Okay so cleaning is a full-time job. No matter how many times I clean a room and walk away thinking its finished I must understand its never finished! Tomorrow the waste basket will start to fill up and the dust will again gather. And I have yet to learn that cleaning doesn’t mean I have to complain. I am a complainer. Why? I can’t say, it doesn’t bring me anything except maybe a little sympathy and who needs that? I even have a husband who helps me with chores and cooking. Armed with that, who has a right to complain?
Once I start complaining about something like cleaning, I realize the same attitude seeps into other areas. I let my dreams to design fashion and write and do art float around in la la land. But then its as if my dreams are just things that also gather dust every day, and when I don’t touch them, they become more obsolete.
I don’t know what it is that I fear. Maybe that my dreams will turn out charred, the way a specially prepared dinner might end up in ashes at the bottom of the pan. Maybe I will think a dream to death and pursue it with gusto just to put it down and forget about it.
Many of us have a lot of dreams we want to pursue, and the funny thing is anything is possible, it’s just about doing the work. But the thing about pursuing your dreams and paying your dues to get there, is that once you have earned a spot in life doing what you want to do and being who you want to be, no one can touch you. No one can tell you no, because you have earned it. Now isn’t that worth it after all?