Once upon a very long time ago, if you'd asked the 18-year-old me why I was heading off to journalism school, I'd undoubtedly have had a few answers.
I want to write, I'd have said. I want to tell stories and get paid for it, and being a reporter will let me do that.
In the spirit of youthful idealism, I'd also likely have told you that I wanted to make a difference.
I entered the career believing that journalism was one of those professions that allow you to do that, in however small a way: to make a difference and to help effect change in people's lives.
I still believe that.
But what I spend more time thinking about, the older I get, is not how much of a difference I have made as a journalist - but how much of a difference being a journalist has made to me.
Every year around this time, I find myself looking back on the year that has been and on the number of people who have allowed me into their lives. Every year, I continue to marvel at the way in which people open up their homes, their hearts and their souls to tell their stories to a stranger in the hopes that those stories will make a difference to someone else.
What I don't take the time to do, as often as I should, is to let those people know that their stories did make a difference - to the readers out there and, in a very personal way, to me.
Every time I meet with someone brimming over with enthusiasm about a new artistic venture, I'm reminded of the value of creativity in my life.
Every time I talk to a young person who's setting off down a path as a dancer, a singer, an artist, I'm reminded of the importance of pursuing my personal passions.
Every time I interview someone who's done it, who's making a living doing what they love, I'm reminded of the ways in which what we do for a living shapes who we are as human beings.
And I'm reminded, over and over again, of how incredibly important it is for the world to be full of the people I meet in my capacity as arts reporter - the creative, the determined, the passionate, the original, the talented, the sometimes just-a-little-out-there people who infuse the world with art and soul.
This year, I want to extend my personal thanks to some of those people whose paths have crossed mine this year.
There was the group of teens spending their summer with Carousel Theatre's Teen Shakespeare Program and its gender-bending Hamlet - Sofia Bunting Newman, Emily Armitage, Isaac McAndless-Davis and Daisy Hulme - who couldn't say enough good things about each other and about the program.
There was Farley Johansson, a graduate of Royal City Youth Ballet, who's gone on to pursue a professional dance career and who took time out to talk about his work with Dances For A Small Stage.
There were the family acts: Angela Louie and India Eliot Oates, the mother-daughter team who wrote and illustrated The Possibility Tree; and Amanda and Lucas Testini, the sibling duo who are onstage now in Carousel Theatre's Seussical.
There were the talented teens from DanzMode who made a splash at West Coast Dance Explosion national finals in Las Vegas - Kristina Akester, Rachael Withers and Nicholas Ventura.
There were the young singer-songwriters working to break into the music business, adding positive attitudes and amazing energy to their already abundant natural talent - Luca Fogale and Megan Twist.
There was the husband-and-wife team of Cassius Khan and Amika Kushwaha, who welcomed me into their Queensborough home and opened up their hearts about their love of classical Indian music and dance.
There was Kevin Takahide Lee, whom I met for coffee in the expectation of a simple interview about a new, multigenerational choir starting up in Burnaby - and with whom I had a most fascinating conversation about culture, reconciliation and how one family's past influences its future.
There were the delightful women I spoke to in the course of a special report about babies, toddlers and the arts - Marcia Jones, Kera Doherty, Vashti Fairbairn, Jessica Hanson - who are all helping to instill a love of dance and music in the very youngest members of our community.
And, just a week or so ago, there was wee Josiah Smith, the cutest little one-year-old photographer's model you could ever hope to find, who cheerfully accompanied his dad on an interview. Oh yeah, and there was his dad, too - Grayson Smith, author of a new children's book and founder of a new independent publishing company, and Alana Kyle, the illustrator of said book.
Each and every one of you, in various ways, shared something that touched me, that entertained me, that made me stop and think and smile. Each and every one of you reminded me just how much difference one passionate person can make in the world - and how important it is to keep the arts alive.
On behalf of the readers of this newspaper, and from the very bottom of my own heart, I have a simple message: Thank you.
Thank you for daring to be the kind of people who make a difference in the world - and who make my desk here in the newsroom a place I love to come.
Merry Christmas, happy holidays and the warmest of new year's blessings to all of you.
Julie MacLellan is the arts reporter for the Burnaby NOW and Record newspapers. You can email her at [email protected], [email protected], or find her on Twitter, @juliemaclellan.
