What is your major at Tulsa Community College?
I’m an English major.
When did you start studying at TCC, and when will you graduate?
I begin studying at TCC in the fall semester of 2023 and plan to transfer to a university after the spring semester to pursue my English degree.
What obstacles have stood in your way while attending school, and how were you able to overcome them?
One of the biggest obstacles I faced while attending TCC was whether English was the right degree for me. My peers would always tell me that studying English meant I’d have to become a teacher—at least, that’s always their first assumption, which, in return, made me question my path. I began looking into marketing, but after attending my first sales class, I realized it was not the right career choice for me. Ultimately, I overcame my doubts by listening to myself and understanding that literature is a great passion of mine and ignoring that would have made me feel colossally unfulfilled.
What encouraged you to pursue your degree? What do you like to do when you are not in class or studying?
What encouraged me to pursue my degree was my deep love for books; they were my sanctuary, a refuge from the complex issues around me. I’ve always been a big reader, and my love for literature only deepened as I grew older; there’s power in telling a story and being young, feeling lost more than ever in such a massive world, discovering that it is nothing short of transformative. Lastly and most importantly, taking a writing class with TCC (Tulsa Community College) Professor Kyle Hayes was a turning point as well. He instilled confidence in me that was originally extremely difficult for me to find within myself and encouraged me enough to make the final choice to switch my major from marketing to English.
My ultimate goal is to enter the world of publishing; I want to go behind the scenes and be part of the process that brings the stories we love to life. I understand how impactful novels can be for people—me being sole proof of that, and being part of that process is exuberating, to say the least.
What can you not live without in your life?
I cannot live without my twin brother; he is genuinely my other half, and our bond can only be described as two halves of the same story. Just like me, he’s extremely creative, except he revels in the arts, to put it simply; where I write, he creates. I will never be able to picture a life without him by my side because, in many ways, he’s part of everything I create.
Which people have inspired you the most, and why?
There is one significant person that immediately comes to my mind when I think about who inspired me the most when it comes to my love for writing, and that is my grandmother. She came to the U.S. from Cuba in the ’60s, and she used reading as an escape, a passion of hers that carried down to me. After her passing, I received her most prized novels, and at times, holding them close to my chest feels as if I’m still holding a piece of her. Her love for storytelling now lives on in me, and every time I sit down and turn a page of one of her books, it feels as if she is right there, reading along with me.
What advice would you give to incoming college students?
The advice I would give for an incoming college student is to never doubt yourself. Your experience in college will be completely different than your peers, and that’s okay. Now, you have the freedom to choose what you learn in a diverse environment with people who care about what you are studying, and that is a riveting notion within itself. You will find your people and, most importantly, your passion. And always make sure you focus on what excites you… never what’s expected of you.
Has there been anything you have found difficult about the college experience?
What I have the most difficulty with in the college experience is being a full-time student while working long hours. At times, it feels as if I don’t have enough hours in a day to complete everything I want when exams, assignments, and assigned readings are thrown into the mix, especially in the thick of it, I’m picking up another shift. It’s as if I’m in a juggling act, except I have no idea how to juggle, but with practice comes perfection, and now that act is a skill I’m still mastering.
How many books do you read per year? What are the genres and subjects of those books?
I read close to 300 books a year, and sometimes, I go over that. There was a period in my life when I was reading a book a day. I would spend countless hours reading anything and everything, especially the novels that were thought-provoking, and a distinct memory I have was when I completed a seven-book series in four days because I was so entirely consumed with the world an author had painted that it almost felt tangible. Reading has never felt like a chore; if anything, I make it part of my routine; it’s unequivocally my first love.
Currently, you are participating in the Novel Writing class at TCC. Would you like to share a piece of your creative writing?
Here is a really short piece of mine.
Beneath The Canvas That Spoke
Life always felt like a tangle of variables that never quite balanced. My days were a fraction—split between obligations, my extreme ambitions, and the lingering reminder of self-doubt. I was unequivocally a complex formula with no sign of a solution.
It’s why painting was my solace; I lived with color constantly pressed beneath my fingernails, staining my skin until it almost felt as if it was part of me. I threw paint onto a canvas the same way some people might breathe—instinctively, desperately as if my very existence depended on it. I used to believe I could paint my way through everything, but then I realized there are some things that not even color can fix. When I was young, I painted to understand. When I was in love, I painted to feel. And when I was lost more than ever, I painted to remind myself I was more than the mistakes that haunted me.
Some days I would sit in front of my art piece for hours and continuously think about tearing the whole thing apart and setting the damn thing on fire, hoping the flames would consume what I could never be able to fix. But then my grandmother saw my trepidation and whispered, “you despise your art because it reveals too much of yourself,” and in that moment I realized my art would forever betray me, for it told stories I never wanted to share. In haste, I grabbed a knife and tore the canvas apart, hoping my layers of unspoken pain bled into my piece would go silent, but as the fabric curled, I witnessed something beneath my destruction… I dropped the knife, my hands shaking from my violent blur; the colors bled and collapsed into ruin, but when the fury faded, my wreckage lay before me, I saw it. The painting was destroyed, yet the truth remained. Even its demise, it spoke. Even in its destruction, it refused to be erased.
I dropped to my knees because I finally understood. Betrayal had never been my art. It had been my own fear of being seen.
