College is the place where we are supposed to find ourselves. You’ve heard the tale before, go to school, get an education and get a good job. However, today, this type of farming creates a fear of chasing dreams. The world seems to be tired of artists, or those who want to create in some shape or form.
Starving artists won’t survive against greedy guts. Meaning, if you want to make a good living, then get a degree in something that provides service to society.
I’m not trying to sound like the preacher to the choir. It’s just that in my five years at this university, a common theme that floods the classroom is the fear of going after artistic aspirations. Ambitions that could essentially cast color on the black-and-white world, where gray shades are painted everywhere.
“Not enough time, not enough money, I’m not good enough.” These statements repeat like a refrain in a poem every semester that I’ve been enrolled. I have witnessed wasted potential due to the fear of creation or foolish frowns for their actions.
I’ve almost fallen into this trap. Well, I’m still trying to escape it. You see, I’m an aspiring writer, and I’ve been through all the ups and downs like the letter “W.”
I’ve always been passive; life just seems to be passing me by.
My ears may not be accustomed to stereotypes, but it seems we listen to the same melodies, which are then followed by the same dance. I don’t know about you all, but some days I see color in gray skies and other days, I’m just walking in the rain.
The thing is, it’s acid rain, more painful and tainted than the water in Flint. It’s got me stuck in the mud.
That doesn’t mean I’ll be stationary forever.
I suppose what I’m trying to say is, writing this column is like my umbrella, which provides shade from the harsh conditions.
I’m sure anyone with his or her own craft can relate to this, and build upon it. When there’s rain, there is bound to be a rose garden.
