It's Been A While

Good evening everyone,

I know that it has been a while since I have posted anything. I do apologize for that. Recently I have been in my head when it comes to school and life. I started therapy and it really had me thinking and evaluating where I am and where I am going in life. I have always bounced around with a central idea of writing and publishing, but there were other career adventures along the way. I wanted to give you all a more in depth look at the development of me.

I started reading when I was very young. My family jokes that I was reading and talking before I could walk. I quickly outgrew books meant for my age, and by the time I reached school, I was reading at least a grade above me. I remember in first grade reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea written by Jules Verne. I was starting to get to a point in my reading where I wanted to finish a book without my parents help. So I was given special permission to write in one of my books. It was my Webster's Dictionary. I was allowed to highlight the words I looked up. My parents thought process was that if I highlighted it, I would retain it better. I had three colors. Yellow, pink, and blue. The first time I had to look up a word, I would use yellow. If I had to look it up again, I would use pink. It was rare that I had to look a word up a third time, but if I did, I would highlight it once more in blue. So as I sat and read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea any time I couldn't figure out a word based on context clues, I would look it up. I fell in love with reading and what words could do at that point. I decided I wanted to start writing and telling the stories.

I fell in love with reading and started reading everything I could get my hands on. My dad stumbled across the first Harry Potter book in an airport. He bought it, curious, read it, and knew that I would love it. When he came home, he told me it was mine, and that I could read it whenever I wanted. I put it beneath another book I was about to read. Once I picked it up, I couldn't put it down. I loved the world, and wanted more. It was about 1999 or 2000 when I discovered Harry Potter thanks to my father. The first two books were already out. I went to the midnight release of every other book as it was released at Books-a-Million, and as the movies started coming out, I was allowed to go to the midnight release of those as well. This was considered a special treat because I also got to miss school the following day. The story and the world became special.

After I started school, and was determined to be perfect at all that was thrown at me. I stopped reading for fun as much. I wanted to perfect my handwriting, and memorize two plus two. I know, a ridiculous amount of pressure for an elementary school kid, but hey, what can I say? I just wanted perfection.

In about second grade, as I realized how much I love animals, I decided (and if we were being honest, I was being told) that writing wasn't a career that I could make profitable. I needed a stable career. Something that I could survive off of and make sure that I was always going to have money. I wanted to become a veterinarian. All of this didn't help for my need to be perfect. I put even more pressure on myself to do better. I was told that I would need perfect grades and to be perfect in math if I wanted to be a vet. My family was also very encouraging of this because they saw it as a career that could make me a lot of money.

I don't know if that was necessarily the best thing to teach a young child, but hey, that is just life. My parents talked with my elementary school, and placed me in their version of honors classes. I had to work even harder. Just one little year later, in third grade, I found my love of writing all over again. As well as reading.

Let me set the scene for you...

First, the teacher. My art teacher was one of the best teachers I ever had. He would have "substitute" teachers, which was just him in disguise. He would dress up as dead artists and teach us about their style, and the time the lived in. He never wanted to discourage a future artist. So instead, he never marked anyone down as long as they tried. He never accepted the phrases "I can't draw", or "My drawing's are bad". If you tried, and you gave it your all, you received an A. He always said that he started off in our shoes, and that the only reason he kept drawing and painting is because he was encouraged, even when his art was atrocious and that he was able to perfect something he loved. He had the biggest heart for encouraging kids in the arts. He was wacky and fun and everyone loved him.

Next, the scene. Our school had one of the best libraries I think I have ever seen in a school. The library was about the size of ten classrooms, if not bigger. I remember standing in it, and being excited at the amount of books I had access to. In the center was a place to sit. There was two steps that led down to it, and they had beanbag chairs scattered about for kids to sit. Kids would lay on the steps, or sit in the center on beanbags and read. On the top between some of the rows were tables with chairs, and beanbags were scattered throughout. They wanted the library to feel warm and welcoming. I truly believed my school understood the importance of the arts, and reading.

Now, the best part. My art teacher would take all the third graders every year into the library and have us fill the center and line up among the steps. He would pick a different book or poem every year and read to the students. For my year, he read The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe. I was hooked onto his every word. He wanted to ensure the students understood what was going on, and after every stanza, he would pause and tell us what it meant. He was also dressed up as Poe, and was telling us what "he" meant by certain things. Once more, I realized I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to draw in a reader and have them hang on to every word I wrote. I wanted them to feel as entranced as I did.

When I went home though, those dreams were once more pushed down. I was told that it wasn't stable, and I should stick with a stable career. To be fair, they said there is nothing wrong with writing on the side for fun, but that it wasn't something to pursue as my only career. I was crushed, but I was young and took my family's word as law. I mean they were adults who were functioning in this world, so they had to know best. Right?

