Billy Joel said, “if you aren’t doing what you love you’re wasting your time.” Nobody wants to waste their life doing some lame job where you write lame papers all day; playing a sport you hate just because you’re good at it, and it pays the bills. When you grow up though,  it seems like that’s the only thing left. No room left for the things you love. Thankfully I’m not all grown up yet, despite what some might say. My mom says it’s important to take advantage of this, to only do what I really love. In 7th grade science my friend asked me to join cheerleading. She said that her sister had asked her to recruit, and that there wouldn’t even be a cheer team if not enough people joined. From seventh grade all the way until eighth grade I loved to cheer. Just three people in my grade in it, my best friends. My first stunt was in 8th grade football season, a basic prep with the “OG'' stunt group, only enough people for one. Stunting was instantly my favorite; the rush of throwing people around partnered with the responsibility of catching them, sprinkled with the sounds of applause and gasps when it hit. Then in eighth grade basketball cheer the fun began to fade; too much competition. I’d forgotten why I love to cheer. We had two preps now. In high school there were entirely new problems. I didn’t like that I couldn’t ride the bus with my band friends. Didn’t like that I never got a break at halftime. Didn’t like feeling left out of the marching band because I chose to do more. Didn’t like that they replaced my first coach with someone new. Didn’t like that people assumed I was mean. I remember someone in the drumline asked me, as we were lining up for the homecoming parade, if I was going to stick with band next year, assuming that I would quit and prefer cheer. I said that I was thinking about the opposite, actually. She seemed shocked, and I think about that moment a lot. I know many people give cheer and cheerleaders a bad rap. Every cheer coach fat shames them, every cheerleader is mean, none of them are actually friends, and they only care about being the top girl. The truth is, 10% of every group of people is bad. 10% of cheerleaders, 10% of cheer coaches. If you let other people and yourself sum up your own life just because of 10%, you lose sight of the things you really love. When you just like something, your mind can change in an instant, and what you thought was adoration can turn to hate. When you actually love to do something, it inspires you, even when you get annoyed with it. You want to be better, to try harder, and you don’t care if it’s difficult because you’re doing what you love. Love like this isn’t always obvious, it lies in a box, deep in the basement of your heart, waiting for you to remember. I love summer practice, the sharp sun beaming down on us kicking and chanting underneath a tree. I love learning new things, new dances, new cheers. They’re probably from Instagram or Facebook, but we make them feel like our own. I love re-learning, making the magic of the first time rush over me like a tsunami, soaking me in joy. I love working out, from jumps to biceps, until I’m sweaty and out of breath. Working so hard makes me feel good. Most of all I love the pride that fills my chest, like a little nesting doll inside of me, the big nesting doll. When we win, when I march onto the field, standing out from the wool clad band uniforms. When we lose, when we line up for the National Anthem, when I feel the blinding stadium lights blur my vision. That good old American spirit I had never known till now. It feels like everyone is watching me, but not like in English class during a speech. This attention I know is good. Cheer makes me want to be better. It feels corny saying that, but would it still seem so if I was writing about football instead? It’s unlikely I’ll be able to cheer in college, or join an all-star team that competes around the world. Our team feels small compared to them, and it disheartens me to think that our impact is so minuscule. But it’s not. Our coach gets emails after games about how amazing we look, and how we’ve changed cheerleading at this school. Waving at little girls in the stands, and hanging out with the elementary cheerleaders at the homecoming game. They seem like small moments, and I can only hope that they mean more. I can only hope that those little girls feel inspired to always do what they love, not even though, but because, it won’t always be there. My friend, the one who first asked me to join cheerleading once mentioned a vision of us, and ever since it’s been stuck in my head, like a song I can never get tired of. I am driven by the image, sun setting behind the field, the band frozen like statues, with an aisle made down the middle just for us. Senior night, walking across the 50 yard line, in my sparkly cheer skirt with my saxophone around my neck; me and her as senior captains in our 11th season; seeing all our hard work pay off for once. No hobby is useless unless you never work to be better, or lose sight of your goals; let your love lead you forward.