Well, well, well, it looks like I’ve done it again.
I’ve changed my college major. Again. What’s that saying? Third time’s the charm, no?
I’m starting to think that I could make a career of studying at college. I’ve changed my mind enough. I’ll probably be here until I’m well into my thirties. I did my first flip-flop when I changed my minors in my Bachelor of Arts. I changed my minor from Spanish to writing studies. Not a big deal. I barely blinked at that decision.
It was a bit harder when I changed from a Bachelor of Arts to a Bachelor of Communication. That change had me looking at communication programmes around the country. I stumbled upon the same degree (with more majors and minors) offered at a college in Auckland. I applied. I got in.
At the start of this year I packed my bags and moved to Auckland with the dream of pursuing a degree in public relations. That decision was hard, too. It’s no secret that I struggled last semester. I was so close to running away with my tail between my legs. That is how unhappy I was. I told myself just one semester. One semester was all I had to get through before I chose what I would do.
Last semester took a lot of struggle and dedication. Not just to go to class, but to study, to do assignments and to generally get out of bed every day. I was riding that struggle bus. Every. Damn. Day. There was a brief flash of inspiration, but it still wasn’t enough. It made me want to know more about the career that I was studying for, but there was still a small part of me telling me that I was making a mistake.
Well, I did it. I survived the semester. I even survived the exams.
Grades have been released and I got A- and B+ in two classes that I thought I had completely bombed. All in all, I’m pretty pleased with myself.
I’m unsure how many of you know this, but I’ve wanted to be a journalist for forever. The first time I told someone that I wanted to be a journalist when I was ten or eleven years old. That was a decade ago. I told a lecturer of mine the same thing and he asked me why I was messing about with public relations when the college offered journalism as a major. I didn’t have a reply. I didn’t know why I wasn’t following my heart. Maybe I was just scared and convinced that it wouldn’t possibly live up to my childhood dreams.
I was casually dating a guy for ten months (or so) and he had a tattoo on his foot. It read: never try, never know. It was a matching tattoo had he and his brothers had gotten while they were in Thailand. That is a phrase that has stuck in my head. Never try, never know. I have my own tattoo-carpe diem-on my shoulder-blade. Why wasn’t I following my heart?
I had been reading books upon books on public relations and almost every single one felt the need to defend the profession. A book (author/s) felt that they had to constantly defend their lifestyle. I felt the same way about it. I had a total stranger call me a “spin doctor” (in a light-hearted manner), but it still stung. I met someone and they asked what I was studying. I replied with, “Please don’t judge me, but I major in public relations.”
Point is: I felt like I had to defend my degree and my life choices when I wasn’t qualified yet. I wasn’t proud of what I was studying. I was proud to say that I was studying linguistics or Spanish when I was at Waikato, but that wasn’t the case at Massey.
I am now majoring in journalism.
I’m still trying to work through some of the compulsory classes for my degree, but hopefully this change puts me on track. I already feel the smile spreading across my face when I say, “I’m majoring in journalism.” Something just feels right.
Third time’s the charm.