Dreams vs. Goals: What's the Difference?

Almost everyone has dreams, aspirations for the future; a dot on the map to go running after. However, if you don’t have a plan, how do you expect to move closer to it? What direction do you start running?

A goal without a deadline is just a dream.

Let me write that one out again.

A goal without a deadline is just a dream.

Let’s compare this to a road trip. They are long, and the world is wide. You need experience, discipline, skill, and time. Let’s say you have never driven a road trip, and then this is a bit more difficult for you to comprehend what’s ahead.

Who is going to be driving the car?  You. There is only one person who can take you to your dreams, and that is you. People can give you good directions, or bad ones. Some can help you rest, some can encourage you on. But no one can drive for you. You have to want it, and you can’t stop.

So where is your destination? A blurred dot on a blotched map, and you have to figure out a way to get to that location. The way to clear the map so you know what paths need to be taken to reach your dream? Research. Let’s say you want to be a teacher. What is required of a teacher? A license, a Bachelor’s, experience. How do you get these things? The internet is a beautiful thing, and so are your coworkers, friends, family, teachers and professors. Not everyone knows everything, but everyone knows some of something. It’s a good start to lighting your way.

Exhaustion, traffic, possible car failure, accidents, varying terrain, weather: the list goes on of things you will experience. But that experience will only make you better, just keep going.

There are also going to be obstacles in the way: but they are there for a reason. They are there to prove how badly you want something. Other people that get to that wall will let them stop, but if you really want something, you will find your way around.

If there weren’t obstacles, then everyone would be a doctor. Everyone would be a professional model, or photographer, and for that the work quality would diminish. Obstacles are there for a reason, so only the people who truly want those jobs will get those jobs.

Let’s use me as an example here.

I have been drawing since kindergarten. I remember teachers going around with my art and showing the other classes what I did for years. Sounds like the beginning a great artist, right?

Not really.

I have a lot of talent as an artist: I notice too many things for it not to be true. But for me, it’s not my calling. I have trouble create what’s in my head onto paper with paint – a lot of trouble. I know what it takes to be an artist, to practice. Constantly. I even have connections through art professors and opportunities, but I know it’s not what I want to do.

That obstacle to become a professional artist did its job with me – it made me turn away. To my own brick wall – writing.

I’ve had a dream since I was a little girl, 13 to be exact, that I wanted to be a writer. A novelist exactly, my escapism of reading books atop a labyrinth of fallen trees in the woods. Although, I don’t just say that I want to be a writer. I write. And I read more than I write. I research. I watch interviews, I go to readings, I do everything I possibly can to get better.

My dream to be a professor: how I am making it a goal.

I found a graduate program with a teaching fellowship where I will be able to teach college classes and in exchange they waive the tuition – I am poor and on my own. This program alone is a dream for people like me. Although, this program is competitive; highly competitive. How am I going to get ready for this? Its one thing to like something – now I have to prove to them why I would be a great applicant for this program.

What I am going to do:

- I am applying to tutoring.

- I’m talking to my professors.

- I’m trying to job shadow not only my professors but high school teachers, as well.

- I’m keeping all of my school work for class planning examples.

- I’m touring the school and asking as many questions as I can about the program.

- I went to the faculty page and am reading the books that my MFA professors wrote (this is actually how I picked the school I want, if their writing style was what I wanted mine to mold into).

- I plan to meet the professors and getting them to put a face to my name, and hopefully show them how badly I want the fellowship.

This video is actually a great example of making your dreams come true, and it is funny. So pour yourself some tea and get a notepad, I watch this video frequently and highly recommend everything he says.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ji5_MqicxSo

Sass, Ass, and Class: And Why My Motto Should Be Yours, Too

I have been using this motto, especially after a long relationship that ended badly (and it’s catchy!) “Sass, Ass, and Class”, a great lifestyle change for me and hopefully for a few of you, as well. Let me break it down.

Sass – Internal

Sass means more than talking back, and talking back and being snippy isn’t always the best way to approach things. Being sassy with someone who is giving a job interview probably won’t turn out for the best.

