On a Sunday afternoon, Dazzy and Kat sat together in the basement of Johnson C, the house on campus where they lived with five of their friends. Dazzy’s recording equipment was out, along with the laptop he used to write lyrics. He lit up the bong sitting on the table in front of him and took a sizable rip. The smoke billowed majestically into the air.

“Man, I’m just trying to get some inspiration out here,” Dazzy said. “School and baseball are cool and everything, but the grind is giving me writer’s block for real.”

“Baby, I know you got a dream, but shouldn’t you be grinding on the other stuff?” Kat asked. “You got midterms this week, and that geology requirement sounds like it’s kicking your ass. Plus the season’s about to start, and that thing sure ain’t helping you stay in shape.” She pointed at the bong, which sat next to a bag of Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos and some beef jerky.

“Hey, don’t talk about my bong, that’s my baby,” Dazzy retorted as Kat pouted. “I’m good though, I’m chilling. I’ll study and hit the gym tomorrow. Today is a me day to work on my creative shit.”

“Well, your creative shit isn’t gonna pass your classes or win ballgames,” Kat argued. “You’ve already been turning up all weekend, how much more you time do you need?”

“Baby, I appreciate you trying to make me a better man,” Dazzy said as he put his around her and leaned in. “But I got this.” He pounded his chest. 

Suddenly, Dazzy’s favorite Art Gallery Villains song started playing from his phone. He picked up the call. 

“Hey, Mama,” he said to his mother.

“Hey sweetie, your father and I are just checking in. How’s everything going?”

Dazzy looked at the bong on the table. “Fantastic,” he said smoothly. “Just studying for midterms and working hard in the outfield every day. You know how it is around here.”

“That’s great, we’re excited for you,” his mother said.

His father cut in. “Hey, Daz. So you’re not still trying to work on any of that music career business, right?”

“Of course I am, Dad,” Dazzy asserted. “It’s one of my dreams.”

“But honey, you don’t have time for that,” his mother said. “School and baseball are what’s important right now. That, and your beautiful girlfriend. Hey Kat, if you’re there.”

“Also, man, it’s just not realistic,” his father said. “You need a good, solid, stable career path. You’re majoring in business for a reason.”

“You’re right, I am, it’s so I have the skills to grow my stuff,” Dazzy replied. “I don’t want to be working a boring-ass 9-to-5 for the rest of my life. I’m going to do something that makes me happy.”

“Dazzy, watch your language, boy,” his mother snapped. “And you need stability after you graduate. A steady income.”

“We don’t want you to grow up and be some Soundcloud rapper fool like Big Pimp or 7even-11even or any of those clowns. We want to keep being proud of you,” his father added.

“Yeah, that’s not what my music is like at all. You can be proud of me, but go off,” Dazzy said coldly.

“Just consider what we said, dear,” his mother said. “That’s all.”

“All right, man, good luck,” his father said. “Talk to you later. We love ya.”

“Yup, thanks. Bye.” He hung up and looked over at Kat. “Hey, don’t look at me,” she said. “They’re 100 percent right.” Dazzy sighed.