By Moss Geren, Writing Specialist
September 3rd, 2024

             

               I’m not sure how old I was when someone first asked me: “What do you want to do with your life?” Over the years, I would have told you I wanted to be a soccer player, a singer, or a cat —there was a stint where I only wore a black cat costume as a kid. People ask that question more insistently when you turn eighteen. I wasn’t sure what to answer fresh out of high school, and this was a deep well of anxiety for me at the time. How could I be expected to know what I wanted to do with my whole life? I wasn’t even the same person I was a few years ago; I’d quit soccer after an ankle injury, determined singing was a hobby, and started dressing up as a black cat exclusively in October.

When I drove my hand-me-down white truck to Daytona State College for the first time, I couldn’t tell you what I was going to do other than “college.” I’d always done well in school, so it wouldn’t hurt to get a little more of that in while I thought on the matter. The only problem was that they ask you what you want to do in college as well, only this time in the form of choosing a major.

Now, I could tell what I didn’t want to do. I knew I didn’t want to go into the military like my parents had; I didn’t want to be a doctor, engineer, IT specialist or anything that I saw listed as options for study. They were all exciting passions for someone else, but I could only imagine myself as miserable if I lived other people’s dreams. Creative types often feel smothered when faced with what we see as repetitive work; it felt stagnant and frustrating. I wanted to do something whimsical, like working at a graveyard giving ghost tours or making props for fantasy movies—something that held surprises and stories. I wasn’t sure how to get in on that, though, and they didn’t teach either subject at the college down the road.

One technique I was given for deciding my career was tracking what I did almost every day. That would reveal my passion. Yet I didn’t think I could easily get a career in watching movies about monsters and dragons. So, I didn’t choose a major right away.

However, when I was signing up for classes and such, DSC’s Quanta Honors sent me an email inviting me to meet the professors and learn more about their program. I thought: “Might as well go to the meeting and see what it’s about. It sounds fancy. I want to be a fancy little lad.” It ended up being a great experience where I learned a great deal about the world and life in general; I especially enjoyed Psychology and World Religions, as they focused on understanding how people and their minds worked.

Joining an honors program at a college was a decent start to the question: “What are you going to do with your life?” I thought on my situation while I took those beginning college classes. I remembered that my middle school art teacher had designed logos for a time, and there seemed to be money in that. Imagine! I could do something creative, and there would always be a need for new branding in our economy. I didn’t see my name being taught in art classes alongside Michelangelo, but working with color and design would be more enjoyable for my personality. I tentatively answered that “art” was what I wanted to do when more adult-like adults asked me about my plans.

An acquaintance of my dad told me, “Well, you better get used to waiting tables.” I was this anxious new adult back then with little self-esteem and no “passion,” so that dismissal crushed me. I was not feeling confident about my life choices. I thought, “Maybe I should stop being impractical and choose something less laughable.” Who was I to think I could ever be good enough to “make it” in creative work?

As I drew closer to the end of my two-year degree, it seemed grim that I still hadn’t chosen a major. Saying I was concerned was an understatement. I wasn’t going to quit in the middle of a degree, but I had half a mind to quit college after I finished my A.A. because the stress was overwhelming me. If I couldn’t even choose something useful to study, I could go be practical and work for a while. People wouldn’t see me as a disappointment then. Maybe I’d become a flight attendant! If I didn’t get motion sickness so often… But they sold medicine for that! Well, I’ll give you the spoiler that I did not end up working on planes. I had my whole life ahead of me, and I felt I was squandering it when I was only nineteen or twenty. It’s ridiculous looking back at it.

Around this time, I was sitting in one of my Quanta Honors classes and talking about how I had no idea what I wanted to do. Professor Benjamin Graydon, who we just call Ben in class, heard me. Then, he said something that I’m convinced altered the course of my life—or at the very least sped things along.

Ben asked me something along the lines of, “Have you ever thought about writing books? You’re a great writer.” I insisted I didn’t have the skill or creativity. I could never create masterpieces like my favorite authors had. Then, he asked:

“Well, have you tried?”

That really made me stop and think. People had told me I was great at writing in my younger school years. I even won an award for a short story I wrote in English class, but I never spent much time creating stories instead of consuming them. I usually thought of essays when I thought about writing, and I dreaded writing papers on topics I wasn’t interested in. I had never even given myself a chance to write creatively. Our society often shuts down creative careers before they start. And I had brought myself down, just like that acquaintance who discouraged me from being interested in the arts.

I’d never tried.

So, I started writing my first manuscript that night. During the next few weeks, I spent hours writing where I found time. It was a horrible book about vampires that will never see the light of day, but that didn’t matter. I enjoyed it. I wanted to do it, even if it didn’t come to anything. And if I enjoyed doing something almost every day, it must be that elusive feeling called “passion.” I slapped “English” on my A.A. degree because I had already done all the required classes, and I suddenly had a plan for what to do next. I felt intense relief as I set a course for my future with plottable steps to follow.

I went to UCF and earned a Bachelor of Arts in English with a focus in creative writing. I learned in my studies that if you’re a writer, you have two jobs. You write, and you support yourself financially with something else. As long as you’re okay with that, it’s doable.

When I thought about what I wanted that second job to be, I thought about the Writing Center. I had been encouraged to work there when I was getting my A.A., but I hadn’t applied. Like I said, I was self-conscious and anxious at that time. However, the Writing Center had stuck in my mind quietly but insistently throughout my second degree.

And that’s how I came to the Daytona State College Writing Center. I can help people with their writing while surrounding myself with people of similar interests. I write my own stories when I get home and dream about being an author while I build my career in writing itself.

I guess my point is that trying out new hobbies, ones you don’t think you’re smart enough, creative enough, or talented enough to do, can lead to finding a new passion. If you want it to happen, if you put in the time and effort, wonderful things can come your way! I didn’t know what I wanted to do fresh out of high school, but I didn’t need to. Because I know now. I’ll keep wanting different things as I age, and that’s okay, too. After my dad retired from the army, he became a fisherman at 50-something years old, so I think we all kind of learn as we go along. It’s never too late to find a new dream, like discovering you want to be an author a few years into college. I don’t think “soccer player” or “cat” are still in the cards for my future, but I won’t dismiss the endless possibilities that wait just around the bend of space and time. Dreams are shy until you get to know them, but they make the most delightful friends.