I Didn’t Pick My Major, It Picked Me

I Didn’t Pick My Major, It Picked Me

And I'm so grateful it did.

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I've written a lot of articles about my college experience from roommates to failing out to graduating late to what my major used to be and what it actually is now. Despite this, I never really discussed how I got to be an English major. It's a story that has lasted most of my life. I never really intended to be an English major, but it called to me. And I listened.

Childhood

At age 3, I almost made my mother faint by reading the word "zoom" off of a billboard with no assistance needed from her. That's basically when my parents knew reading would be the biggest part of my life. My parents were not big readers, unless you count the Bible my father had on his bedside table. My mother has always been my biggest support system when it came to my love of reading. She would buy me books whenever she could and eventually started her own journey in avid reading because of me. The importance of reading started the day my parents adopted me.

My parents would read me a book every night without fail because they believed it would make me more intelligent. However, they only read me old nursery rhymes and the Berenstain Bears. Besides my child level books, we didn't have many other books in the house. My father didn't have the attention span to read anything but the Bible and my mom was too busy taking care of me. I was then formally taught how to read in my Catholic school. When I came home one night and read perfectly out of a textbook, my mother cried tears of joy. From that day, she began to take me to a library nearby where she and I would stay and look at books for hours.

After my classmates and I were taught how to read, we were then allowed to go to our school library. The library was separated into two sections: one for the elementary school children and one for the middle schoolers. We had reading quizzes we had to take, and the school realized that I was far above the rest of my peers and allowed me to read in the other section. Something I had prided myself on in elementary school was being allowed to read books in the "big kid section" years before anyone else my age. The thing that piqued my interest in reading the most were the Lemony Snicket's Series of Unfortunate Events books. These were the books that made me want to write and read more. These were dark enough to please my soul and much more of a challenge for me to read, which I enjoyed. Needless to say, a lot of my friends quickly became concerned about me once they realized what I enjoyed reading.

I was "that book kid" growing up. You know the one; always had a book in their hands and would read any chance they'd get. I was also that kid that would volunteer to read. In first grade, a small group of us were brought outside to read, as it was a nice day. It was a book about insects and everyone wanted to read as the butterfly. I remember just wanted to read. I quietly raised my hand and told my teacher "if it's alright, I don't really care what character I get. I'd just like to read." My teacher was so impressed with this request that she let me have first pick at any character. I was the best butterfly.

Getting Older

As I got older, I was officially diagnosed with chronic depression and generalized anxiety. I had poor mental health my whole life but it wasn't recognized until I was in high school. Once in high school, I proceeded to start writing my own stories. Most of them were short and primitive with such dark themes that it worried my religious parents. Most were about my life and trying to personify my depression while others were dark twists on fantasy creatures like mermaids.

My early writing was terrible. Because of my mental illnesses now allowing me to focus, I would jump from one subject to the next in my stories and nothing ever made sense. For obvious reasons, this infuriated me and resulted in never finishing a single story I have ever written. This annoying habit has even followed me into academic papers where I will have to go back into my paper and add a paragraph or two. With time and patience, I've learned how to work my habit so it no longer hinders me.

Once I started college, I tried to give up my love of reading and writing. I was told by many people in my life that pursuing a degree in something like that would only serve to be a waste of money and time. I started as a computer science major, which ultimately made me more depressed. I didn't go to a single class for months because my interest in my major wasn't there. By the end of summer semester 2016, I was kicked out of college for my awful GPA. During those two semesters I was kicked out, I had absolutely no responsibility or job. I had a lot of time to look inside myself and analyze what went wrong and what I can change to be better.

The Realization

In the summer of 2017, I lived in Michigan for 3 months to work before returning to college in the fall. While in Michigan, I picked my passion of reading up again with newfound friends who shared my love. The book that really brought me back was Mr. Mercedes by Stephen King. I ate that book up within a week and regained that feeling of the real world melt from around me and the book come to life in my head. I decided to be selfish and change my major, even if it didn't make as much money as my previous major.

There isn't a second I regret switching majors. I regained a piece of who I am and became happier to go to class. Being happier in my major and life overall gave me the confidence to apply to write for the Odyssey here at Kennesaw State, which I have now been writing for since September of 2017. I began to actively try to expand my vocabulary in my free time and gained an amazing support system. My mother expresses how proud she is of me each and every day. My boyfriend expresses his interest in my major by learning along with me and always boosting my confidence when I allow him to read what I've written.

