Everything happens for a reason
I didn’t always want to be a journalist. As a child I had big dreams—at the age of five I can remember telling my sweet, old Nona that I wanted to be a judge, which she remembered and reminded me of every time I saw her until she passed away. As a young adult I no longer wanted to be a judge though, those were a child’s dreams instilled by too much Judge Judy after school.
I found it extremely difficult to find a path, and so I tried a little bit of everything. I worked retail, in call centres, in factories, in bars, and even as a roofer. I asked everyone that I knew how they chose their path and why. However, one trip to Mexico decided my fate—or did it? While everyone around me took full advantage of the all-inclusive services and open bars, I was busy writing exams and scuba diving to complete my first few scuba diving certifications. I finally decided my career; I would be a scuba diving instructor.
My stepfather owns apartment buildings on an island in Honduras, so a place to stay was taken care of. He helped me make all the arrangements; a place to stay, a job, the amount of money I would need, and the plane ticket.
I worked the night shift in a factory while saving up for my next big adventure. I was allowed to read as long as I did not have too much work to do so I found myself ripping through 80 to 100 pages per night. I avidly tore through the pages of books by Hunter S. Thompson, Lester Bangs, Matt Taibbi, Tom Wolfe, and many other authors and journalists.
Everything changed when I had to leave work to go to the ER one night. I had been feeling faint, out of breath, and had a sharp pain in my chest. I was taken care of right away, and soon learned that I suffered from a pneumomediastinum—a pin-prick hole in the lung that traps air in the chest cavity. It was very rare, but nothing to worry about. My lung would heal itself within six weeks, but until then I was not allowed to fly because the change in pressure could cause my lung to collapse. However, my flight was booked and I was supposed to be heading down south in four weeks. When the doctor learned of my plans to fly down south he was very apologetic and told me I had to cancel the trip, and speak to a respirologist before daring to scuba dive again.
I had a few brief moments of anger, but I knew it was not anyone’s fault and there was nothing that could have prevented it. I returned to the factory, and returned to my books. I began reading with a driven passion, analyzing and questioning everything. I was hooked by gonzo journalism, but extended my roots far beyond.
I began telling myself that everything happens for a reason, and the course of events led me to believe that journalism would be my next calling. Since I had been out of high school for six years already, I took grade 12 English again to prepare myself. I also began to involve myself in local politics, which connected me with a lot of people that had amazing stories to share.
I was introduced to the former editor-in-chief of the Guelph Tribune, Chris Clarke, at a local mayoral debate. We spoke about the industry and Chris told me with a smile that I didn’t want to be a journalist. So I smiled back and told him there was no way to divert me or my ambition, which he praised.
I applied for college over the summer as I continued to write, and was extremely enthusiastic when I got my acceptance letters. I started college in the fall and began writing as many articles as I could handle with my course load. As of now, I continue to write as much as I can handle. I remain ambitious, I never turn down a good opportunity, and I seize each moment. Because, as they say, everything happens for a reason.