I was strongly considering majoring in business and working English on the side, but I asked my mother earlier about her past choice to become a journalist instead of a singer like she’d wanted, and oh, the woe! Her lament for dreams she didn’t follow, even admitting they might have failed, was like something out of a Charles Dickens book. I could hear Marley rattling his ghoulish chains and shouting, “You still have time! Don’t make this mistake!” At the same time, I don’t want to end up alone. I’m fine with being a starving writer, but who wants to starve with me? Even still, I also don’t want to be securely in a position I can’t stand: a nameless, numbered slot on some spreadsheet for dime-a-dozen office workers and business people.
Maybe you’re a business person reading this. If so, I’m not criticizing your life choice, whether you liked making it or not. Everyone wants to find something they can enjoy doing to support themselves, but some people also have to do something they hate to support themselves. At the point where you have to choose between a risky ambition and a stable job, no one has the right to pass some negative judgement on you. There is no rule-book for being an adult. Life doesn’t come with instructions. But I’m digressing.
Dreams are dangerous business, and they’ve costed some people their lives, but they are part of what makes life worth living. On the other hand, it’s hard to have that meaning if you can’t live off of what you spend your time doing. I’m not really sure that either choice is the right or wrong one. At the end of the day, they will both have consequences, good and bad.