Becoming a Writer

There is one constant in every person’s life. It’s something that every person can relate to no matter how much he or she may hate it or crave for it to come. A simple six letter word unbiased to gender, race, religion, or age. Change; a tsunami that spreads across our being, erasing all of what was and leading us to the dry land that will serve as a new chapter of our lives.

Most of us aren’t born with the knowledge of what we want to do with the rest of our lives. I certainly did not have a clue what I wanted to do. So, like any ambitious kid I tried a little bit of everything in hopes I could discover a career that would fill my days with excitement. First, I wanted to be an artist because I was better than most of the kids in my class and my imagination ran wild. But, when my hand started to cramp and the markers became too much for my mother’s washing machine I took on the task of becoming a veterinarian. I love all animals because they are sweet and never mean to do anything wrong. I’d accompany my dog to the vet for years, learning all I could from the professionals behind their desk, until it was time to put her down. Suddenly I knew I could not become a vet. Still, science stuck with me throughout the years and I craved to know how everything worked. I took as many science classes as I could in high school, and I decided to major in biology in the hopes of becoming a doctor. The classes were interesting, but mostly hard. I was miserable beyond belief and my favorite topic, human anatomy, couldn’t even lift me from my sorrows. The tests were long and complicated. Everything I learned within the classroom consisted of strict facts with little room to breath.

I began to crave creativity, to form stories and tales so obscure and impossible science could not touch it. Whenever I had a chance, I started to write. First, I wrote poems. They were small and simple with only a couple of verses. Then I wrote short stories filled with outlandish characters and subtle twists in the plot. Finally, I resolved to change my major, for every time I picked up a pencil and started to write, a smile would form on my face and a happiness I never knew when studying science seemed to rise from the pit of my stomach.

I called my dad one night and said, “Science no longer suits me. I’d rather die happy and poor than rich and unhappy. I want to be a writer, I wish to write movies.” It took me weeks to find the courage to tell my dad all I was thinking and even more courage to stay on the phone.

“A writer,” he said in a low, questioning voice. After minutes of silence he continued, “It’s your life Ian, as a parent all I can hope for is for you to be happy with choices you make and the changes that occur because of it.” The next day I marched into the English office with a smile that could rival the Cheshire cat and filled out the sheet of paper that would change my major.

Today, I am a junior at Binghamton University. My major is English Rhetoric and I plan to write movies that you, the reader of this blog, may someday watch and bring your kids to. I used to hate change, the very thought of a routine being ruined and changing my day-to-day life used to wreck my dreams and fill my nightmares. Now, I give change the benefit of the doubt and jump into life’s twist and turns with a new outlook. This week, I encourage you to embrace change and not shy away from it. Take the time to look back in your life and try to remember all the good experiences that were caused by one door closing and another opening. Have a wonderful weekend! #InternIan

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