Growing up, I wanted to be everything that I was not. I was certain that I had been called on by God to be the next Georgia O’Keeffe, although my artistic talent was nothing above the ordinary. Nevertheless, I had to have everything an artist should have, from an easel to the most expensive brushes. I’m not sure how my father handled me. And when I realized that I wasn’t an artist worthy of fame, I thought, ‘I must have been a born dancer.’ Certainly I was to be a prima ballerina. Leaving my brushes in the room above the garage, I went with my mother to buy a black leotard and some pink tights. Needless to say, my gracefullness wasn’t instantly apparent.

And when I arrived at USU two years ago, I fought, and fought, and fought against being an English major. But here I am. I’m not the next Austin, but I do understand this writing bit—at least better than I can pirouette.