Maybe our story isnt one that starts as most stories do

Sometimes your parents impose their weaknesses or delusions upon you. They think that because their life didn't work out the way they wanted it to, in one way or another, that you are doomed to have the same kind of regrets.

When I was younger I wanted to be an artist. I had, still have, an amazing talent for that medium. But because my parents grew up in the Midwest, because of their generation, because of their traditions... they refused to nurture or support this side of me.

On the flip side my aunt and uncle encouraged their kids, whatever passion they had... sent them where ever they needed to be to achieve their goals, and SURPRISE the kids are doing what they love.

Now that I'm going into health care a as means to have a financial backbone and steady job... I have all the support in the world from my parents. My mother is glowing because in some small way I'm following in her foot steps. Yet the light in her eyes is something that pains me because she never lit up like that when I talked about what I loved.

There are so many opportunities in the arts; be it with computers, advertising, movies, books, games, museums. Yet all my parents could believe for me is that I would be some pitiful teacher helping students with their color wheels. It's not as though my passions or talents demanded that I become a super star. In fact I just wanted to be another successful cog in the machine of my choice.

Sometimes being practical feels like a sterilization of your soul. All the stars that hung in your sky have turned to construction paper held to some black poster board with Elmer's glue. The sparkle that was life's great mystery is just another plastic tube of glitter.

I think there was a pivotal time when my parent's support would have meant everything! But I get to join the club of those individuals... the thousands of them, that had to do something someone else wanted them to do, because that's the only time they would be given a hand of help.

And maybe, that's OK. Maybe our story isn't one that starts as most stories do. Perhaps the pieces, the concepts are delivered out of order than what others might receive them.

The goal of my life is to persevere... one day I will get there. I'm not allowed to give up!