Becoming a Dreamer

Picture me at 18 years old. Actually put some valiant effort into that, because I was much skinnier then, so this will be a more flattering place to start.

At 18, I live my entire life in practicality and reason. I approach things as a realist, sometimes to an alarming degree. I don’t like breaking rules. I don’t like the idea of getting into trouble. I don’t drink or try any drugs through my entire childhood and rambunctious teenage dome. You get the picture—I wasn’t the kind of kid to paint graffiti on the sides of buildings or get caught making out in the closet at somebody’s house party. I was never good at being indulgent or a risk taker. Don’t expect me to be the first to jump into the deep end of the pool. Hell, don’t expect me to be the first one to suggest going into the pool. Me in a bathing suit? In public? Do you want an entire collection of people to be simultaneously horrified and blinded at the same time? I didn’t think so.

Now, let’s move on from those chilling thoughts and settle into the now. The present Maddie, who is 22 and thought she knew exactly what she was doing. Thought she had created a practical college plan to follow and is instead staring into the future like it’s a San Francisco fog. I declared my business major at Seattle University because I thought it was a responsible step. I knew one day I wanted to own my own business and become an entrepreneur.

Now I’m two quarters from graduating, and on paper, I’m satisfactory for the business world. I’ve had work experience, two internships, and a handful of leadership experiences. I even have a leadership and mentoring position at the business school. In fact, to my current employer, who may be fully willing to hire me after graduation, I look fancy and clean-cut and like I’m ready to take on new responsibility.

So whoop-de-doo, put a cherry on top. The pie is baked, decorated, and ready to go, right? Wrong. Here’s where I hit the road-block.

What if instead, I took all that practical planning I’ve been assembling, molding, perfecting into the damn Mona Lisa, and, well…threw it out the window? What if I based my future goals on the one part of my life where I’m impulsive and indulgent: singing publicly.

Why would I do that? Well, here’s some context: Ever since I was about 4, I’ve been singing. Now, I’m fully aware that EVERY performer you come across will say something like that. Something along the lines of “I’ve basically been performing since the day I was born.” Oh sure, you came tap dancing out of your mother’s womb. I get it. What I mean by starting like that is to say that ever since I was young, it’s been one of the only things I felt good at. My first solo was in the 5th grade musical, where I tested out my a-bit-mature-for-my-age big voice. Later, I performed in middle school talent shows and watched tiny pubescent heads turn from the audience to try to figure out where that loud (not yet very controlled) singing voice was coming from. As I got older, I tried so hard to sound like famous pop stars and divas of soul and rnb. I sang at talent shows and sporting events in high school. I joined the choirs. I pretended like I knew how to write good songs and recorded demos when I was 15. That was and remains my identity to most people. I’m Maddie Cary: the girl with the big voice.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iafMhtDQD3g&feature=youtu.be]

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