From Art Kid to Music Journalist

Feeling alone in a (relatively) big city is a cliché I never thought I would identify with. Before college, I had built up this false hope that I would move to Milwaukee and instantly have everything – new friends, opportunities for my career, and most of all, happiness and a sense of belonging. I thought all my problems would be solved the moment I packed up my mom’s car and left the small tourist town of Lake Geneva, Wisconsin. That the moment I set foot on Milwaukee soil, a new world would open up and I would be ready to dive in.

But I was never less ready to take that jump than when the day came. Who knew what ocean I would land in, and if my life vest (sanity) would keep me afloat. I stood at the edge for so long that soon enough, I was pushed in without any warning. My mom shut her door, put the keys in the ignition with tears in her eyes and drove away. My eyes mimicked hers and instantly blurred with tears. It’s not that I used my mom as a crutch, it’s just that I was completely alone on the sidewalk in front of my dorm, and would still be the moment I walked in the door. My friends were at home, my brother, my cat, my life. The feeling of freedom flipped a 180 into fear and suddenly I wished that I never came.

Back when I was five years old I spent my afternoons alone in my bedroom, completely silent and completely content. I would pick a coloring book from my sky-high stack and color in my favorite pages for hours, without a concern in the world or a desire to talk to someone. I was at my happiest when our neighbors, who never seemed to leave our backyard, went home and I finally got to retreat to my room and sit in solace. I spent high school alone in my sanctuary listening to records and drawing pictures, much like younger me did.

I planned to change the current when I got to college, thinking that I would find a group that would make me not want to sit in my room alone, no matter how much I did enjoy it. I wanted to find people who shared the same interests as me and would make me feel like I had a place in not only college, but the world. So I joined the Art & Design Living Learning Community my freshman year, where everyone in the ‘community’ lived down the same hall and were encouraged to get to know each other due to our same interests. However, the last thing it was to me was a ‘community’, it was more like high school cliques all over again. At the beginning of the semester I was forcing myself to sit in the common area with everyone, forcing myself to make a connection with these people, forcing it to feel like somewhat like a community to me. But instead I was constantly bogged down with the feeling that I wasn’t talented enough, wasn’t cool enough, and just not enough of anything for these people. I tried and tried and tried, and never broke through, never found that feeling.

Instead I became so unhappy that I started to hate creating art at all. The only thing that made me happy, that wasn’t an hour away at home, was music. The only thing I felt like I was good at anymore was writing, so I combined my two passions and turned them into my career goal of being a music journalist. By November of my freshman year my major was switched, and I officially wasn’t an “art kid” anymore. Although this only excluded me from the bunch even more, I finally felt a little bit of that belonging I wanted so bad before, even though I was alone. I felt like I had some sort of purpose in the world and like I was here in Milwaukee, completely alone yet completely surrounded by people, for whatever reason it turns out to be.

I spent the end of my freshman year going home every weekend, just so I could leave the atmosphere that was filling up with so much gloom that I could barely breathe. When you still live on the same floor, there isn’t much place to go to get away, besides home. Yeah, I felt more at peace with myself, but I still wanted to get away from these people more than anything. Leaving art just gave them a reason to justify their exclusion, and it was only increasing as we both got individually deeper in our passions. I just wanted the year to end so I could try starting a new life, yet again. But this time, I had some idea what ocean I was jumping into.

Sophomore year began and I dove head first into my now-unburied passion and started writing music pieces nonstop – even though I had nowhere to put them. I just wanted to get my voice out there for someone to read, even if it was just my distant aunt on Facebook. I spent so many years in the crowd at concerts, completely silent, and now I finally felt like I had some kind of voice. I knew the things I experienced and will experience mattered, I just had to make it matter for other people too. Thankfully, a new revolution was beginning in my realm of music journalism. More and more young women were coming forward with their own experiences and channeling it into their work as well, and soon enough I was surrounded by flourishing writers, photographers, industry hopefuls and the like. I started sending my work out to a handful of music blogs and have been jumping from one to the other since. It was impossible to NOT be motivated and work hard towards my craft when the people I allied myself with were constantly pumping out remarkable content and taking strides like no other.

I no longer cared about trying to find my place with my colleagues. I once again took pride in the nights spent alone in my room, because I was spending them typing away on my computer trying to break through to the scene. Whether it was an album review, or a testimonial about being a girl trying to make her way through the male-dominated world of rock music, nearly every night was spent working towards my career. Thanks to the long nights, the waves are now forming faster than ever, and soon enough I’ll be driving the current right into the pool of my dream job – writing for an established music publication such as Alternative Press or Fuse.

Even though I feel at home for now in Milwaukee, I know this isn’t where I’ll drop my anchor. There will come a time that pushing my work into the internet waves independently isn’t enough, and my endeavor will migrate to (hopefully) Seattle or Los Angeles, maybe even New York. But for now, I’ll continue writing from the solace of my room, alone with the Milwaukee skyline right outside my window.