This is an autobiographical little ditty about my change of major.

She wanted to be a choir teacher. She was sure she wanted to be a choir teacher. She loved music. What better than to teach it?

So she took music classes. Lots of them. And she learned as much about music as she could.

She learned to hate music theory and love studying classical voice. She was rejected from the advanced choirs at school and became frustrated with the lower level choirs she was required to be enrolled in.

And slowly, she had an epiphany. She tried to ignore it - it scared her. So she did ignore it. Or at least, she ignored it until she could ignore it no longer.

She no longer wanted to be a choir teacher.

What she wanted since she was eleven years old was now gone. Her hopes and dreams were gone.

What did she want to do?

She didn't know.

But she knew one thing. She was good at writing, and she was good at editing. And her mother had gotten a degree in English from her same university. She could follow in her footsteps.

It took time. It took soul-searching. But finally...

She decided she wanted to be a writer.