The Case Against Dreams

Since graduation, people have increasingly been asking me what my dream jobs, dream companies, and dreams for the future are. Which is leading me to realize that I no longer have any. And I say that in the most optimistic way possible.

Dreams are made of ideas alone, floating in a weightless world with no bodies to bump up against them and shake them off course. So they go in straight lines, mostly just up.

But try to follow a dream in a world of matter, and things get far more twisted. You’ll hit walls and laws and ceilings, and have to recalculate your route to dodge, climb, or break them. When your ideas spill onto the scene and cause reactions, they’ll fizzle and change colors and explode, until you can barely recognize what you started with. You’ll collect dirt and leave a trail of elaborate curlicues as you spin your way into places you never planned to see.

And at some point, you’re likely to find that you and the dream have left each other’s sights. You might scan your surroundings, looking for another nearby dream to start your next game of obstacle-tag. It’s a game that can keep you moving for a lifetime, if that’s your thing.

Lately though, I’ve become more inclined to let those naked ideas float by as I turn my sights downward for inspiration, following the landscape of reality itself.

People say that dreams are about imagination, but when I listen to most of their dreams, the scope of possibilities is far more square and narrow than anything reality could devise. In those dreams, you know that the good guys win, and the girl marries the boy and stays that way, and success comes in windfalls and stays that way, and matter is different from energy and stays that way, and everything happens for a reason.

Some people get so caught up in those limited dream-worlds that their imaginations shrink to that scope. And with imaginations so narrow, they can’t envision the full range of reality, even as it stands right in front of them.

If you want your brain to buzz with things you never dreamed possible, try really exploring reality. Run your fingers into the crevices you used to step over, and trace the wrinkled pathways all the way out to the fringes. Look close at the frayed and jagged edges. (Truth be told, it’s all rather broken and messed-up, but so are most things worth spending time with. So are most things I love.) Now stand on the edges, and look at it from far away.

Once, I dreamed I could just spread my arms and fly. So I started running and jumping and falling and building to try and get up there. Until I was just running and jumping and falling and building to get somewhereSo far, that has been remarkably more interesting.

just say no

Okay, this is a bit extreme.

Are Adult Humans Supposed to Have Hobbies?

…you know, things that are not their job and not their life calling, and they enjoy doing those things sometimes without caring terribly hard about whether or not they are good at them?

Don’t get me wrong, I think it is very cool that my sets of “things I would voluntarily choose to do anyway” and “things that I am trying to do for my job” are largely converging, but this also sounds like a recipe for being an exclusive workaholic.

So should I start woodworking? Join a science fiction book club? Get really good at video games?

I’m trying to develop inexpensive and non-messy hobbies in particular:

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And generally trying to slurp creative juice out of neat little boxes. As adults do.

How To Do College

As you may have heard, I recently finished doing college. As a person on the internet, I firmly believe that having just completed something makes me both qualified and obligated to give advice about it. So here are my top pieces of fairly generic wisdom for people beginning to do college:

You don’t have to stick with whatever you picked first.
Majors, social circles, extracurricular involvements, worldviews, haircuts, or whatever–there is definitely pressure to make your declaration as soon as you show up. But remember that for the most part, nothing is holding you to whatever questionable snap judgements you made during orientation. If something is not working out as well as you thought it would, you have plenty of time to get over the shame of being wrong and try something else instead.

Don’t waste time pretending you know stuff you don’t actually know.
Even if you get a few judgey looks sometimes. The less time you spend trying to seem smart or talented or cool, the more time you get to spend actually learning stuff.

Learn from what you don’t like.
Hopefully, your time in college will be filled with fabulous experiences, but you’ll also probably run into classes you find disastrous, books you find overrated, art you find vapid, policies you find oppressive, personalities you find insufferable, and ideas you find really wrong.

But even when you are entirely justified in your disdain (sometimes you are), that doesn’t mean you’re wasting your time–you can learn plenty by negative example.

