From an early age I considered myself a writer.
Writing scares me. When I was younger and a little more brash, I would share my writing with anyone and everyone. I would write poems about strangers, neighbors, crushes, trees, families, and probably something emo here and there. Despite my fear, I always felt this magnetic pull to it. I tried my hat in performance poetry, but nearly wet myself. I tried writing novels, but my attention span was far too short. And last, I tried blogging—but that certainly did not stick.
I kept asking myself how I could incorporate my desire to write and tell stories. I asked my friends. I asked my boyfriend. I asked my mom. I asked strangers. I asked so many people what to do, that I'm almost certain it was a form of procrastination instead of implementation. The moment I knew, I knew—I asked, because that's all I knew how to do.
I picked up on these chatty habits from a combination of my mother and emotional observance. My mom could talk to strangers like it was her job—well, because it is, being that she works in customer service management. When she would talk to people, I would watch how their body language would change depending on the question. There was balance between knowledge and inquiry, question and answer, confidence and nerves. At the end, though, each person would come away having gained value.
I always have a million questions for people. I try to keep the conversation going, even when I’m not sure if it should still be happening. I want to know more about the people around me—and, if I keep on my active listening habits, I can remember a lot about people. This skill, which I previously found rather useless, has otherwise been kept in my day-to-day untapped. I always had this feeling that it was worth more than that. I wanted to bring my curiosities to other people, and discuss matters other than work or the mundane. You can always tell when someone talks about their passions, because that same chattiness that I can’t help becomes infectious. Passion makes your feet tap, eyes widen, and face fill with tangible joy.
My first interview series is going to focus on: young people. It is called 'In conversation'.
Why start here?
People seem to talk about young people a lot.
What may be more important than anything, though, is that we're talking to each other—specifically about what we find important, the reality we're living in, and what kind of world we plan on creating. I want to tell our stories and share the lives that we live.
How are we handling our mental health? What kind of careers are we going into? What stereotypes are we challenging? What goals are we putting for ourselves and others? How are we meeting people if we're all moving to different cities and getting out of our small towns? Do we ever outgrow what we once knew? How are we supporting each other through one of the most troubling times in recent history? What have we learned?
Each interview will start with three essential questions—who do you admire, what or who was your first love, and what is a moment that changed your life. Then, we'll dive into the main story.
Let's meet at the axis of personal and communal. Let's talk about what's happening to ourselves and each other. Let's own our narrative.