All our lives we've been taught to behave, to share, to not put metal in the microwave… We've been raised on good manners and have had the ideas planted in our heads that life is whatever we make it, that we’re all in control of our own destiny and that if we just believe, that we can be anything.
When I was younger, rolling across shag carpeting in rollerblades, I dreamt of becoming a fabulous actress. The one that drops jaws and turns heads and that looks stunningly gorgeous in every gown her endless supply of money could buy. And as the years went by and my temporary obsessions came and went, I struggled with what I really wanted to be. What I was really meant to do. Suddenly my stunning actress turned into a dental hygienist and my ambitions of a secret spy was shattered by thoughts of days in a poorly conditioned cubical.
Reality crushed my dreams. Still does sometimes. I sit here and think, why can’t I do something I honesty love without the fear of not being able to support my family or even myself? Why isn’t there more to life than millions of mindless zombies shuffling through busy streets, spilling coffee and hiding behind newspapers..?
I guess this could be just some mid life crisis at the age of 15… Heck, this could be a sign that I’m not gonna live past 30, but you know what? No matter how morbid or depressing this sounds, I don’t care how long I live. As long as it’s long enough to make a difference.
See? This is what I’m talking about. The news goes from a man’s death to a youth chorus group in a local area. A living, breathing man isn’t alive anymore. Somewhere people are crying and hugging and praying that their loved one could come back, and then they get bombarded by the fact that their son isn’t worth more than a four second acknowledgment on the local news station by a man who looks like he’s about to fall asleep. What’s wrong with this… What’s wrong with us?