Make Someone Proud
In my family some forms of creativity are considered the work of the devil. Not by me though. I admire the intricate placed dots of tattoo artistry. But my family does not share that inspiration. They say, “Nothing can come of this.” Yet, they also say something else. “You are unique to this, family.”
The thoughts of my family discouraged me. Temporarily changing my life-long goals. I wanted to be a doctor, dentist, or a teacher. You name it. The thought of shaming my family curbed my creative drive.
Once a long time ago I decided that making someone proud was worth my joys, my “freakish” joys. I took advanced classes. I took medical classes. I even took a foreign language class. They seemed pleased to see my challenges. Yet, that inane idea never truefully left. The idea was but submerged under piles of papers. I had kept my art class.
In that class which changed from Art One to Art Three I practiced my talent. One year I designed a fellow students tattoo. Someone else also asked me to help him or her, too. I stretched countless designs. Some twisted like vines. Some like graffiti. Some were animal. Most were flowers, stars, or bones.
Stretches of tattoos transformed into henna tattoos. My best friends became my canvas. We would spend hours doing this, practicing this. I even practiced on the kids in my medical class.
Still the disappoint and shame stayed with me. But that did not last long. For a girl your mother can be a best friend. Mom is one of my best friends.
She taught me one of my most life changing no, career-changing, and lessons. She told me “Being rich, becoming something like a doctor or dentist, or even doing what I do will not change how proud I am of what you will become. Because I will be proud of you sine you will be doing what you love.”
That was a few years ago. Currently I am thinking about English teacher but teachers need jobs in the summer. And thought ideas can change while some conversations of the past felt life changing. We still remember our passions. They can be molded but they will always be that passion. My mother gave me the freedom to form mine into something solid. Something my will be proud of without knowing what it is. Knowing only that is important to me.
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