The last time that I felt successful I felt like I had all the information and could get more if I needed it. I felt like I was doing something good. First in day care then in art by encouraging people to express through a craft. I know how to care for kids. I know art. I couldn't be shaken until someone higher up the food chain came along.
People with degrees started telling me that my style was wrong. There was nothing wrong with my information but I wasn't degreed and therefore I was doing it wrong. I don't know for certain that I recognized that person as a dream killer then. That an attempt was made to keep me out of my feild a second time when I changed focus, makes it quite clear that said "good intentioned" was in fact a dream killer. I have been surrounded by them and not recognized them as such.
We have nothing if we have no dreams. If we do not share our dreams do we really have them?
I want to write. I dream of being a writer. I am willing to do that through copy writing to start. But I want the ideas in my head to be a world between endpages. I don't dare share this again. The dream killers are out there lurking, waiting for me to have another dream. It's been 25 years since this writing dream died. I haven't told anyone in my old circle that I have resurrected it. My new friends are excited about it. But what do I do now?
I could go to the Great Internet Oracle, the Grand Master Geek of the Highest Order himself for a consult. But there again, I am afraid that he's just a little guy behind a curtain that will tell me I have to pass a series of tests only to find out he was stalling me cause he doesn't have the answer. I wish someone did.
A voice in my head says "All is inside, Grasshopper."
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