Let me tell you a story. It’s one about a lot of things, theatre, writing, wine, but it is one in which, at the heart of it, is a story about exploration and exploring yourself. And how I ran from it.
In 2015, I was in my sophomore year of high school. I was having trouble deciding what to go to college for. For some reason, this incoming decision was life-or-death. I saw this as the decision that would shape the rest of my life, the one that would chart a career for me and set my future on one path. How would anyone not become overwhelmed at such a premise?
Of course, being only sixteen years old and in my second year of high school, I had yet to take any AP classes or SAT/ACT exams. So, deciding on major is a decision far removed from myself. However, at sixteen, it was all I could think about. With everything coming up, how could I explore myself? Indeed, I would be up at night staring at the ceiling trying to find the one major that I would enjoy not only studying but pursuing for the rest of my life.
During sophomore year, I found microbiology fascinating. However, my worldview was especially limited—even now I’m sure it’s not that much more expanded—and I couldn’t see what careers existed for this major.
The Lecture that Changed Me
In 2015, I was fortunate enough to go to a decent high school which hosted a career fair of sorts. This fair brought in numerous individuals in various fields: computer science, forensics (how fascinating!), and, to my surprise, biology. I immediately signed up for this lecture and, the day of, was ushered into a large lecture hall that I had never been to. A projector screen was pulled down, the lights were dimmed, and, in the center of the room, a short woman was standing, illuminated by the light of the projector itself.
Going in, I thought this was going to be an informative lecture. And I was right, though it was not in the way I had hoped. The woman’s lecture was well-planned. She was very enthusiastic about her career, something I can’t say for many others I have met since then. But she only talked about her involvement in a lab. This was something I couldn’t fathom. Something I didn’t want to fathom. I could not, for the life of me, envision myself working day-in and day-out inside of a laboratory. That sounded like my purgatory. I realized that I needed something with variation. And so, from that moment, biology’s doors had been shuttered closed.
What did that mean for me? Where could I go from there? My one lead to a possible career was now behind me. Of course, looking back, I realize that not every biologist works in a lab.
I was distraught: the major I, academically, found interesting was suddenly distasteful, and my hobby wasn’t a potential career.
(In fact, one time in senior year of college, they had us ironically do a career quiz, where it aggregates your interests and spits out what career you should go into and what major is required. Of course, this was far after anyone’s major had been decided, and my top suggestion, “Aquarium Curator,” was a career I couldn’t pursue, at least not without going back to college to study marine biology.)
Now, in my sophomore year of high school, I was getting very involved in my school’s theatre program. I had already been in their production of In the Heights (say what you will about a 92% White high school putting on this show, at least I don’t include it on any résumé), and was getting ready to audition for our production of Tarzan.
While I had considered following acting as a profession, my doubts about the consistency of work and minimal pay had gotten the better of me. I was distraught: the major I, academically, found interesting was suddenly distasteful, and my hobby wasn’t a potential career. Acting just wasn’t an option for someone like me, who had only recently started enjoying the craft. I didn’t know what to do.
Why I Stopped Exploring Myself
When I say that decisions don’t come naturally to me, I mean it. When making any decision, I often spend hours just sitting, reading different opinions, and querying my friends (definitely to a fault) about which one to choose. As this was a major decision, I didn’t know what to do. The one thing I could look to do was ask my two closest friends for help.
In high school, my friends and I had a local “hang-out” spot. I like to envision it as a Riverdale-esque diner, with its broody lights and neon signs. We sit in a corner, hunched over our black coffees as we discuss the recent mystery surrounding our small town. Then, someone enters the door and we all turn to look: it’s our friend who we haven’t seen for four years suddenly back. They’re different. Mystery ensues.
“You should follow what you’re passionate about.”
But no, this was nothing more than an ordinary diner, no more distinct than any Waffle House or greasy spoon. It was here that we discussed our futures, where we shared milkshakes, where we complained about our homework. It is where our futures were set. Certainly, one afternoon in early 2015, mine was.
My friends were high school seniors—all my friends have usually been older than me. It wasn’t until after graduating that I made friends with people my age—and had already decided on their colleges and majors. One, an art major, and the other, someone studying psychology. My perfect match: art versus science. It was here in the diner, over a chocolate milkshake, that I aired my grievances to them. I tell them about my dilemma, how I liked biology, but I don’t like the path, and how I love theatre, but I know it’s not viable.
It is at this point that one of my friends, the other one nodding in agreement, gives me the single piece of advice that changed my life: “You should follow what you’re passionate about.”
One Focus: Theatre
Never had I thought about following my passion. Musical theatre had been my first love. Indeed, it was—and still is—the only music that I listen to. Was this my passion? Surely it was the only thing I thought about. I was going to see A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder that summer. I loved theatre.
But to call it my passion, when I had only just started studying it in high school? It is only looking back that I question my decision. But there, in the diner, over my saccharine shake, I decided that musical theatre was the major that I would go to college to study.
