Bronx Masquerade Dreams, Hopes, and Plans Quotes

[Tyrone] tries to act like he's not even interested in school, like there's no point in studying hard, or dreaming about tomorrow, or bothering to graduate. He's got his reasons. I keep on him about going to school, though, saying I need the company. Besides, I tell him, if he drops out and gets a J.O.B., he won't have any time to work on his songs. That always gets to him. Tyrone might convince everybody else that he's all through with dreaming, but I know he wants to be a big hip-hop star. He's just afraid he won't live long enough to do it. Me, I hardly ever think about checking out. I'm more worried about figuring what I want to do if I live. (1.1)

School ain't nothin' but a joke. My moms don't want to hear that, but if it weren't for Wesley and my other homeys, I wouldn't even be here, aiight? These white folk talking 'bout some future, telling me I need to be planning for some future—like I got one! And Raynard agreeing, like he's smart enough to know. From what I hear, that boy can't hardly read! Anyway, it's them white folk that get me with this future mess […] Life is cold. Future? What I got is right now, right here, spending time with my homeys. Wish there was some future to talk about. I could use me some future. (3.1, 2)

I'm lucky Mr. Ward leaves brushes and watercolor paper for me to use, though I ain't gonna tell him that. It's none of his business I can't afford fancy brushes and watercolor paper at home. Anyway, it's good for him to help out the future Diego Rivera. He knows I'm the real deal. Didn't he come to me for advice on how to decorate the classroom? The paper frames were my idea. Good work belongs in a gallery, I told him. Especially if it's mine. (8.9)

I've been drawing since I can't remember when. Not that anyone here knows that, except Tanisha, and she found out by accident when she came to my house to study once and saw a couple of drawings hanging in my room. Mom loves my watercolors and she hung one in the living room, but it isn't signed. Nobody ever mentions it, especially not my father. He's not too wild about my art. Mostly, he's disappointed, first off that I wasn't born a boy, and second that I won't play ball like one. I'm six feet tall, almost as tall as he, and he figures the height is wasted on me since I don't share his dreams of me going to the WNBA. I keep telling him not to hold his breath. (11.3)

She tells me to ignore my stepfather, says I've got a lot to work with, that I can make myself over with hair and makeup. When I'm older. For now, I can barely get out of the house with lipstick. Meanwhile, I sit at my sewing machine and dream about the great transformation I'm going to make someday. As if I could use pinking shears to cut out a new face for myself. (29.11)

A still, small voice reminded me to return good for evil, reminded me that my plans for the future do not include fisticuffs or expulsion. I am college-bound and nothing is going to keep me from it. (44.10)

Just the thought of maybe never working in the theater makes me crazy, and one day, I tell this story about my father to Raul and I tell him I don't understand how my father's dream could just die like that, when what I really want to know is, can mine. And Raul says something that sticks with me. "Maybe your father's dream wasn't really in his heart. If a dream is in your heart, you never lose it."

After we had that conversation, I kicked my doubts to the back of the closet. (Well, almost. I still go in there now and then.) Part of me continues to be afraid of following in my father's footsteps. These days, though, I try to concentrate on keeping my grades up so I can get into NYU when the time comes, because one thing I know for sure is that my dream is in my heart.

I've got two more years of school to go. Two more years to hold on to my dream, and two more years of Open Mike Fridays. (56.8-10)

When I was seven,
I looked to heaven
and dreamed
of going to the moon
but pretty soon
somebody came along
to change
my tune.
They put me down.
Bang! There my dream lay
on the ground.
Thank God, eventually
I came around
and dreamed
another dream. (57.1)

It's great having somebody to study with, even though I do okay on my own. Mr. Ward says if I keep pulling up all my other grades the way I've pulled up my grade in English, I should be able to get into a decent college when I graduate. That's what I'm planning on.

I want to go somewhere out of state, somewhere away from home, away from Berto and his drinking buddies. I'll miss my sister, Christina, and her little Rosa, though. But I don't see them as much as I used to, anyway. I'm too busy with school.

I'm not sure what I want to major in at college. I know I want to do something with kids, though. Maybe become a kindergarten teacher, or a pediatrician. Gloria says I still got time to figure that out. Keeping my grades up so I can get into a good school—that's the main thing.

Christina says I'm the smart one. "I envy you, Lupe," she told me last night. I could hardly believe my ears. "I wish I had gone to college," she said.

Getting to college takes more than wishing, I can tell you that much. (69.15-19)

The future is ours. Let us have it. That's what she's saying. That's what we're all saying. But I'm lucky. These days my moms ain't trying to push me in one direction or another. She's just glad I have one.

I read her this poem I wrote called "Dream" about doing hip-hop with my own band, and she started crying. My moms don't cry easy, so I felt bad. But she said they were happy tears. "You keep writing, baby," she said. "You're doing good." (74.2-3)