<p>Hello, all. Just figured I'd tell you my story and ask your opinion.</p>
<p>I've wanted to write since I was a kid. In high school, I became demoralized enough to call it "going into publishing." By my freshman year of college, I realized that all it took to write was to write. So I joined the paper. I wrote constantly. I interned or freelanced for five companies, including a major news network and a well-known alternative quarterly. I found it challenging and often exhilarating. When I became editor of my college paper, I was surprised to find that I had a knack for [crisis] management as well.</p>
<p>Then something happened. I applied to two journalism schools, Berkeley and Columbia, fully expecting to apply to some jobs in the spring. I made the schools, but I never wound up applying for any jobs, because I am a big wimp.</p>
<p>Now I'm set to start a one-year masters program at Columbia in August. I've been looking forward to this for four years. Sort of. All this time, I've been working so hard to leave nothing to chance. I promised myself I wouldn't depend on my mom for money. She's willing to pay most of my tuition (I'll work part time and take out my first student loan). At the same time, all this has shown me something: my mom went into a relatively stable profession (law). That has allowed her to fund my forays into what's currently the most volatile. </p>
<p>Is it too late now? Can I get out of this? Should I get out of this? Is this just a lapse of idealism brought on by panic, or am I really doing everything wrong? I've heard both.</p>