However, by sass I really mean: Standing up for yourself.

Although this seems simple, it is major. I have been in situations that escalated into harassment several times and all because I was too nice. I thought that I was strong enough to take their pain as my own, because I thought it was easier that way. WRONG. I just became a target, and no one stood up for me. If you don’t stand up for yourself, if you don’t find a value in yourself, then who will?

Don’t let anyone use you. Don’t let anyone walk all over you.

There is a difference between being told to mop once and doing it, and being told to mop everyday when there are other people who have been doing nothing the whole time. You know when it’s been too much.

The most courageous act is still to think for yourself. Aloud.” ― Coco Chanel

Ass - Self

Judging someone at first sight, although we try not to, is a common thing. If someone doesn’t take care of themselves, you can’t expect them to take care of anything else. Would you want someone who bathes only once a week to take care of your child, or your car while you are away on vacation? I don’t know about you, but I would not trust them to take care of anything of mine.

Would you go into a job interview wearing dirty, wrinkly clothes and your hair a hot mess? Of course you wouldn’t, not if you want the job. But if you want to be respected and feel good about yourself everyday, you need to take care of yourself everyday. I’m not saying get a full face on, put on some heels; spend 45 minutes getting ready kinda deal. I mean wash your face, brush your teeth, and wear clean clothes kinda deal.

Health is a major, major part of life. You will feel better, live better, and I promise you will be treated better. Drink water for every meal rather than soda. Take the stairs rather than the elevator. Always wear clean clothes, wash your face every day, and brush your hair (if applicable). Carry your head up high, a good posture with your eyes level to your surroundings will also make you feel more controlled over your life and less kicked around.

Self esteem and self confidence are the best things in the world. The saying goes that you are your own worst enemy, and I wholeheartedly agree. People are always going to say you can’t do it, or that you are not strong enough to reach your dreams. But, have they met theirs? Look at the people who are successful in life, what do they constantly preach?

Don’t stop. Keep going. Never stop trying.

Compare that to those who are not successful.

You can’t do it. You aren’t strong enough. You aren’t good enough.

See the difference? What they tell you, they tell themselves. Pick who you want to be.

The first step is taking care of yourself, and giving yourself the strength and confidence to fight. Believe in yourself so strongly that the world believes you, too.

Class – External

In this over populated world, most people are horrifically rude and self centered. As much hope and love I see in humans and the world, I know this is true to a T. Working as a cashier at a mall in one of the richest neighborhoods in the world drove that home.

Be educated

Understand etiquette – I actually suggest investing in Emily Post’s book on etiquette.

http://www.amazon.com/Emily-Posts-Etiquette-18th-Edition/dp/0061740233/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1403493577&sr=8-1&keywords=emily+post+etiquette+18th+edition

(Warning: This thing is a textbook. However, it goes over almost everything, including how to behave on Facebook to weddings).

With etiquette, you see the world outside of you, and notice that others suffer. The reason why people are so rude is because they are going too fast and can’t see anything else. Stopping, breathing, and helping someone with a child take a seat or holding open the door will do wonders to your patience, your understanding, and your self worth.

Listening is also a major key. Most people listen to respond – people zone out 30 seconds into a conversation and just poke in “uh huh” and “yeahs” as appropriate. I know this has happened to you, it has to me and I hate it. To stop it, listen. No one ever got in trouble for listening. Listen to understand, and you will find yourself more whole as a person.

Be respectful, in order to get respect you must give it. Let your inner strength shine through your person, with your sass, with your ass, and rounded off with your class. Only you can make a change in your life, it’s your decision to make it a positive or a negative change.

Why I Am Naming My First Kid After My Professor

(No, I’m not expecting a child, but life favors the prepared. And the hypothetical “Dotty” of mine will have so many punny clothes).

Or rather, how my professor basically helped me become alive.

