought you were supposed to hire someone to do all that work for you.
My parents decided this hobby was a little to expensive to throw away at the drop of a hat. I, however, did not agree with this. I began to take riding less and less seriously. Towards the end of my riding career, I began to create my own small predicaments that would soon add up to big problems in the eyes of my riding instructor. This began with simply “accidentally” forgetting my riding boots one day and ended up with “accidentally” forgetting my entire riding apparel and showing up in a bathing suit. I didn’t really see the problem with this, but apparently my riding instructor did. She informed my parents that she did not think I was adequate for her riding school, thus ending my riding career.
Grateful to be finished with that, I decided to try my hand at basketball. Turns out I have a dysfunctional hand. After several grueling tryouts, the coach decided not to cut anyone which is the only reason I actually made the team. It would’ve taken a miracle otherwise. During tryouts, I couldn’t even manage to master the art of dribbling the ball down the court, much less making a basket. The coach told us he would rank us by how well we played during the first game. With this in mind, I thought I would have time to improve by our first game. Come to find out our first game was just a week away. Despite my efforts, I became one of the players that sat the bench unless we were at least fifteen points ahead or fifteen points behind. After the season was over and I’d spent more than enough games keeping the bench warm, I decided not to humiliate myself any further, and gave up basketball.
These are just a few examples of how following my dreams never seems to work for me. Sometimes I look back on them and wonder why I didn’t pursue them any further. It’s those times that I have to remind myself why I gave them up to begin with and why they wouldn’t work out now: I’m still not royalty, so the princess idea was shot the day I was born. I still can’t stand the smell of horses, plus I don’t look good in riding pants. I still can’t play basketball to save my life; in fact, I’ve been labeled athletically challenged, seeing as I’m not good at pretty much ANY sport. As for now, my career’s on hold. I’m sick of following my dreams; I’m just going to stop and meet up with them later.
Dreams on Hold
Every little kid always seems to have huge dreams. I know I certainly did, most of which were entirely unreasonable. Yet, I made sure to always take the necessary steps to follow my dreams; however long that particular dream remained a “dream” of mine, anyway. Unfortunately, it seems most of my dreams became not-so-wonderful realities. I’ll share a few of my experiences…
Being the typical little girly-girl that I was, it was only proper for me to believe that I was a princess and would one day be ruler of a country; not to mention wear a pretty dress and sparkling crown. My first week of kindergarten I was way too excited not to share my little “secret” with everyone. This is quite possibly the first mistake I made whilst traveling down my own career path. My new best friend was the first person I felt was worthy of knowing the secret. She was all too quick to inform me that if I was a real princess, I wouldn’t live in Virginia, and my parents would obviously be a king and a queen. Well, you can imagine how quickly my world came crashing down. My bubble was completely burst. After hearing this news, I cried myself to sleep for a week as my parents attempted to assure me that I was a “special” princess on my own way.
After I finally got over the fact that I wasn’t actually a princess, I decided it was time to try something new. I was around seven when I saw part of a rodeo show on television and discovered how cool it would be to be a cowgirl! After ceaselessly begging my parents for horseback riding lessons, they finally gave in. It turned out to be way more than I bargained for. I expected to get to wear pretty skirts and cowgirl boots. I also expected to be able to just jump on a horse and ride like a pro. I came to find out that in order to ride a horse you have to wear tight riding pants and that cowgirl boots aren’t as comfortable as you’d expect them to be. I also found that I could barely get on top of the horse without falling over, let alone let it actually GALLOP as I’m sitting on it! Then there’s the whole deal with cleaning out stalls. For those of you that aren’t aware, horses have a horrible odor and they’re not exactly clean animals. Let me tell you, had I known I’d have to clean up after one, I wouldn’t have begged quite so hard for the lessons. I thought you were supposed to hire someone to do all that work for you.
My parents decided this hobby was a little to expensive to throw away at the drop of a hat. I, however, did not agree with this. I began to take riding less and less seriously. Towards the end of my riding career, I began to create my own small predicaments that would soon add up to big problems in the eyes of my riding instructor. This began with simply “accidentally” forgetting my riding boots one day and ended up with “accidentally” forgetting my entire riding apparel and showing up in a bathing suit. I didn’t really see the problem with this, but apparently my riding instructor did. She informed my parents that she did not think I was adequate for her riding school, thus ending my riding career.
Grateful to be finished with that, I decided to try my hand at basketball. Turns out I have a dysfunctional hand. After several grueling tryouts, the coach decided not to cut anyone which is the only reason I actually made the team. It would’ve taken a miracle otherwise. During tryouts, I couldn’t even manage to master the art of dribbling the ball down the court, much less making a basket. The coach told us he would rank us by how well we played during the first game. With this in mind, I thought I would have time to improve by our first game. Come to find out our first game was just a week away. Despite my efforts, I became one of the players that sat the bench unless we were at least fifteen points ahead or fifteen points behind. After the season was over and I’d spent more than enough games keeping the bench warm, I decided not to humiliate myself any further, and gave up basketball.
These are just a few examples of how following my dreams never seems to work for me. Sometimes I look back on them and wonder why I didn’t pursue them any further. It’s those times that I have to remind myself why I gave them up to begin with and why they wouldn’t work out now: I’m still not royalty, so the princess idea was shot the day I was born. I still can’t stand the smell of horses, plus I don’t look good in riding pants. I still can’t play basketball to save my life; in fact, I’ve been labeled athletically challenged, seeing as I’m not good at pretty much ANY sport. As for now, my career’s on hold. I’m sick of following my dreams; I’m just going to stop and meet up with them later.