From 2015 until 2017, I thought of nothing more than how to get into musical theatre. Surprisingly, I didn’t study dance at all. “That will be something that I just try to ace in my audition,” I thought. There were no other options. Theatre was the only thing I thought about for two years.
I moved to Ohio in late 2015, and immediately begged my parents to move back in 2016 when I found that the theatre program in my new high school was lacking. To my surprise, they (begrudgingly) allowed me to move in with my grandparents who were still located in the same school district that I had left. I learned how to live on my own far earlier than many of my peers, although with some support from my grandparents. And still theatre was the only thing I thought about. I studied with many different voice teachers, just getting ready to do college auditions.
I had spent almost five years thinking about nothing other than theatre, but I could now only sit back and wait to see.
In 2017, I enrolled at Western Connecticut State University, and was one of the first classes there to spend all four years in the newly minted BFA program. The first two years of this program were utter bliss for me. Singing, acting, and dance training? Under professional, Tony Award-winning actors? How could I not enjoy it? I was studying an art form I thought only people who grew up in could pursue. I was blown away.
Rediscovery of Exploration
Indeed, I spent those first two years studying my passion, and was about to enjoy a third year delving deeper into the craft, both academically and in practice. I was beginning to make plans to move and audition in New York City. However, as we are all too familiar with, in March of 2020, the students at WCSU were all sent home in the wake of the developing COVID-19 pandemic. Suddenly, this art form that I had previously spent every day thinking about was gone.
I had spent almost five years thinking about nothing other than theatre, but I could now only sit back and wait to see. I was already someone not affiliated with the professional, non-collegiate theatre scene, and social media did not come naturally to me, so I had no idea what the scope of the field looked like anymore.
Additionally, the pandemic coupled with the racial and social unrest showed many foundational faults within the theatrical system that I had previously been unaware of.
Where Do I Go From Here?
Slowly, a souring taste for the craft formed in my mouth. I began to view the theatre more bitterly. I saw this business as an insurmountable force to which I would never have the opportunity of performing in it. Before the pandemic, I was making plans on moving to New York City. I would tackle the business with everything I had. I had spent the past six years thinking about nothing else but theatre. Now, it seemed sealed off to me.
So far, I’ve written a ten-minute play (that I still must edit), and I’m interested in writing even more plays.
Over the past year since my graduation in May, 2021, I have had many revelations. I dislike the business of acting so much that it initially turned me off from the profession. I’ve only just gotten back into putting myself “out there.” During the time in between, I’ve realized how much I enjoy analog technology over digital technology. I’ve rediscovered books, I’ve discovered writing. But most of all, I’ve realized that, while “following your passion” is important, it prevented me from exploring. I only focused on one thing for years: theatre. And, since graduation, that “thing” has only just started existing for me again.
However, I don’t reside in New York; I work in Boston, where the theatre scene is much smaller. Because of this, I’ve had the time—though, whether or not I’ve been “forced” to have the time is the real question—to explore myself, my hobbies, and my interests, even those unbeknownst to me.
Finally, Exploring Life
I enjoy writing. However, as evidenced by the infrequency and formal nature of these posts, I’m only just beginning as a writer. Non-academic writing doesn’t come naturally to me, mostly because narrative writing was not enforced throughout my educational career. I even bought a typewriter to write nearly distraction-free, as my computer is too connected to the internet, keeping me engaged and not writing. In fact, the first draft of this post was written on my typewriter. So far, I’ve written a ten-minute play (that I still must edit), and I’m interested in writing even more plays.
Of course, playwriting, and writing in general, is a business in and of itself, one in which I’m debating if I even want to enter. Perhaps I could write on the side, pursuing a career in something else and only publishing when I finish something.
Great websites like the New Play Exchange exist for smaller writers to publish their works without going through a publisher like Concord Theatricals. This gives me hope, that I can still follow other passions first and explore myself and my interests while writing on the side.
Discovering Myself
In the past year since graduation, I’ve been flip-flopping between many different interests. I’ve tried being a line cook (I quit after one day), I’ve read multiple self-help books, and tried to create videos for YouTube. I started this blog, although this will be the fourth post since October of 2021. I’ve tried writing plays. I’m exploring wine as a career, something I wouldn’t have thought of doing at sixteen. That includes taking the WSET’s (Wine and Spirits Education Trust), a class I didn’t know existed until last month. I’ve been an extra in a TV show. I’ve even had multiple auditions.
All of this is to say: I’ve been exploring.
This past year has shown me that I must explore myself, my interests, and the world around me.
In 2013, Amy Krouse Rosenthal tweeted, “Pay attention to what you pay attention to,” when describing how to decide what to do with your life. (I admittedly found her tweet through John Green’s The Anthropocene Reviewed). And that is exactly what I’m trying to do now. I’m trying to explore, so I can rediscover the things that I pay attention to. I’m exploring, for the first time in what feels like an eternity. And I’m happy to be doing it.