Last year I was in my second year of college, attending a school in New York. At the beginning of the school year (2016-2017), I decided to major in Communication Studies because it was broad and it involved social media, which I thought I loved (we’ll revisit this).
During the Spring semester of 2017, I took two Communications courses. The first one was Intro to Communication Studies, which I found to be oversimple. The professor, with good intentions, spoon fed the information to us. It was one of those classes where the only thing you had to do was show up and raise your hand a few times and you’d pass. The second was Intro to Mass Media which was more interesting, but still, unengaging. It was an evening three-hour class (aka the bane of my existence). The professor was either entertaining or annoying, depending on my mood and the topic. The content of the class was interesting sometimes. The assignments and readings were straightforward and not overly complicated or overly simple. Unfortunately, none of the content in both of these classes made me eager to continue studying Communications. I hoped I’d just settle into it eventually.
During the summer I worked at a radio station back home in the Bahamas. As an intern, I was able to dabble in the different departments at the station. While I loved production and being on-air, the social media aspect of it paled in comparison. Besides the fact that I was an intern, I felt like I was doing it because I was well-versed, not because it was something I was passionate about.
Even after that, it didn’t hit me that I should change my major. I have this undying fear that I’m a “giver-upper.” Maybe if I stuck with it, I’d enjoy it eventually. Plus, it’s a broad field, I could end up doing anything. Right?
In the middle of my semester off (Fall 2017), I decided to research other schools to transfer to.
Honestly, I was reluctant to transfer because it’d be my third school in three years. I didn’t make any friends at the school I went to for freshman year, but I managed to make two great friends during my second year. I told them I’d be back in the spring. I couldn’t transfer. I’d have to start over again. I’d have to be friendless and new. Again. For the third time. In three freakin’ years. It might not seem like the biggest deal, but everyone that I knew in college was in what I like to call a “Stable College Enrollment.” Meaning they were comfortable at their college. They had friends. They had their favorite professors. They knew exactly where to eat on campus or where to not eat. They were in clubs, they had on-campus jobs. They made a home for the next few years. I wanted that.
When I found my current school online, I planned on applying for the Communications program. But then, I learned that they had a Creative Writing program and applied for that instead.
The more I thought about it, the more it made sense to me. Anytime someone asked me what my hobbies were, I’d tell them “reading and writing.” If I have to study something, why shouldn’t it be something that I love? My twelve-year-old self didn’t write terrible poetry in that purple composition notebook for nothing. She didn’t spend hours neglecting homework to read books for nothing. She did it for this.
That was the only school I applied to and I got in.
So, here I am at twenty-one, in my third year of college, majoring in Creative Writing. Hoping to someday write something that inspires other twelve-year-olds to ignore their homework for a few hours to finish their new books.
Unfortunately, I’m not at the point where I’m stable. I don’t have any friends, but I have a radio show and I’m a staff writer for one of the school’s literary magazines. This is great progress for me. Most days it is difficult because outside of class, I spend most of my time alone doing work. However, reading and writing all day is sort of a dream come true. So, I’ll be okay. I’m manifesting that I’ll be okay.
I apologize for the lack of posts. As you can see, it’s been a busy few months.
Thank you for reading.