I'd be lying if I said I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my major. Initially, it was to teach but now I'm minoring in professional writing so I could take many different paths. However, the courses for my major interest me and make me excited for the future. My support system continues to push me on difficult days when I need it most as well. All of these things are the only proof I need to know that I am on the right track for my life and future.

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I'm A Woman And You Can't Convince Me Breastfeeding In Public Is OK In 2019

Sorry, not sorry.

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Lately, I have seen so many people going off on social media about how people shouldn't be upset with mothers breastfeeding in public. You know what? I disagree.

There's a huge difference between being modest while breastfeeding and just being straight up careless, trashy and disrespectful to those around you. Why don't you try popping out a boob without a baby attached to it and see how long it takes for you to get arrested for public indecency? Strange how that works, right?

So many people talking about it bring up the point of how we shouldn't "sexualize" breastfeeding and seeing a woman's breasts while doing so. Actually, all of these people are missing the point. It's not sexual, it's just purely immodest and disrespectful.

If you see a girl in a shirt cut too low, you call her a slut. If you see a celebrity post a nude photo, you call them immodest and a terrible role model. What makes you think that pulling out a breast in the middle of public is different, regardless of what you're doing with it?

If I'm eating in a restaurant, I would be disgusted if the person at the table next to me had their bare feet out while they were eating. It's just not appropriate. Neither is pulling out your breast for the entire general public to see.

Nobody asked you to put a blanket over your kid's head to feed them. Nobody asked you to go feed them in a dirty bathroom. But you don't need to basically be topless to feed your kid. Growing up, I watched my mom feed my younger siblings in public. She never shied away from it, but the way she did it was always tasteful and never drew attention. She would cover herself up while doing it. She would make sure that nothing inappropriate could be seen. She was lowkey about it.

Mindblowing, right? Wait, you can actually breastfeed in public and not have to show everyone what you're doing? What a revolutionary idea!

There is nothing wrong with feeding your baby. It's something you need to do, it's a part of life. But there is definitely something wrong with thinking it's fine to expose yourself to the entire world while doing it. Nobody wants to see it. Nobody cares if you're feeding your kid. Nobody cares if you're trying to make some sort of weird "feminist" statement by showing them your boobs.

Cover up. Be modest. Be mindful. Be respectful. Don't want to see my boobs? Good, I don't want to see yours either. Hard to believe, I know.

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Here's What Happens When All Of Your Friends Have Babies

All of my friends back home are married with children. No, really, they are.

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Over the past few months, three of my friends have shared their pregnancy news with me, and I couldn't be more thrilled. Baby news always stirs up a range of emotions for me. I'm excited and crying happy tears (no joke, I started to cry when my best friend told me and showed me her ultrasound).

Being "Auntie Meg" brings me such great joy. You see, I absolutely adore children, especially my friend's kiddos. They can easily brighten up my day with their giggles, love you, and their goodbye kisses & waves. I absolutely love getting to be "Auntie Meg"; it could potentially be my favorite role to fill.

I don't think I've ever loved human beings more than I love these babies. These are kiddos I would do almost anything for; they truly have my whole heart and I couldn't be more thankful for each and every one of them. I've loved getting to watch my friends grow into incredible parents.

I love getting to be one of the biggest cheerleaders for my friends and their kids. Listen, I can't wait for the day when they are older and are asking to come over more and spend time doing fun things with auntie Meg. I can't wait to watch them grow and I can't wait to be able to come alongside them and be a shoulder to cry on and one of the loudest voices cheering them on (Next to mom and dad, of course).

While there is just so much good about your friends growing up and having children of their own, if you are not careful, it can also fuel a person's self-doubt.

It can bring up questions like, "am I good enough?", "what is wrong with me?", "why am I not where they are at?" I would be lying if I said that I have never thought or felt these things, but here's the thing: you are good enough, there is absolutely nothing wrong with you, and their path is not your path; you will get there when you get there.

Those things are so important to remember in times when you begin to doubt yourself or your worth.

Believe me, you are good enough, there is nothing wrong with you, and that is not the path you need to be on at the moment. This is a great time for you to focus on you and the things you want out of life. What are your goals? What is on your bucket list? Just because you don't have the things your friends have, doesn't make your life any less fulfilled than theirs is. Your life is just as wonderful and fulfilling as theirs is, just in different ways.

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