Napoleon Ross.

Sometimes I like to pretend that I am really athletic.

No, really.

Not that I wouldn't or couldn't be athletic if I tried, but really I just have no desire to pretend to want to play ultimate frisbee every saturday morning at 6 am. I know I could do it and hold my own, but why waste a perfectly good saturday morning on sweaty armpits and grass stains? 

Once upon a time I was all into athletes and sports and track and field. Then I decided to be my own person and stop copycatting my sisters. So I turned to the sport of chords, both vocal and guitar.

I honestly think that my preference in interests is largely influenced by the year I was born. 1988. My graduating class in high school didn't win anything in sports, but everything in the arts. We even sucked it up in track and field which never happens at MVHS.

All of the friends that I have kept in touch with have this huge grasp on music, art, photography, drama, and all the other frilly things that most of my siblings make fun of.

So, with my inevitable destiny creeping up on me it leaves this sort of road block.

I'm a biology major. Academic success and challenge has always been my goal. Help animals. Learn how to perform horse surgery. Save all the cats and dogs at the pound. Horde all the animals on a farm and know how to take care of them myself without needing a vet, because I would do it all. I have always thought that obtaining a career in the medical field was something that I would really excel in. I don't get queazy at anything really, and I have been around a wide variety of animals throughout my lifetime, owning and taking care of as many as I could get my hands on. Witnessing all the varieties of births and mystery illnesses along the way. Also, I detest dead bodies, even when I see them on TV or all dolled up in a casket, so I doubt that I could ever be around them more then I had to, and that alone influenced my animal route even more. But the more I think about school and the fact that I won't be a Vet until I'm in my thirties, plus I would have to take anatomy anyway, doesn't really bode well at the moment. I can't help but feel like I need to jump ship before I get in over my head.

I feel proud and important having my current major. I know how challenging it is, how much I am going to have to work for it, and the thought of conquering a Biology degree will prove to everyone and myself how smart I really am. I'm a bit of a slacker, but my brains are in tact and I know what I am capable of.

So I have this conversation with my mom the other day, where she calls me and says these words: 

"So, I was thinking about how artistic you are and how good you are with computers and technology, and BYU has this new program for people who want to learn all about the film industry and I just think that you should forget this whole Biology thing and make movies."

Immediately after I thought these three things:

1: My mother thinks I'm too stupid to be a Vet.

2: Aren't parents supposed to push their children to be successful productive citizens of society, who make lots of money and have a better quality of life then them?

and 3: What mom tells their child to stop pursuing a medical degree and enter the film industry?

As the conversation with her continued I answered my own questions:

1: My mom also worries about the educational length of my career choice, and believes me to be very bright, creative, technologically inclined and inventive.

2: My mom honestly believes that I would make a serious amount of money if I went full throttle and reached for my dreams.

and 3: My mom. My mom who had so many dreams as a young woman and instead of going after them, she raised nine diverse children, some of whom actually went after their dreams, and succeeded.

She lit the flame.

Now I have to decide.

I have always considered myself to be artsy, even though I tried to deny it as a child. I always wanted to pretend that I was a tomboy like my cooler than me sisters who wore their Orem rec. soccer shirts on non soccer playing days with no shoes on. Running around the neighborhood, riding their bikes, with their unbrushed hair flapping in the wind as they came down the hill, and all the neighbor boys chasing after them with stick swords.

Meanwhile,  I played barbies for six straight hours.

I brushed my hair, and internally invented the middle parted two metal clippy hairdo.

I wrote stories about being grounded on the fourth of July, and pretended to be Mary with her baby Besus (bear jesus).

Creating and inventing wild things in my mind.

I fear that I am too self conscious to pursue anything in the arts. I write songs and poems and rarely share them with anyone in fear that they sound like a spice girls song. I draw, and paint, and sidewalk chalk, and internally give myself a pat on the back, while thinking to myself 'Bob Ross would be so proud'. Then, I immediately slap myself back into reality and recollect how long it took to do the shading on the upper lip of this portrait, which resembles a cat more than a person. 

I can write impromptu stories about nothing and make them sound like I spent a great deal on them when in reality, I was trying to rhyme Aphrodite with something and the best thing I could think of was hermaphrodite, and suddenly my love story turns into a racy mystery about a hermaphrodite in search for a love cupid at a gay bar. The arts can be rough sometimes.

I will struggle to find a career in the arts that I am not interested in. I am interested in everything. I wouldn't know which one to choose that would most benefit my future financially, and for the sake of my happiness. 

So I sit here. Stagnant yet again.