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*Dream On*
Until your dream come true, that's what they say.
And after chatting with Mademoiselle M, I realised that both of us were just pretending all the way.
Pretending to be into these studies.
Pretending that's what we want to do.
Pretending we're happy with it.
Whereas we both know that's not what we want. I kinda always knew it but it hurts when you actually face the truth: you've been lying to yourself all along.
So what now? As we both agreed, the career shaping ahead of us is what we're ok to do, it's the "least worst" if we can't do what we want. But what do we want? Well, that's something else. I will not try to answer for her, since I know the answer is like a maze with dozen of doors and windows, failed opportunities and unsaid dreams. So the answer, just for me, is:
I cannot let myself down to the point I am working for money without enjoying it. I truely like translation and that whole business, I really do. But that's not my dream. My dream has to do with art, with freedom, with expressing myself. Not with conveying others' ideas. Not being in the darkness of a linguistic transaction. When I was a kid, my dream was to be a singer. Did I ever said to anyone? Not sure. Maybe Moran, after all you're still the one that knows me best, or worst, maybe. But yeah, and I surely will always hold a grudge against my parents for not encouraging me and let me get singing lessons and...
Along with singing, my big thing has always been writing. Always. Since I can write, I do write. I remember these days after school when the others would go outside to play and I'd stay in the classroom to write my fantastic stories about medieval times with adopted children that actually are princesses, knights on white horses and were-wolfes. And again, those who encouraged me most never were my parents. Because I would write in the "wrong" language. Because it wasn't intellectual and original enough. Because making "amour" rime with "toujours" was considered not good enough, even if the writer is 8. Yeah, that grudge is definitively there.
In all these dusty remorses and memories, I understand their reasons, mainly financial, but I just am still upset about it. So much could have, should have been said. Could have should have. I thought I was a forgetful person. Well, maybe not always. Now don't come and ask me why their opinion doesn't matter to me. Or why I pretend it doesn't because as I remember saying already, I still fecking look up to them and hope for their opprobation. As we all do I suppose.
Anyways what's done is done, so I might as well leave the past where it is, deep down in the back of an old chest in the attic of my mind.
The point is there are things I want to do and these are not finding a job in translation. These are doing photography and writing for a living. Drawing will remain a hobby, unless I would seriously work on it but I don't enjoy it enough to put the effort it. I don't enjoy it as much as the two others.
But the constant fight of "reasonable me" versus "dreamy me" that I already depicted here is still going on. I know I need a stable job to live peacefully. I know I am a very nervous person and that I'll be on the edge of a nervous breakdown every so often because I don't do as well as I'd want to. But the people that make me dream, those I envy, are those who made sacrifices to get what they wanted, and are happy with themselves for they're living their dreams. I wanna be one of those.
So what will I do?
Dream on, dream on, sure but until when? Until it's too late (or is it never too late)? Until the dream dies by itself? Why amn't I trying it now? Because I'm scared of failure, of course. As we all are. All I need is support. And a proper try to it, not just posting pictures on facebook and texts here. I want a photography course. Something to set me up.
So what will I do?
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