College is the place where we are supposed to find ourselves. Youāve 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 wonāt survive against greedy guts. Meaning, if you want to make a good living, then get a degree in something that provides service to society.
Iām not trying to sound like the preacher to the choir. Itās 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.
āNot enough time, not enough money, Iām not good enough.ā These statements repeat like a refrain in a poem every semester that Iāve been enrolled. I have witnessed wasted potential due to the fear of creation or foolish frowns for their actions.
Iāve almost fallen into this trap. Well, Iām still trying to escape it. You see, Iām an aspiring writer, and Iāve been through all the ups and downs like the letter āW.ā
Iāve 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,Ā which are then followed by the same dance. I donāt know about you all, but some days I see color in gray skies and other days, Iām just walking in the rain.
The thing is, itās acid rain, more painful and tainted than the water in Flint. Itās got me stuck in the mud.
That doesnāt mean Iāll be stationary forever.
I suppose what Iām trying to say is, writing this column is like my umbrella, which provides shade from the harsh conditions.
Iām sure anyone with his or her own craft can relate to this, and build upon it. When thereās rain, there is bound to be a rose garden.
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