Clearly, now I have found out that isn't the case, but it took me many years to figure that out. Fast forward to high school. I had been in advance classes since first grade. I was taking high school classes in eighth grade, and I had started taking college classes in high school. You had to be ahead to be a vet. I was pushing myself to the brink of breaking. The only release I had was two classes. I had managed to convince my family that creative writing and drama would make excellent choices for my electives because they showed I could be studious and creative. It was fantastic. I had those two classes every day to look forward to, and I did just that. My Junior year, I had entered a few poetry contests in my creative writing class, and they were chosen to be published in the books. It was a rush. I was once more regenerated. I once more wanted nothing more than to be a writer. But I was quickly reminded that it wasn't a stable career. Unless I had some big break through, I wouldn't make it in the industry and I would always be struggling and broke.

When I graduated high school, I started college and quickly was too burnt out from school, and striving for perfection. I dropped out. I was done. I didn't want any more. I was also able to use the fact that the college hadn't been fully honest. They had originally said since I was an online student, I could move and it wouldn't affect my ability to be in the class. That turned out to not be 100% true. I used that as a perfect excuse, and rather than fighting it, I dropped out.

At this point I was defeated. I was done. I didn't feel like school or writing would ever be a part of my life. I turned my back on reading, writing, and education. I found a job, and just figured that is what I was supposed to do. I got married to the love of my life, who had been with me through some severe lows, and some amazing highs. (We actually met our freshman year of high school and started dating then.)

(I am the one wearing sunglasses and she has the necklace on.)

We have been through so much together. Back in 2018, she decided to go back to college at Full Sail. One day, after listening to her, and being proud of all she had accomplished and was still learning and accomplishing, I had the strong urge to see what else the school offered in ways of degrees. Listening to how this school was helping her find a love for her passion all over again, and was making her education fun, while it was still difficult spoke to me.

And then, it happened. I stumbled across the fact that I could get my BFA in Creative Writing for Entertainment. I realized my dream wasn't out of my grasp. When I spoke to the admissions office, they asked why I wanted to take this course. They wanted to know what drew me to writing. I told them I had always had a dream of seeing my books on Books-a-Million shelves. I had a strong connection with that book store, and it would be one of the greatest feelings I ever could imagine to write something worth enough to make it on their shelves. They encouraged me, got me signed up, and later in on 2018 I started.

This journey hasn't been easy and many classes I struggled in. Several times I questioned my sanity for signing up and joining school again. I kept remembering how burnt out I had gotten back when I graduated from high school. I would have to remind myself that I had graduated in 2012. It had been six years. Plenty of time to recoup. But the exhaustion started to hit me all over again. I was ready to just curl up and quit.

But my loving wife wouldn't let me. She helped push and encourage me along the way. She was my biggest cheerleader. She let me panic, and would let me cry. She even let me procrastinate some in classes. But she never let me reach a point where I wasn't going to be able to recover. She reminds me every day that it is worth all of the hard work.

Then something else happened, just a few months ago. I had my first of two game writing classes. Now, what I am about to same may make a lot of the gamers out there a bit upset, but know that I say this with love. I NEVER wanted to be a game writer. I enjoyed playing games, but wanted nothing to do with writing for them. That is, until I had the first class. I fell in love with writing for games. I kept the program and made a few little extra games, just to practice. I am currently in my second writing class, which will end tomorrow, and I am beyond sad. I would love to spend the rest of my school career in this class. I am learning so much. It is one of the hardest styles of writing I've had to learn so far, and one of the most time consuming, but I just can't get enough of it.

Is my life where I thought it would be? No. Is my life headed a direction I thought it would? Again, no. Am I happy with where I am at now? Yes. Am I happy with where my life is taking me? Absolutely! Is that to say that I haven't struggled? No. I have struggled, and have a lot of trauma from my past to unpack and deal with. The therapist is there for help with that. But, I am finally taking control of my life, and I am in leading the way. I broke free of all the restrictions placed upon me, and I am doing what is best for me and my family. It isn't easy. Breaking the mold can be one of the hardest things to do.

I want to let you in on a little secret. You aren't alone. Most of us Millennials, and generations beneath us are having to break molds. We are having to break toxic traditions. Our elders may not have realized that they were placing upon us negative traits and behaviors, but we do. And we are all working, in our own way, to break them. We are all trying to better ourselves, our future, and the younger generations futures. We can do this. You are not alone. Please, if you ever feel you need to reach out to someone, reach out to me. I have many ways of you to contact me on my website. Use which ever one feels the most natural. But please, take this condensed version of my life, as me lending a helping hand. I am here for you.