"Free Will" by Steve Pulaski

NOTE: "Free Will" is one of the first works I will be writing for my college creative writing class, and one of the first pieces of fiction I've ever written. Faithful followers know I'm more about personal reflections, film/music reviews, and a wide variety of thinkpieces, so much so that any creative ideas I have get lost in the shuffle (though I'm currently tossing around ideas for a novel and a short film at this time).

With that being said, "Free Will" is my most layered work to date. Most of my work has been easily extractable on the surface, with not much left to the imagination. "Free Will" is a deeper piece, allegorical, metaphoric, and detailed in a way that I've never toyed with before. I first came up with the idea while in my creative writing class, put it to the side of my mind, and mentally conceptualized and outlined it in my head this past weekend at work before committing it to the screen when I got off one night. This piece will be discussed in my creative writing class on April 14, 2015.

"Free Will"

By: Steve Pulaski

College is the time when we're supposed to discover who we are and who we want to become. Friends and family members, extended and immediate, have told me that college is the place for me, and that I will be graced with so many wonderful experiences that I won't be able to contain myself; if I had a dollar every time one of them told me college is the "four best years of your life," I'd have enough to pay off the already insurmountable debt I've accumulated.

As a sophomore whose year is coming to a close in a month, I must say, the highlight of my day is the twenty-five minute drive to school. During this time, I'm enclosed in my empire on four wheels. I have a radio that keeps me sane with the abundance of music I play, several snacks to keep me nourished, and cigarettes to keep my stress level to a minimum. I stay on the same road for ten miles and then I'm plunged into the middle of my campus.

This road I travel isn't a populated one, not even during the morning commute or the evening rush hour. Drivers around me usually exit shortly after getting on the road, turning right or left onto a busier street or an expressway; I'm willing to bet I travel the furthest on this road each morning. It's a remarkably unremarkable road, but it's the one I know the best: laundromats, fast food joints, car washes, tobacco shops, liquor stores, gas stations, and the occasional grocery store populate it. Welcome to America.

This road I travel bears rough terrain, and it wasn't until recently did I find myself questioning why I stay on this particular road. I work at a local supermarket, so I always have money on me, my gas tank never gets below half full, and my sense of direction is better than most my age. It takes about twelve intersections before I reach my college campus, and each time I approach a new road, I think of turning onto it and seeing where it takes me.

This road I travel takes me to a place of certain righteousness; where my parents expect me to be, where my family's savings goes, and where my affluent community expects me to be rather than on the streets or behind a counter full-time. However, the roads I haven't traveled seem more exciting for the sole fact that I'm not sure where many of them would take me. I stay on this path because of fear I'll be scolded for deviating course, or perform poorly in school and lose my lofty scholarship, bringing shame to my parents, who have worked so hard to get me here.

And yet, this road I travel shows me the real world unlike I've seen it before. With opportunities to forge my own path, to forgo a simple route and see things as they are, rather than the way a textbook dictates or the way a professor tells me to see them. This road speaks louder than any of those forces could, and its voice is one that was never audible.

This road I travel has now brought me to its final intersection before it takes me into my college campus for a few blocks. I adhere to the stoplight's invitation to stop at the fine white line. I can go left, I can go right, I can pull an illegal U-turn and go back where I came from, or I can pursue my intended path. As always, the choice is up to me.