When I was 20 years old, I was serving a family at my restaurant job. I mentioned I was a student, so they asked what I was studying. In my best customer service voice, I told them "journalism!". One person at the table sneered at me, and said that I'd "never get a job with that useless degree." Since then, every piece that I've published is done out of spite. However, I like to think that this has made me a better journalist. Nothing empowers me more than proving everyone who has doubted me wrong.
The first time my writing was read outside a classroom was when I was 12 years old. I wrote a story about moving from Calgary to the small town of Creston, B.C. It was published in the local newspaper, and at first, I was shy when people would tell me that they read it. After a while, I realized that I loved having my stories read.
Even though I didn't always know I wanted to be a journalist, the field has always called to me. Enrolling in the journalism program at Mount Royal University after an unsuccessful stint at Dalhousie University seemed like the most logical decision. Now, as a recent graduate of the program, I have zero regrets for that decision.
In the mountains is where I feel most at home, and I am inspired and recharged every time I step foot in the Rockies. I have called Calgary home for most of my life, but I yearn for the opportunity to live and work somewhere nestled deep in the mountains. I use skiing to keep my body healthy, and music to keep my mind sane.