Notice what you don’t like, but more importantly, figure out exactly why you don’t like it.* Be as thoughtful and specific as possible. From there you can decide how to adapt to it, critique it, fix it, avoid replicating it yourself, create something completely different from it, or make sure you spend the rest of your life doing the exact opposite of it.

*Tip: in some cases, this might end up teaching you as much about yourself as it does about the object of dislike.

Live life with approximately four regrets.
I mean “no regrets” is a little extreme, right? If you’re having any fun at all–and even if you’re not–you’re probably going to make some mistakes for which regret is the appropriate reaction.

Sure, some people say that mistakes are not regrets, just learning experiences. But your mistakes are probably going to have consequences that hurt other people whose pain isn’t cancelled out by your lesson of the day.

So I’ve semi-arbitrarily picked four as the correct number of times to really mess up. It’s pretty low, but not as low as some other numbers, such as three.

Show up.
Things happen when you show up. (Side note: I hope to one day get the first Nobel Prize in Attendance.)

You won’t do all of the things.
Get over it now. You don’t have to feel bad about it. Don’t waste one of your four regrets on the newspaper you didn’t join while you were busy 3D printing/srat partying/protesting/baking cookies/dancing/actually studying. Just try to do some of the things pretty well and/or enjoyably.

Never “find yourself.”
College isn’t about finding yourself. It’s about realizing that the “self” as a unitary, discrete, and stable entity is an artificial construct maintained for its convenience in a Western individualist liberal social order.

(Or maybe that was just my college.)

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Note: if anyone has some advice on how to do life after this, send it my way

My Thesis (lol)

Did you know that, in addition to having assorted feelings on the internet, I have also been going to college for the past four years? Well, the one true motivation behind my education was to be on lolmythesis.com. I can leave now.

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Screenshoted from here!

Actual thesis here.

Career Development With a Twist: How to Fudge 3 Years of Professional Dance Experience

Greetings hopeless millennials, and welcome back to Career Development With a Twist, the career development service with no artificial preservatives!

This week’s edition is especially for you aspiring dancers approaching auditions with hopes of getting your foot in the door. If you have yet to book a paid dance job, you may find this door to be an endless revolving door, since everyone seems to want applicants with an elusive “3 years of prior professional dance experience.”

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Breaking into the professional world like…

But have no fear! By making these simple stylistic and philosophical adjustments to your resume, even you can convince auditioners that you have enough professional experience to be allowed gain professional experience!

1. Expand your definition of “paid.”

Sure the common interpretation of a “professional” is someone who receives money for their work, but it can be beneficial to consider other types of performance compensation as equally valid.

Examples:

  • Have you ever been provided with complimentary transportation for a performance? Can an elevator technically be considered a form of transportation?
  • Were there some pretzels or chips left in the dressing room to share? Salt has historically been recognized as a form of currency in many societies, so that’s basically the same as an edible paycheck.

(Disclaimer: A more inclusive definition of the term “paid” may come back to bite you if and when you ever get a job.)

2. Expand your definition of “dance job.”

The world is a stage, so any activity can technically be considered a performance opportunity. Highlight the dance aspect of any paid job you have held, and you might find that you’ve been a “professional dancer” longer than you knew!

Examples:

  • Instead of describing your position as an “Administrative Assistant,” try “Office Party Electric Slide Soloist.”
  • Instead of describing your summer experience as a “Lifeguard,” try “Durational Performance Art Piece: Exploring Stillness and Spectatorship.”

3. Work around the 3-year requirement by highlighting the subjectivity of time. 

How do you measure – measure a year? Include some comments with your date ranges to convince the directors that it’s too confusing to even try!

Examples:

  • XYZ Dance Company 2014-2015 (But like time is relative to the speed of the observer, so don’t read too much into it.)
  • DeathTrap Theme Park Performer June 2016-August 2016 (If you subscribe to the construct of uniform measured time imposed by post-industrial capitalism)
  • Stevie’s Dance Project June 2015 (But it felt like 20 years–those rehearsals were awful.)