I do not have time to be writing this. I’ve got a politics essay due that’s worth a quarter of my grade, a web design project with an essay explanation, and two quizzes to prepare for in the next three days. Yet here I am, writing for an unpaid position that, to most observers, has done nothing but add even more stress to the already-hectic life I live. As a rational person, I often find myself wondering “Why, exactly, did I agree to this?” And then the irrational part of me that I have let survive this long pipes up.
“Because passion cannot be quelled.”
That’s all there is to it. I love to write. I finally have an opportunity to put down what I can’t in a class essay or in a personalized journal format. I have a way to get my thoughts down and be sure that people will see them and care. The feedback I have gotten from family, friends and near-strangers has been overwhelmingly supportive. With full disclosure, my self-esteem has taken a huge upswing, too.
My ability to write has always been there; I just never pushed it. I was able to get through high school without too much worry simply because my brain fits well into the generic educational system we currently have in place. Why write better when I could do every paper the day before and skate by?
It wasn’t until my senior year when I had one of the greatest teachers and most positive people I know come into my life and tell me to stop laying around. That's when I decided to start taking my writing seriously. She critiqued extra essays I wrote, she evaluated my college essays, and she would sit down and discuss with me the merits of my beliefs, not just the words on the page. This positive feedback propelled me in the best way possible upon entering college. I not only became a much more informed writer, but also someone who better understood the need to be a well-rounded person. To Mrs. Helland, I cannot thank you enough for what you taught me and for your encouragement in my choosing University of Portland -- I owe you.
In all honesty, I did continue to push papers back in college, but just until the week before they were due. I would actually review my writing and try to improve it, and I found myself much happier with my grades. They were still good, but the feedback was better than ever. Sure, that’s part of the difference between high school and college, but it meant more to me also because I knew I was trying for the first time in a long time.
Entering my second year, my commitment to improving my writing increased even more. Taking more challenging classes required that of me, and I couldn’t be more grateful. I fell in love with writing once given the opportunity to join Odyssey, though.
I signed up more on a whim than anything, thinking it would be a good thing to add to a resume down the road. But after I typed the last period of my first article, I felt a surge of confidence. My ideas that I had never been able to get quite right were down on a page and ready for anyone with Internet access to read. I had faith in my message and a swell of pride in my chest as I submitted the article to my editors. I wrote a second one that weekend and felt the same wave of joy. I had finally tapped into a form of self-expression I had not yet been able to show the world.
Since then I’ve had a few more articles come out and I couldn’t be happier with them. I know I am writing what I believe and the support of the people around me is incredible. I have been so thankful to have found a healthy outlet for myself, and I have learned a valuable lesson from it.
In order to find what you love, you have to push yourself. Nothing worth doing comes easily -- except mac ‘n cheese, and even that can’t set your heart free all the time. Take the time to know yourself and explore what is out there. Hike in the rain, go for a swim, run through the neighborhood. Try your hand at magic tricks or baking. Give photography or poetry or writing a shot because you never know what’s going to resonate with you.
A year ago, if I had been asked if I’d be willing to spend enough time to write (at least) an article a week for no pay, I would have rolled my eyes. Now, though, I am able to understand what Edgar Lee Masters meant in "George Gray" when he wrote:
“To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness,
But life without meaning is the torture
Of restlessness and vague desire--”
I am going mad with the stress of writing articles like this, but I no longer have a sense of lacking in my life. Writing has become my passion and my outlet -- now go chase yours.
