This morning, I was looking through an old journal of mine from 2003. I had just begun to discover my passion for writing and was already at work with my first "novel." I think I wrote about fifteen pages until I realized my idea was completely ridiculous and I myself, was not interested in the subject matter. Now I've got a story I'm actually excited about and looking forward to working on (and maybe even finishing) this summer. As I get ready to graduate tomorrow, I'm still not having doubts about every decision I made up until this point. I'm glad I switched my major a gazillion times. I can't imagine going into any other field and feeling satisfied. I enjoy creating characters and worlds filled with emotions far too much. I'm going to embrace the self-doubt and self-loathing that comes with being an aspiring writer. It's my dream. I am living my dream.
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