Viewport width =
September 17, 2012 | by  | in Opinion | [ssba]

Things You Already Know But Just Need To Be Told

Of Aspiration

I have been thinking a lot recently about how success in any field is half luck and half being ready for when that luck appears. I have been thinking a lot about how unprepared, how not ready I feel. I have been thinking a lot about all the bits of the luck, all the opportunities that have passed me by or I have squandered because of not being ready. I have been thinking a lot about how much I beat myself up over these things.

Yes, I am not ready, but I need to remember that no one, really, is ever ready. Not properly one hundred per cent ready. I need to remember that I am more ready than I was last year or last month or yesterday or this morning. I need to remember to practice and practice and practice. Practice everything. I need to remember to get excited and make things.

I have been also thinking a lot about how vague the line between keeping my dreams on life-support and aspirational necrophilia is. When does it become pathetic? When does it become ridiculous? Will people tell me when I’m just making a fool out of myself by chasing my dreams?

If I can be sure of anything when it comes to people’s goals and desires it is that not everyone is going to achieve theirs. No one wants to admit their chances of failure. After all that is the first step towards it. Failure, that is. To dream is to reject doubt, but where are its limits?

I judge, so much, the people I see still pushing way too hard against the walls of their abilities when the writing has been up there for so long. Don’t they realise what dicks they look like? Don’t they realise they’re a bit of a joke? How will I know when I become one of those sad people, empty shells in a full-up world, still waiting in the empty car park of maybe for vocation to finally turn up and give me the lift home that it promised?

There is something honourable in never giving up. There is something terribly sad in never giving up.

Really all I want to believe that someone would tell me. That I would be informed when I’m at that nadir. However, no one seems to tell all those other people.

I know the answer to all of this is to not care. To, shudder, just do it. That is, I know, what’s best for me in the long run. Except that what’s best for me and what is best for the most people often do not align. I do not want to be a block in the path for other people, gathering mould and making other’s work harder.

Aspirations have that tricky habit of changing as soon as they come true. Nothing is ever good enough. It’s ridiculous that we have a word for feeling ‘accomplished’ because I have never met someone who has actually experienced it.

I keep thinking about the difference between having dreams and being a dreamer. I will only become the rock in other people’s path, the joked upon dreamer if I stop moving and start aspiring. To want is one thing, to get is another.

I have been thinking a lot recently about how to just keep moving.

Someone needs to tell me to stop trying to be ready. Someone needs to explain to me that there are always more chances and life is for living. Not just barrelling through with a To Do list of hopeful occurrences, crossing them out as each opportunity passes until all you are left with is an empty but not complete list and nothing but a shapeless dream to chase.


About the Author ()

Uther was one of the two arts editors in 2009. He was the horoscopier and theatre writer in 2010. Alongside Elle Hunt, Uther was coeditor in 2011.

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. VUW Halls Hiking Fees By 50–80% Next Year
  2. The Stats on Gender Disparities at VUW
  3. Issue 25 – Legacy
  4. Canta Wins Bid for Editorial Independence
  5. RA Speaks Out About Victoria University Hall Death
  6. VUW Hall Death: What We Know So Far
  8. New Normal
  9. Come In, The Door’s Open.
  10. Love in the Time of Face Tattoos

Editor's Pick

Uncomfortable places: skin.

:   Where are you from?  My list was always ready: England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales, puppy dogs’ tails, a little Spanish, maybe German, and—almost as an afterthought—half Samoan. An unwanted fraction.   But you don’t seem like a Samoan. I thought you were [inser

Do you know how to read? Sign up to our Newsletter!

* indicates required