I have spent the last hour strolling around the house, staring into an empty fridge, and diving into family sized cereal boxes. I even did three separate loads of laundry to avoid sitting down and writing. I hate writing because it’s hard. Because I know that in order to create something I am proud of, something worth sharing, I must sit at my desk and squeeze every fragment of thought from my brain onto paper. Then I must meticulously edit and refine every word, sentence, and paragraph until my chaos is comprehensible. From there, I read it over until my eyes are sore which will prompt my fingers to hit undo until I am back to a blank page with a blinking cursor gawking at me.
So instead of working, I grab my phone and get to scrolling through the abyss that is Tumblr. Because although I hate writing, I do love reading. I love experiencing pieces of the world through different perspectives, discovering new philosophies to live by, and feeling inspired by other realities. That’s why I chose to attend Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo as an English major. It was a change of pace: a school embedded in rolling green hills sitting comfortably in California’s central coast. Surprisingly, my seventeen year old self was more focused on the location of the school and the reputation itself than the actual academics.
I did everything a college student is supposed to do: survive in the dorms, get involved, study hard and have fun. I met some of the most genuine people and became inseparable with my roommate and the girls next door. I enjoyed the college life, but some part of me felt incomplete. I’ve written all my life and I wasn’t writing as often. I was a singer in high school and I wasn’t singing anymore. I forgot that piano was one of my favorite things to play late at night. I felt so far from myself and I had barely noticed. I grew resentful of school and let my focus slip because I no longer felt a purpose there. It began to dawn on me that maybe this wasn’t the best fit – there must be a place where I could fulfill both my professional ambitions and my individual interests.
The decision to leave was two-fold: I was seeking life experience to guide my academic aspirations while searching for a more concentrated creative program at a school with greater resources. Leaving my new life to reunite with my old one was incredibly challenging – I doubted my decision every day. But I never had time after high school to simply sit with myself and question what it was I really wanted out of my education. Re-aligning my intentions took more emotional strength than I was prepared for, and I admit that I failed many times. But after months of self-discovery, working both service jobs and creative ones, taking master classes in music, and traveling to Europe and back, I now feel closer to myself than ever before. I gained valuable work experience and reunited with what I love. I can confidently say: I am ready again – and this time, I am not concerned with prestige.
In this next chapter, I hope to push my limits. I hope to find courage in my voice and to follow my curiosity. I hope to learn from my peers as much as I learn from my professors. I hope to evolve as an artist, a writer, and an individual, leaving college fully equipped for the next best step. Because as much as I hate writing, I can’t live without it. The process may be painful and tedious and messy, but the finished product is worth every minute. The satisfaction of holding my creation is what I live for. That’s why I write.