Contributed by Shelby Powell on 03/07/08

You know ‘em. They have either hit the ceiling of their own ambition or the have no ambition at all. I always imagine them soaking wet from that imaginary black cloud which seems to hover over and rain on them everywhere they go. They crumple their faces like used napkins when you talk about your plans. They admonish you for being overly motivated. They constantly speak of doom and gloom in relation to anything you’re doing that is constructive. They huddle together as darkness envelopes them; only to scatter like roaches when the light of optimism shines. They are in your family. They are in your workplace. Some of you can find them in your inner circle. They are the dream haters. And that crew right there got me hot.

Not hot like … I’m too sexy for my PC hot. But hot like whistles blowing and steam escaping from the top of my dome hot. What cartoon character used to have smoke coming out of his ears when he got pissed? Was that Yosemite Sam? Well, if so, I’m straight Yosemite Sammin’ over here.

My 9-5 gig has me in the midst of a once “good ole boy” controlled network. A former bastion of nepotism and exclusivity, this industry and its constituents have held on to that mentality to this day. Outsiders, like me, who have been able to circumvent that network and land gainful employment in their hallowed halls, are rarely received warmly. And if you give them the least inkling that you aren’t thankful enough to kiss hot slag everyday for that opportunity, you brand yourself - target.

Do not misunderstand me. I thank my lucky stars religiously for not being one of the growing numbers of folk in this country who are withering away on capitalism’s supposedly healthy vine. My ability to prosper in a land where the schism between the haves and the have nots widens exponentially daily does not elude me. And I have, in part, the Fortune 500 Company I work for to thank. However, they haven’t done any favors for the folks I work side by side with who have also hop-scotched the network by hiring them. They have done their selves a favor by offering jobs to such an intelligent, diligent group of hardworking people; many of whom are artists. And those same people haven’t landed these jobs in spite of their alternate paths. They have, because of them. You see, the average artist has a work ethic beyond measure. Everyone has bills, but most stop there. Working for free, fitting 20 hours into ten, living and breathing the craft after 8 hours of the cubicle nation; that is the artist’s edict and we are governed accordingly.

The smattering of artistry I come across regularly is magnificent. I have friends who dance, write and draw, family members who create jewelry and a truck load of acquaintances who rap and produce tracks. While we are a little too loosely knit to consider ourselves a community and the story line from “Rent” seems to mystify more than follow the thoughts of the average adult I know, we do have one thing in common; people in our lives who do not believe. Irritating at best, heart wrenching at worst; the lack of confidence and the need to verbalize it is cruel. I could see people raising eyebrows at the stereotypical dude living in his mommas basement talking about he’s an actor while his kids go unfed because his day job is “following the dream.” But that isn’t the norm. The norm is splitting time between the day gig and the night gig. The norm is carrying sand bags under your eyes heavy as boulders because of the hectic, self-imposed scheduling of all of the projects. The norm is work, then the kid’s homework, then the night class work, then creative work. The norm is finding your limit, and then surpassing it because the love of your craft gives you an innate strength and determination the non-believers do not appreciate and try so hard to deny.

So they shake their heads and wave you on, oblivious to the grandeur within you. They plot your path to ruin, suggesting you trade that old notebook full of lyric and prose in for a CDL or a headset and a membership card to the local union. Their unease with your capability is matched only by the nagging feeling in their gut that whispers to them you may succeed.

My situation is no different. Presenting my ambition to a waiting pack of vultures, I smiled broadly like a child presenting his mother with his kindergarten art project. As I awaited praise and positive feed-back, I was quickly dumped into an abyss of negativity. Yosemite Sam crept into my consciousness as I listened to my audience kick down the walls I had been diligently building to my nirvana.

“Where are you going to find the time to do all that?”

“Is that what you have been typing over there? I thought you were doing something.”

“Girl, you have a good job. Why are you wasting your time?”

Damn.

What these folks don’t understand is they are living their lowered expectation while the strong still chase the dream; that epic speck on their horizons. The average artist will die without eating off their work so the ambition is to not be average. The skills are honed at all hours of the day and night. The artists mind is not allowed to rest because the next chord, note, dance step, brush stroke, key stroke, lyric, beat, whatever… is barreling down the cerebral cortex and it must be caught. It must be caught at that instant. That desire for the moment when your potential locks eyes with your reality is worth the sleepless nights. It’s worth the hard work. And it is worth facing the negativity firing squad as they hurl rubber bullet resentments, their own self-doubts and their once precious dreams deferred at you over and over and over again.

Well folks, I will not quit and I strongly suggest none of you do. Your search for the perfect beat is worthy of respect and you have that from me. Given, I may try to stop handing over fodder for the water cooler convo while at work. And I might keep my dreams to myself as I negotiate my day grind and all that comes with giving the entirety of my intellectual being to someone else’s dream when I am completely cognizant of my own. Then maybe, just maybe; I will be able to prove the haters wrong and put Yosemite Sam to bed for good.

Amen.

RELATED CONTENT

• • Singer/Songwriter The-Dream Vows To Never Work With Chris Brown Again [sohh.com]

  • AUDIO The-Dream ft. Rihanna “Livin’ A Lie”

  • AUDIO The-Dream ft. Young Jeezy “I Luv Your Girl (Remix)”

  • AUDIO 9th Wonder ft. Keisha Shontelle and Chaundon “Sunday”

  • Miri Ben-Ari Involved In Car Crash