September 23, 2019
Imagine having your heart set on what you thought was going to be the rest of your life… and you were okay with that. In fact, you were quite happy. Everything was going exactly as planned as you were almost halfway done with your 1st semester in your 2nd year of college.
Until- you turned 20.
I’ve heard horror stories of what the age 20 can do to you, but I never thought I would be a victim.
Today I am 20 years and a day old, and that little voice that I’ve been trying to ignore for years finally screamed at me. I promise you if my heart had ears of its own, she (yes- my heart) would have lost an eardrum. My heart was sending me a clear message: pursue a career that allows you to be creative daily.
I grew up with a very musical family. Everything from the music notes of 80’s rock-n-roll to musical theater flooded my home’s airways. However, that’s a blog post for another time.
When graduating high school, I was convinced I was never going to turn to music again or anything creative for that matter. I mean- I found a major that I somewhat enjoyed. It had a written out successive path that I could rely on. I take these classes, attend these schools, get an internship here, get a job there, and BOOM- I’m set.
I could imagine it now: making a little over six figures in my two-story beach house on the southern California coast. My job would be a routine 9-to-5 job downtown in an endearing private-practice space. When the day was done, I would return home to my adoring partner, help to make a delicious dinner, and later close my eyes on a feather-down pillow. That lifestyle was my dream and having that particular 9-to-5 job would assist in making that dream a reality.
However, now I am sitting in my Anatomy & Physiology class wanting to rip my eyeballs right out of their sockets. Oh yeah, and I did mention I’m 20 years (and a day) old, right?
Don’t tell anyone, but maybe I like feeling uncomfortable. Maybe, just maybe… I like the idea of a career in the arts. Something that makes me feel inspired, thrives on the concept of communication and connection, and most importantly- something that makes me feel like I am living.
In 3rd grade, I brought home a paper I wrote at school. From that day on my dad has told me, “you’d be such a great journalist… or songwriter!” I never believed him. I thought it was just my musician-for-a-dad talking to me. However, tonight as my dad and I munch down on our Publix fried chicken and sweet coleslaw, I start to tear up as it hits me; there’s more out there than that 9-to-5 well-off career I once thought was perfect.
As I wipe my tear with a fried chicken greased-stained napkin, I have to ask myself: why is 20 so scary? All the sudden, I’m 7,300 days old and shit just got real… like shit really wasn’t real on the 7,299th day of my life?
So, here I am: 20-and-all, being vulnerable, about to embark on a journey in a world I have no idea about: journalism.
Mind you, I’m an awful speller and haven’t taken a writing class in years… so this should be a blast. Happy Birthday to me.
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