I started out in 1989 doing open mic nights. The first 10 years

Hear the words of Jim Breuer, spoken with honesty and laughter: “I started out in 1989 doing open mic nights. The first 10 years, I was literally all about I’m going to be a star. I want leather pants, I want a kangaroo, I want to be on MTV Cribs, I want to go to the mall with a pet monkey and I want everyone to go, ‘Wow, that guy’s huge, he’s successful.’” At first, these words sound like the ramblings of youthful ambition, colored by wild dreams and the desire for attention. Yet beneath them lies a timeless truth: that the path of greatness often begins with vanity, with dreams of glory, and only through time do we learn that success is not spectacle, but substance.

The imagery here is striking—leather pants, a kangaroo, a pet monkey, the gilded throne of fame on MTV Cribs. These are not practical goals, but symbols of how the young spirit imagines success: not as depth, but as display; not as character, but as applause. Breuer admits what many hide: that at the beginning, the heart often longs not for wisdom, but for recognition. This is the way of mortals—our first steps are driven by pride, our first dreams by glitter.

Yet such vanity is not to be mocked, for it is also a fire. The hunger for stardom pushes the young artist to endure long nights, failures, humiliations, and the grind of obscurity. It may be shallow at first, but it is also fuel. Just as the warrior at the outset dreams of crowns and treasures, so too the comedian dreamed of applause and strange luxuries. But as with all great journeys, the desire evolves. The warrior learns that honor is greater than spoils; the artist learns that truth is greater than glitter. Breuer’s reflection reminds us that time and struggle purify ambition into something nobler.

The ancients knew this path. Consider Alexander the Great, who began with the dream of conquering lands and hearing his name shouted by multitudes. He desired glory, the spectacle of being “the greatest.” But by the end of his life, having marched through countless lands, he wept not for more applause, but because no worlds were left to conquer. His journey shows the same pattern: youthful ambition begins in excess, but maturity reveals that greatness is not in trinkets, but in the impact left upon others.

So too with Breuer’s words. To long for a pet monkey in the mall is humorous, almost absurd. Yet it speaks of a universal yearning: to be seen, to be extraordinary, to stand apart from the crowd. All people carry this in youth. But as wisdom grows, one learns that the true measure of success is not in being stared at, but in being remembered for the good you brought to others. Fame fades; substance endures.

The quote also teaches us to embrace the foolishness of beginnings. For who among us did not once chase illusions? Who did not once believe that life’s greatness lay in riches, in possessions, in applause? To confess these early dreams is to show humility, and from humility comes growth. The path of transformation begins not in perfection, but in the honesty of saying, “This is where I started, but it is not where I stayed.”

Thus, the teaching is this: let your early dreams be what they are—wild, ambitious, even vain—but do not remain there. Let them carry you forward, but allow them to be refined by struggle, shaped by failure, and deepened by truth. Just as iron must first burn before it is forged into steel, so too must ambition burn before it becomes wisdom.

So let your action be this: dream boldly, but grow humbly. Chase your vision, but know that true greatness is not in leather pants or applause, not in being “huge” before strangers, but in being meaningful to those whose lives you touch. For in the end, the truest stage is not MTV Cribs, but the hearts of people who were changed because you dared to share your gift with all your soul.