Aby, Abi, Abbi, Abbey, and even Abbie, believe it or not, are some of the misspellings I’ve acquired over the many years of school. With these misspellings, comes the awkward response of, “It’s just a Y,” every single year. I’ve even had a teacher who spelled my name wrong the entire duration of her class in fourth grade, so you can believe how sick I am of this devastation of misspellings. Just imagine the stress of a ten-year-old dealing with that kind of misfortune.
Sometimes, I accidentally give off the persona of a quiet, shy student that stands in the background of photos, refuses to raise her hand in class to ask questions, and is too afraid to step out of her comfort zone to try something new. Honestly, it’s usually just because I’m tired, but no one else knows that that’s the case. So, whenever I correct the misspelling of my name, I get a few glances because my peers don’t expect me to talk. But in reality, it’s the complete opposite—I am a boisterous, lively 19-year-old who loves Harry Potter and has the frequent tendency to sometimes be a bit louder than intended.
I just get really excited.
This past summer, I interned at a newspaper and man, what an experience. The opportunity to learn so many new things wouldn’t have been given to me if I wasn’t tossed out of my comfort zone—and by tossed, I don’t mean gently. I was literally thrown upside down, head first into pure mayhem. To put it simply, there were many curveballs involving this internship. What do I mean by this? Well, I once sprinted in heels on the highway to get a picture of a man being life-flighted. I was also denied access to take pictures of a train wreck, forcing me to stand my ground until I got the pictures I needed. I even had the chance to see a grand tour of a beautiful 7000 sq. ft. home being built. Even though I felt very uncomfortable in certain situations because I wasn’t used to the confrontation, it helped shape me into the growing journalist I am today.
Throughout the years, I have learned that I have a true passion for writing. Wherever I am, if I think of an idea to write about, I pull out a crumpled receipt or gum wrapper, maybe even a napkin—whatever I can find usually— and write down key notes about what thoughts have popped into my mind. When I write, it makes me feel as if I have my life together, even if that isn’t the case. (I’m a college student, so I most definitely DO NOT have my life together.) Writing is an outlet that calms me when I feel panicked and relaxes me when things may not be necessarily going as planned. It’s a way of expressing myself in words when I feel like I can’t express them out loud. Plus, personally, writing has no rules for me except for one: we can’t be brave in this big world without at least one small safe space to work through our fears and failures—writing is my safe space.
And with that being said, I plan to take on this big world, one disastrous misspelling at a time.
XOXO, Abby With a Y