Introducing myself draws upon some of the most rudimentary mental barriers I’ve regularly encountered throughout my life. Do I act humble? Do I come off as aggressive? Do I want people to know me, or a version of myself that I’d much rather be associated with? Today, I’ll choose truthfulness and honesty – be prepared for casual dialogue.
Where the hell do I even start? I guess we can approach this in a traditional, chronological order.
I’m from an incredibly small farm town located in Central Pennsylvania called Jersey Shore. No, there isn’t a beach anywhere nearby. No, I didn’t make the name up for humor. That’s really the name of my hometown, and it’s home to just under 4,000 people with a light mix of very limited perspectives and personalities.
My siblings and I grew up in a lower-middle class household, and it wasn’t until I was about 13 years old that my parents – divorced six years by that time – had come into financial situations that could provide me with my own clothes, shoes and necessities, rather than the usual hand-me-downs I got from my older brother, Cody.
This was a nominally small town; one of those places where there isn’t much to do except to get into some trouble with your buddies (we did plenty of that). We thought being cool was all that mattered, and there wasn’t much discussion about the world around us and how we fit into that.
For much of the time, it was my version of hell. I hadn’t always seen myself as an intellectual, but I knew that, if I stayed, I’d be a blue-collar labor business owner at best and a washed-up local legend with no serious prospects in life at worst.
My siblings and I were all first-generation college students who attended Penn State University. My mom was a full-time employee at the school which afforded us half off on tuition. If you’re wondering how we paid for the rest of it, that was all thanks to an insincere, mean old lady named Sallie Mae. She calls me all the time asking for money.
Like so many before me – and long after me I’m sure – I struggled with the “partying” aspect of college, albeit probably much more so than the average bear (or Nittany Lion).
Following my first two years of college, I was on probation from the university due to my academic standing, as well as some of the, let’s call them “incidents,” that partying had led me to.
The Summer following my rather unsuccessful sophomore year led me back to my hometown, where I bounced around various labor jobs, culminating in an excruciatingly difficult job as a roofer. And guess what? I’m terrified of heights.
That was the position I found myself in when, by either a stroke of luck or an act of God, I was granted the opportunity to return to school again – I had forgotten to mention this was my second separation from the university.
To make a long story short, I was able to return to campus under several conditions. I hated being on the roof, and more so, I hated the idea of being just another “townie.” Townie is the term we used to describe somebody with very little aspirations, even less education, and the least amount of desire to change the world or make any type of difference at all – that was the epitome of everything I had feared becoming.
I finished my undergraduate degree with a final GPA of 3.22, having made the dean’s list in each of my five final semesters. I got straight A’s in my junior and senior years, and I think that finally helped me to believe in myself and the capabilities I must’ve been stifling for so many years.
Upon graduation, my girlfriend at the time – whom I now proudly call my wife – and I decided to uproot our entire existence and move to Phoenix on a whim. It was 122 degrees the day we stepped off the plane, and 98 degrees in our apartment when we finally arrived.
I found an entry-level sales position where I had a fair amount of financial success, however, I still had a yearning inside of me to become something more – something I felt was worthwhile and that I could be proud of.
I saved up enough money to put together a beautiful wedding this past September, and my wife and I agreed that it was finally my time to start investing in myself and who I want to be for the rest of my life.
I’d always had an affinity for writing, but when you grow up in a town where the most successful people you know are a divorce lawyer and a garbage company owner, you tend to struggle to have even a remote idea about the possible career opportunities that are open to somebody who is at least willing to try. I realized that I had a voice
So, here I am, writing to you as an aspiring journalist and column writer. I was blessed throughout this journey to have the opportunity to take a leap of faith that required me to leave a six-figure job and go back to school.
It was probably one of the most humbling decisions and experiences that I’ve gone through in my entire life, but I can certainly say that I’ve never been more grateful for an
opportunity than when I finally got that email from the Cronkite school saying “Congratulations, we’ll absolutely take your money, see you in class,” or something to that effect.
