“Man…I can’t do this anymore.”
That’s the conclusion I reached at the end of my sophomore year in college.
I was a small YouTuber back then—a Call of Duty commentator. I recorded my best CoD gameplays, cut out the boring parts, and then voiced my commentary about the highlights or whatever else was on my mind later. After that, I uploaded the finished product to YouTube, and boom, it had hundreds of views the next day.
Yeah, I know it all sounds nerdy, but that time making videos was one of the most fun periods of my life.
That’s why I was devastated when I realized I couldn’t do it anymore.
School became too demanding and my grades reflected the split focus I had then. No, my grades weren’t bad mind you, but they weren’t good enough to keep the thousands of dollars in scholarship money rolling in. C’s may get degrees after all but they don’t do much to finance them. So with this knowledge in mind, I did what any responsible student would do: I shut it down.
I published my last video and left the door open for a return even though I knew I’d never come back. Then I embraced my role as Mr. full-time student. And guess what? It worked.
I made the dean’s list every semester after I quit YouTube. The only time I was disappointed with my grades after that was when I choked my chance at a 4.0—a goal I later accomplished the following semester.
My parents praised the improvement, potential employers were impressed by it, and I was proud to note the achievement on my résumé. Yet even though this was a massive success on the surface, I couldn’t help but feel like I failed.
Yeah, I made it out of college debt-free and found a good job without much trouble, but I lost something along the way:
- I lost a community that was passionate about my interests.
- I lost an outlet to be bold and take risks in public.
- I lost a (penny-making) business that directly rewarded my efforts.
I didn’t just lose a time-suck that hurt my academic performance.
I lost part of my identity—my art.
How It Motivates Me Today
Around the time I quit YouTube, I told myself that it was the last time I would ever give up my art. I had to quit then, but if I ever got the chance to create in the future, no circumstance would stop me for good. I would never give up something so special to me just to be successful at what I was supposed to do.
Now of course, I understand responsibility. My future kids can rest assured that daddy won’t leave them to do his own thing.
The point is, I won’t let unforeseen problems affect my long-term actions.
My writing now—like my videos then—is important to me, so I will respectfully say “no” when I’m pressured to give it up. Every sentence, paragraph, and article I write is me saying “no” even louder.
Ask any creator what their art means to them, and you’ll hear words like “passion”, “love”, “freedom”, “expression”. But if you ask me, the first word that comes to mind is this: rebellion.
Writing is my way of telling the world that I can’t be silenced, and that I do have something important to say. Sure, I still have fun with it, and I hope that feeling shines through my words as well, but I’ve experienced too much resistance to not see my work as pushback.
I can’t give up a piece of myself again. So that’s why I fight. That’s why I rebel.
I know that if I don’t, no one else will keep my art alive. And I’m sure you know the same is true for you.
You won’t always get the support you think you deserve. Crazy stuff you can’t predict will happen. And some people will go out of their way to tear you down….
But you have to rebel anyway.
Because if you don’t say “no” to the wrong things now, you won’t have a chance to say “yes” to the right ones.
-Drew
Photo by cottonbro on Pexels.
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