Journalism

When I was a child, I very much operated under the idea that the world was my oyster. I hyper-fixated on every new job I learned about; astronaut, actress, FBI agent, flight attendant, teacher, etc. It was freeing to know that I could do whatever I wanted and I had nothing but time to decide. When people asked me what I wanted to do when I grew up, the answer always depended on what whim I was on that week. The impulses were also egged on by my father, whose sole philosophy in life is “If you love what you do, you’ll never work a day in your life.” This sentiment was burned into my brain and so I set off on my own path to discover what I loved. After all, what kid doesn’t like the sound of never working?
As time went on, patterns began to emerge in my daily habits. When I hung out with friends, our main activity would be recording videos and movies that we would show to our families as their feigned interest in another 20-minute long amateur production. I interviewed my family members for fun and I begged everyone to be in my clips. I used to write for hours, not realizing writing was not most people’s favorite way to get their thoughts down. I scribbled in my lime green, password-protected Justice journal every night before I went to bed.
The first time I heard someone talk about journalism, I immediately added it to my list of whims. I liked the idea of reporting, investigating, and storytelling. I’ve always been a little nosy. As the years passed, I always found myself going back to the same idea, but it never seemed plausible.
On the first day of my junior year of high school, I walked into my new creative writing class, unsure of what I was getting myself into. I didn’t consider myself a strong enough writer to be in a class just for that and I certainly didn’t think writing creatively would ever be something I’d enjoy. The teacher asked us to write a small story based on a prompt she gave us about our own life and I cranked out what I considered to be a regular, mediocre piece. The next day she used mine as an example for the class and put it up on the board. I had never had other people read my writing before and the feeling was electric. The teacher commented on my doc, “You are a WRITER,” and I still haven’t forgotten those words. After that day it clicked in my head that journalism was actually something I could do. I began to put all my energy into it and I didn’t care about all the people that told me I should have other options because it wasn’t going to be a lucrative career.
A few years later and I am ending my freshman year in college as a broadcast journalism major, more sure now than ever that this is what I want to do with my life. While journalism was only one of my many aspirations when I was younger, I’ve been writing and trying to get in front of a camera my whole life. I know my younger self would be so excited to see that I am following at least one of our dreams. Every time I see my name in print, I think of her.