In truth, I've never admired the simplicity of a small town. I feel claustrophobic, dampened down to fit within the constraints. For as long as I can remember, I've known I've wanted to write for a living, in any shape or form, as long as I got to express myself. Writing has been and always will be a way for me to expand out the borders of the town I reside in and somehow create a much larger and open space for my personality to develop.
I write this article just returning from my fourth visit of NYC and first visit of NYU: my dream school. There's nothing quite as freeing as finding out how much better life is when you find where you belong, and I believe I have done just that. My goal is to be accepted to New York University's Tisch School of the Arts for Screenwriting. The portfolio is daunting, the coursework is demanding, but I find myself wanting this more than anything else. Why? I love to write. I love the city. Collectively, I love the opportunities this city has for aspiring writers just like me.
I'll be emerging from one small town within the least diverse state in the country to the largest city in the U.S., where diversity is the core of the city's history and success. It's no surprise that I'm drawn to the liberal arts and the powerful activists movements that always have a place in NYC and NYU. Making my one small voice a part of something so much larger and more impactful—that's what life's all about, isn't it?
New York City is certainly the home of inspiration. A stroll through Central Park, a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, a tour of the East Village, where punk rock once thrived, a view of Times Square, which coincidentally feels like the epicenter of all human life. These are a few of the things within the grasp of NYU that will always keep me writing. There's never a drought of content flowing through the city, and the thought of this makes me feel invincible.
Perhaps it's naive of me to thrust myself in the center of it all with no past experience of a larger city environment. Perhaps it's dangerous to trust myself, a 5'0 girl who can barely push open doors, alone into the largest city in the country. Perhaps it's too reliant to invest all my money into one of the most expensive colleges with no certainty of a future. But I've never been one to follow the suggestions of others, or worry about my stature in relation to those around me, or be "realistic" when it comes to my aspirations. There's not one ounce of doubt in my body that I will move out of this city, this state, and create myself a better future.
With all this in mind, it crushes me to see people forfeit their dreams in the face of uncertainty. Whether you are scared to face it alone, nervous to drop everything and start anew, or worried about the prospects of a less reliable field, know that your gut is a usable right. You have lived long enough on this Earth to have the instincts worth listening to. Would you rather live an unhappy life with a stable, yet redundant job, or a happy life with uncertainty, yet the possibility of living a life full of your dreams? The question is harder once you dive below the surface. The fluctuating economy and high price of college are certainly aspects to consider. But when I find myself in times of questioning, I return to my favorite remind of why I love what I do.
A 1989 movie by the name of "Dead Poets Society" captures perfectly my reasoning behind my choices. The late and great Robin Williams plays John Keating, a teacher who admirably works to instill a respect for poetry and writing within his students. My favorite lines from this movie are a constant mantra within my head.
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"We don't read and write poetry because it's cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race, and the human race is filled with passion. Medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life—but poetry, beauty, romance, love! These are what we stay alive for. To quote Whitman, 'O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring; of the endless trains of the faithless...of cities filled with the foolish; what good amid these, O me, O life?' Answer. That you are here—that life exists, and identity; that the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse. That the powerful play goes on and you may contribute a verse.' What will your verse be?"
Every time I read over that passage, or re-watch one of my favorite movies, I'm stirred yet again by the ability the screenwriter has to eloquently capture why writing is so important to us writers, why such an ancient art form still controls humanity daily. Each and every person has once verse in the book of life, and whether you verse is substantial or not is up to you. What would you like to add the the world, Something worth reading, or nothing helpful at all?
After watching that monologue, my younger self was determined to make myself a path towards writing. There's something so pure in the way that unforced writing comes from everyone's souls in a genuine and brilliantly unique voice. There is nothing that has come to detour me away from my goals, not the constant, persistent, pleading from my mother, nor the questions of abilities from my peers, nor the face of financial troubles that have faced me despite my position with two jobs. I know I must make myself a place in the college I dream to attend, which will require more hard work and effort, but I'm not daunted by the task in the least. Wherever I end up, I know I will be writing. I know I will be making my own verse something worth writing about.