I went to college with a fear in my heart that was sitting neighbors to my dream to be a novelist. Most people just say writer, but novels were what tugged me out of bed to be born. I didn’t know what else to say, to be honest I was a bit too embarrassed.

“What are you going to do with a writing degree?” was all my father asked, and I would just say nothing, avoiding his gaze. To him, writing was reports. To me, it was a passion, a life line, and I wanted to create worlds. Not stiff jawed research reports.

To be honest, again, I was scared out of my mind. And doubted myself. Deciding my life plan as a tender teenager was like dashing any hope of ease once I blew out the candles to my twentieth birthday. A decade of hard work and milestones, every decisions reverberating throughout the rest of my life; the rocks I dropped into this pond would ripple to my death. I feared desperation as I became desperate.

            After a job shadowing my Sophomore year with my adviser, I decided I wanted to be a professor. The way he taught the class and his description of how to get to that job field put a path to follow on the unmarked territories of my life map. Sitting in the capstone class he was teaching swelled my heart, and I was talking about it for months after to my rather uninterested friends. I finally had a plan, and it looked beautiful. I was exhilarated, and a bit apprehensive. Was I just trying to justify to myself that I truly liked writing as much as I said I did?

I suppose the major gear in the grinds was growing up, all of my “literary geek” and “writer” friends were rather uppity (not saying all, just a select few I seemed to bump into), saying that I wasn’t a true writer or true geek like they were. Although, every time I wanted to talk character development or try a new book, they were too busy with either their indie concerts or playing Final Fantasy XIII, obviously there was no time to pencil in their “passion” in their schedules. It made me feel alone.

It was when fate decided that, my junior year, I would sign up for a Dr. McGavran’s Jane Austen Film and Literature class. She smiled at me in the English building and told me I should take it, nodding as she hooked her famous female writers umbrella onto her elbow. I agreed. And I am grateful every single day for that.

            For that class, we had to read all but Northanger Abbey of Jane Austen’s work. I stared at the book presentation sign up sheet the first day, where the class would pick one of the six slots for the six novels. People were crammed and jotted in and crossed out for Pride and Prejudice, and I felt my shoulders drop. On a whim, I scribbled my name under Mansfield Park as it said “Cinderella-like,” and I felt akin to it.  

           

            The first book/movie combo we engrossed was Sense and Sensibility. I, surprising myself, actually fell in love with it, watching the 1995’s version with dreamy eyes (both Dr. McGarvan and me loved the older versions; everyone else in class was for the 2000s push. Except Pride and Prejudice we did a 180, newer better and class loving the 90s one). I suppose it’s the lack of connection I held with my peers that I developed more thoroughly with my professor. It wasn’t long until I was coming over to her office just to chat, eying her full wall length book shelf crammed with aged multicolor.  

           

            Although, the breaking point started when we began reading Emma, and she recently discovered I was just reading eBooks as I was cut off from my parents at 18. I ventured back to her book horde and she handed me a book, gold with age and a frail turquoise cover.

“I had this book before I was married, you can see my maiden name in it. I have been married for 47 years,” she said, her eyes popping as she tapped the cover gently. My mouth eased open and I felt a Disney moment of “So this is love.”

The major milestone, the first igniting my passion, was a proof of it to myself in front of my peers. I grew up with bad self esteem, and I once doubted myself a great deal. I was researching for my Mansfield Park paper and stumbled across an essay saying that Fanny Price had something called a “Virgin’s Disease.” After class, the students actually arguing and getting into almost cat fights about their disdain for the poor girl, I almost ran up to my professor and told her my discovery in accelerated words. Her eyebrows jumped as she gasped, her excitement matching mine as I told her about it and said I would forward the discovery as other students were requesting her attention.

I walked out of that class, realizing exactly what went down. I was literally jumping up and down about something about literature that most of my peers and literature geeks rolled their eyes about. It made me realize that I cared about literature on an extreme depth that I had only one group of people that finally made me feel at home with – professors. As the words of Vinny from Atlantis: The Last Empire “it was like a sign from God – I found myself that boom.”