When I went to Auburn, I started out as a journalism major. I loved to write. I loved to listen to people. I wanted so badly to work at a newspaper, with people running everywhere, women with pencils stuck behind their ears and holding up their messy buns, and bosses screaming, “We have to meet dead-line…where is that story?!” Sadly, for me, I never realized that dream.
I had a terrible teacher that taught one of my first journalism classes. He told me that I would never make it as a journalist, and that I wasn’t ruthless enough to cut it. Now I know that it would be incredibly hard for me to interview a family who had just lost their mother, or to cover a story like the Alabama tornadoes, but in now way did I ever think that I would be a terrible journalist.
In my naive college mind, I believed him. I changed my major from journalism to marketing and never looked back. I never really regretted it again until recently.
I guess with the job changes, and me not really being able to figure out what I actually want to do with my life, I’ve been able to revert back to the dream that I once had for myself; the one actual goal that I ever really set for myself; to work for The New York Times. I know this dream is pretty much out of reach for me now. I have no journalism experience, and all I know about is trucks and transportation, but they have magazines and papers for those too, right?
I’ve set another goal for myself; to get published in some way shape or form before I die. Good goal, no? I will do it.