The Obligatory "What are you doing, why and what are you going to do with it?" post!

"...a person who wears himself out for money or honor or whatever else for someone else's sake, without its being his own passion, his own need, is always a fool."
-Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther

From the time I could say the word “doctor,” I knew that I had to become one. My favorite shows as a child were Rescue 911, Trauma Life in the ER, and anything that came on the discovery channel involving copious amounts of blood and guts. Lifesaving appealed to me; I was concerned with making a difference in the world, and I thought, what better way?

I was one of those children that planned their life and stuck to it, doing everything possible to attain my goals. My brain was given to science, or so I thought, and I, therefore, focused everything I did around it. I played with science kits, while my friends played with dolls; I nursed my own cuts and scrapes, while my friends ran to mom or dad, and, as mentioned previously, I watched graphic television shows, while my friends watched cartoons (not to say that I didn’t watch cartoons too, but, you get the point).

There was, however, something else I was given to—stories. Though my parents sometimes confused it with lying, it was clear that I was a story teller from the time I could speak in full sentences. My imagination flourished as a child (and, still!), and I derived immense pleasure from making up stories that entertained people. As I matured and my writing skills developed, this enjoyment of words and stories for sheer entertainment soon developed into my using them to figure out and cope with various situations that arose in my life. When my Grandfather died of lung cancer while I was in the 5^th grade, it secured my desire to become an oncologist that persisted into my first semester of college, but I was only able to cope with it using poetry—reading and writing it.

This conundrum, this battle between my left and right brain, if you will, persisted throughout my school career. In high school, I was that chemistry nerd who stayed after school twice a week to do special experiments to get lab experience; I was also president of my creative writing club. When I wrote these words for my final reflective paper in AP English my Senior year: “I am a politician, a poet, a philosopher, a lobbyist, an eccentric—a writer. I am unique. I am secure. I am myself, comfortable in my words, always,” I should have seen the impending college disaster (the best possible disaster, of course!) coming.

As planned since my early childhood, I came to Transy with my mind set on a Biochemistry major, in hopes of becoming a oncological researcher. But, I decided that I would break up my math and science heavy schedule with a small dose of my other passion—poetry. By the end of the semester, while I was doing great in my chemistry class, I found myself waking up on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, less than excited and trudging to class. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, though, when I had my poetry class, I woke up refreshed, ecstatic, brimming with passion. Immersed in language, I thrived. It was then that I realized the scariest thing I have ever realized—I belong to words, to literature, to English.

(This is the day I declared my English Major. Pointing at my Poetry book, of course! Also the day we rearranged our room, hints the mess.)

Changing my major meant changing my entire self-perception. It meant changing what I had planned for my life from the very beginning of it. It was by far the most troubling but exciting time in my entire life, but the most important thing was that I didn’t face it alone. I had numerous people who were there to encourage and facilitate my self-development, including my poetry professor and my academic advisor, who, through several chats, assured me that change was okay and that I could put my analytical mind to good use in the study of literature too.

(You know you're an English Major when you're this excited about getting books for your birthday!)

I have now picked up a second major (psychology) to appease my sciencey side, but the most important thing I learned from this experience was the value of a liberal arts education. If I had gone to a state school, some huge university, I would have been stuck in the college of science from the very beginning. Transy allowed me to explore my various passions and made the transition from one field of study to a completely different one easier than I could have ever imagined, and I am eternally grateful.

I love what I do now. I wake up every day, regardless of whether or not I had spent 7 hours the previous day reading in the library (such is the life of an English major!), looking forward to every class, looking forward to taking a different route to making a difference in the world. I now hope to pursue research in the field of literature or psychology and become a professor, but, I have learned to keep my life plans loose…so we’ll just have to see what happens!