Who is she?

I was supposed to be knee deep in a murky river, snow-capped mountains in the background, taking water measurements or something admirable that bordered the line between a conservation initiative and Nobel-prize-winning research, but was actually my attempt at evading fluorescent lighting and a cubicle. Then I was supposed to be a Spanish translator, earning some lucrative salary I assured myself was waiting out there – ripe for the picking with a college degree and a dream – as I diligently read the Spanish version of One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Then I followed a friend into a journalism class.

The room was small, stuffy. Old newspapers were framed proudly on the walls and students clicked around on Macs like their life depended on it, laying out pages for the next issue while fact checking the previous nights’ football game scores. I was intrigued. Questions were encouraged. Having an opinion was respected. I was in love.

When I pitched my own travel section, ‘Brownwood on a Budget,’ and it got the green light, I was sold. The college hadn’t had a travel section in the newspaper before and I was eager to be the next Samantha Brown and make the New York Times Frugal Travel section columnist proud.

Spoiler alert: If you want to get the attention of 19-year-old college students, show them what they can do for fun in a small town that’s not a Friday night bonfire. (Although, those have their place too.) Students were stopping me to say they had gone and done what I had written about. They had no idea there was a year-round Christmas decor store at the corner of Third and Oak Avenue – or that there was a 24-hour donut shop within walking distance from campus or that the best French Onion soup in town was being served from a renovated rail car 5 miles down a small back road. “You’re the best writer ever,” they said.

Okay fine, they didn’t go that far. But the column was a hit. And I was hooked. I transferred to the University of Texas J-School and the rest is history. Or rather, the rest is the start of my story. Which eventually leads me here. Where you are. Reading this page with what I can only imagine is a perfectly concocted mix of patience, prayer, and silent rage.

I promise on a four-shots-of-espresso iced Americano from La Colombe and my love for the Oxford comma that I can write succinctly. Admittedly, this page is not that.

Similar to the relationship we have with ourselves, you’ll notice the rest of my site is an ongoing work in progress. But the main takeaway is this:

Always be in pursuit of your dreams. I promise you they’re worth it.