This is what living the dream looks like
In the fall of 2013, Julia and I drove together to Atlanta twice a week for internships at CNN. With traffic, our commute was about two hours each way — that’s a lot of time in the car together. We would sing Nicki Minaj songs at the top of our lungs, driving south down the highway toward our internships, fixating on lyrics that celebrated humble roots and ~hustling.
I remember when I couldn’t buy my mother a couch,
Now I’m sittin at the closing bought my mother a house,
You can never understand why I grind like I do,
Makiah and Julani why I grind like I do
“I’m the Best” is our anthem; it’s the anthem to our relationship, and to that time in our lives when we were so scared and so unsure, toes peeking over the precipice as we braced ourselves for the jump that was coming. All we wanted was to have jobs. All we wanted was to know that we were going to make it. This was the dream.
In my recent conversation with Esme Weijun Wang, she told me about the writing cohort she found when she was in her twenties. She listed some names — Jenny Zhang, Alice Kim, Karan Mahajan, and more — and the accomplishments she’s watched them reach. They’re publishing books, editing publications, and winning prizes, and they’re doing it together.
This is what I imagine when I think about a perfect future. When we’re feeling frustrated with our lives or our jobs, my friends and I will start talking as if we’re ten years older, walking down the street together and complaining about “grown up” problems.
“Ugh, the publisher just doesn’t understand my vision for the book cover!”
“It’s so difficult hiring good help.”
“I need to get back home to walk my goldendoodle before dinner.”
We laugh because we would kill to have the things we’re complaining about — money, attention, and a goldendoodle — but we know there’s a small part of ourselves that would still find something to complain about if we got them.
Somehow, that gives me comfort. Mostly because I remember that while there are things that bother me now, the Alex of 2013 would kill to be where she is now. And I think that’s something to keep in perspective.
Today, I still work with Julia. We do this podcast together. We build beautiful things together. We can pay our cell phone bills and live in apartments in a city, and we are living the dream.
And when we get drunk together on the weekends, one of us will inevitably sneak “I’m the Best,” onto the party’s playlist and we will shout the lyrics until there’s no breath left in us, because when we sing that song we’re 22 and driving to Atlanta, terrified and hopeful and unsure.
