Dedication

To everyone I love and care about. To everyone.

Dreams build nations, they fuel societies, and feed souls. Dreams keep us looking for improvements in our lives and surroundings and they make us want to be better. But right now, I'm watching something unnerving happen to some people close to me; their dreams are destroying them. These aren't gangsta, balla, playa dreams of fast cash, or that kind of drama. These are good people with honest, sincere dreams of being artists and sharing their gifts with others. And it's killing them.

A few years ago, my friends and I were happier being bohemian artists. We are vocalists, writers, artists, designers, you need something creative, someone in my bunch had it to offer. We all had our regular jobs, but we had our side gigs, and while I'm sure there were aspirations to be the next top star at whatever or given gift, we thought we had more time. More time to save money, more time to record, more time to write, more time to draw, more time to live, just more time. The side gigs eventually got pushed to the side as the regular jobs became more regular, and reality overcame our creativity.

Now, I'm watching my friends, all of us hovering around the age of 30, and their spirits are broken because they are so far from who they were just a few years ago, that they are miserable. The artists rarely pick up pencils to sketch, the singers don't sing a note, the writers hardly put pen to paper. It hurts them now. It's like a bad memory of a dead friend. A couple have had breakdowns and are now on medication, I think a couple more might be on the way. Because we didn't have either the time, motivation, allowances, whatever the right combination of elements is that propels some to stardom and not others, some of my beautifully talented and artistic friends are finding it unbearable to deal with how unfulfilled their lives have become. And while their is still time to do something about the situation, the realities of their lives (rent, bills, children, job, etc.) just gets more complex everyday.

I'm no exception, I've spent the past few years moving from state-to-state, country-to-country, never staying still long enough to pursue my dream with the dedication it deserved until now, and my present life means that I'm trying to achieve my dream in a country where my resources are extremely limited, I'm working part-time, in school full-time, I have a house to maintain and an occasionally medically fragile partner. Not exactly the ideal time to say, "Let's shoot for the stars!" But I'm 30-ish, I have no children, I own nothing of value other than my computer, I haven't had a permanent address since I was 17 and I want to give my dream a fucking try.

I think the trick with getting older isn't that my dream has changed, but the meaning of it to me has changed. Back in the day, maybe, the first time I was requested to be a featured poet at a local reading, my goal was to be my generations Maya Angelou, with a touch of Anne Rice for freakiness, and some Jill Scott thrown in (cuz I can hold sing a li'l too). Now, I want to be proud of myself. That's all. Because now that I've come to realize how damn hard it can be to successfully juggle the harsh weight of reality with the flimsy illusive sheath of dreams, any true progress I make towards my goal, any project I finish, any praise I receive, and souls I touch, is a triumph in and of itself.

Along those lines, I have a deeper appreciation for the love I get from all of my friends here for my work. Maybe this sort of sincere exchange of support would have pulled some of my friends back from the edge. To all the struggling artists out there, to everyone banging your head up against a wall because your life is not what you dreamed it would be, don't give up the dream. Even if you have to be responsible and deviate from the dream a bit, don't give up the dream.

Because dreams are more powerful than we think and you don't want them to start fighting back; you might not win.

Keep rising....