The day before Thanksgiving, I had driven to my hometown, over an hour away, for a small reunion of high school friends. It was my senior year at UGA, in the middle of an exciting season of Georgia Football, and I was confident in my life plan: graduate, work at a station, and someday be a reporter in a big city.

I stayed in my hometown that night and woke up to a phone call. A sobbing voice, my roommate, could barely tell me the bad news - my house, my bed, my clothes, my course assignments and books, were all gone. An electrical fire had started just hours after I had left the night before and somehow, by the grace of God, I wasn't there to witness it.

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I spent the following year making up assignments and trying to get my life back together. My dream of reporting had to be put on the backburner so I could work my way back from nothing to having the minimum.

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Now, I have two feet on the ground and I'm ready to run.

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​I'm ready for a career as a reporter and I have a passion inside of me that far surpasses any flame. I am a humble learner, a teamworkaholic, a server of my community, and, most of all, a person with a passion.