I’ll never forget the day I got the letter saying I got into Northwestern University in Evanston, my dream school. It was close-ish to home, sat on a lake, featured cool classes, and had a big library for a nerd like me. Hoo-wee I was flying high.
My first day of class, I knew it wasn’t for me.
I made it two years. My grades were good, but I was miserable. I tried everything the school had to offer, but I couldn’t make it fit. The only joy I found was in cooking for my dorm and in writing songs in a music department building called “the beehive,” named after the cacophonous sounds of all the instruments buzzing inside.
I wasn’t even a music major; I was starting down the pre-med route. But that noisy building may have literally saved my life my sophomore year. I was low down. I didn’t know how to break it to my parents that I didn’t want to stay at school. I was even more scared to tell them that I either wanted to go into cooking or music. My dad thought I was wasting my brain.
And to be honest, I think I wanted to try wasting my brain.
I’ve had a few low points in my life, and that was one of them. Lost doesn’t begin to describe it. It’s hard when you only know what’s NOT for you. I knew I didn’t want to reach for any of the stars that were hanging at Northwestern. It took a long time to learn what I really wanted.
And surprise surprise: it was music and cooking.
Reader, I say this a lot, but our hearts know what’s best for us. Our minds may want us to compete with our peers, to chase their dreams, to keep up with their ambitions. But we’ve got to be true to what we love. There is little point pretending that we don’t enjoy our own damn interests.
On Thursday, I was in Evanston for a friends’ show. I walked my 8-year-old daughter through Northwestern. The students had just graduated, and the campus was quiet. I showed her the beehive and my dorm. I’m not sure if she’ll remember it, but I told her about going in the direction of joy, and I’m writing it here for posterity. Let’s all remember to follow our joy this week, and I’ll see you next Monday. -Em
