When is it time to give up on a dream?

Hello again, and slightly surprisingly for the second time this month! Having gone through a period of writer’s block at the beginning of the year, it would now appear that the flood gates are well and truly open. “Goodie”, I hear you say, albeit with an undercurrent of sarcasm.

This time I want to touch on something I may well have done before (and no, not a stranger’s knee): dreams. Not the lucid, vivid ones that involve fluffy clouds and sheep, but instead the aspirations of the soul. Now, I’ve written previously on the dreamer, and in summary I generally support them, but as I was walking home this evening, in the rain, wind and dark (just trying to set the mood) I positioned my thoughts on my own aspirations in life. In an act of shameless self-promotion I must say that the idea of dreams struck me as a good topic and one on which to end the final chapter of my impending book. Yes that’s right, there is a book on its way and unlike my previous ventures into the world of literature this one will be available, at least in some capacity, to the outside world. However, more on that over the summer once I’ve actually finished writing it. The events of today made me question myself and my own dreams. I’ve often contemplated whether this whole writing malarkey will really lead anywhere, but today I’ve really questioned it. Which makes me ask the obvious question: when is it time to give up on a dream?

During the course of my day job, I have good moments and I have bad moments. I don’t suppose I am unique in that. Sometimes I actually convince myself I’m rather good at what I do, and then other days it is unequivocally transparent that I’m not. I say this with complete honesty and I think it stems from the fact that, although I can do my job, most of the time I don’t really want to be doing it. I doubt I’m unique in that either. The point is, that sadly this type of attitude is not very productive, neither for myself or for those I work with or for. The negativity stops progression in my role and realistically I have no-one but myself to blame for that. So why then am I negative, why am I resistant, why don’t I commit to my work? It’s hard to say, but most likely it’s because I don’t believe this is what I’ll end up doing. It’s probably worth pointing out at this juncture that, although my heart’s not really in my job, I do work hard. I just don’t work longer or harder than I have to. Not any more anyway.

When I was student, particularly during my Masters degree, I wanted to succeed. I woke up in the morning early, I’d roll a cigarette, get a cup of coffee and, hangover or no hangover, I’d trudge to the library to read. Real books and everything! I’d force myself to stay there until the evening, writing up notes, reading the core and peripheral course material. But why? I know exactly why now: I wanted to learn. And I think that thirst for knowledge will be with me for the rest of my life. Following my Masters I came to London and started working for a legal firm. I worked long days for little money, and the prospect of success and progress was dangled over me like a carrot over a donkey. After a while I came to realise two very important things. Firstly, that no matter how hard I worked at that job, or others like it, I’d never achieve what I had striven for all those years. I didn’t enjoy the lifestyle or the job, but loved the pressure and the illusion (because that’s all it was) of success. I thought that because I worked in an expensive suit in a tall glass building that I became a better person. I didn’t. Secondly, and probably more importantly I realised that even if I did finally make the money and climb to the heights I desired, some things would have to be sacrificed, most notably my time and values. These are two things I would never give up and in the end I realised this and left the organisation. In this case I knew the dream no longer existed; the fire and passion were both well and truly extinguished.

When I was a child I dreamed of being a footballer (among many other things). Now, anyone who has played football with me will know how hilarious that is. Hand on my heart I am a disastrously bad sportsman, about as gamely looking as Peter Crouch but sadly without the talent. That was however a harder dream to put down. I knew I would never be good enough, but it was something I wanted so much.

Looking back on both experiences I can say without hesitation that had I carried on working with the same mental conviction I had started with for the law firm, I would have made a ‘success’ of myself. However when I left, that dream had lost its veneer. It no longer appealed. On the contrary if you ask me if I’d like to play football for a living I would snap your hand off for the chance. I am course speaking metaphorically. I’m not an aggressive man.

My point is this (and apologies for taking almost one thousand words to make it): sometimes you really do have to give up on your dream(s). If I had continued to play football in the hope of making that my profession, I would have simply ended up wasting my time. Perhaps I would have gotten fit, which would have been nice, but other than that nothing would have happened. It’s a little like those contestants from the X-Factor, who are so deluded they believe they can sing. No amount of trying will ever make up for their hopeless lack of talent.

So am I saying I’m giving up writing? Of course not. The very fact I am writing my second article of the month should shoot any such whisperings from your lips. However, what my March evening stroll has helped me to come to terms with is that sooner or later I am going to have to commit to this dream or forget it. Being at work all day wishing to be somewhere else is not healthy, definitely if you don’t have the courage to act upon it. It makes you a worse employee and more importantly an unhappy person. Sooner or later you have to get up off your arse and do something, or stop talking about it and get on with living a life of corporate servitude. A life like that is not so bad, and if done happily, or at least more willingly, is a lot more fulfilling than one of hopeless dreaming and unrealistic ambition. I guess the important thing is dive into whatever you do, whether it’s filing, banking, stacking shelves, cleaning windows, whatever, with as much energy and enthusiasm as you can muster. The output is bound to be better. Sooner or later, if nothing comes of it, I’m sure I’ll hang up my pen. Don’t ask me exactly how, where or why, I’ll hang it; the logistics haven’t been ironed out and hopefully they’ll never need to be. But for now let me say that that day feels a long way off.