growinghumans


The Dollhouse
January 2, 2016, 3:19 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

When my sister was small, she asked for a dollhouse one Christmas. She got it. Well, rather, she got a large box full of all the pieces to make a dollhouse.

I’m sure when my father purchased this box, he figured it would be a week long project. He could go to work, come home, eat dinner, and then work on the dollhouse each evening.

One he started assembling the house, according to the instructions, it became clear to him that there was a better way to build this house. My father, an engineer at heart, disregarded the instructions. He used screws instead of glue. He hand carved individual roof shingles and stained them to match the rest of the house.

It took my father three years to build my sister’s dollhouse.

It became a running joke in my family; how my father takes forever to do anything–even the simplest tasks.

My father does not believe in simple tasks. Everything weighs the same. To my father, he was building a house. It did not matter if it was for a porcelain doll family wearing Victorian clothing, or for the President of the United States. If he was building it; if he was putting his time into it, it was going to be done correctly.

When the dollhouse was complete and placed finally in my sister’s room, she had surpassed the age in which a girl wants to play with a dollhouse. This didn’t matter. It sat in her room and earned awe from any friend or relative who viewed it. It still sits there today. What was once a few sheets of cheaply made plywood and glue has become a family heirloom.

Things of weight, of value, of importance are worth the time. You must be willing to stray from the instructions. You must be willing to endure questions and judgement from people who do not understand your vision.

I want to be a writer.

This is the year I want to become a writer. I want to be paid to write. I want to be given assignments. I want to be professional. I maybe even want to write a book some day.

I want to sit at my little desk, pour my heart into words and know that I am making a difference to a large group of people.

I have done work–I started this blog years ago, without even knowing what I wanted. I built my content. I built interest on a local level. I have reached out to other writers.

It is taking time. More time than I thought and every day I do not know what the next step will be. I am constantly checking myself–am I sure I want to do this? Do I even know what I am doing?

I am sure. I just have to continue to make sure that everything I put out there, like my father before me, is of high quality and well thought out.

Days, weeks, months, years–time is irrelevant when chasing a dream.

 

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