As I kept watching more films, I started noticing things without even trying. The way a camera would slowly move into a scene. The way lighting could completely change the mood. The way silence could sometimes say more than dialogue.

I didn’t have the words for any of it yet, but I was paying attention.

And I think that’s where it really started.

I’ve always seen myself as a pretty expressive person, and film became something that naturally connected with that. It felt like a way to communicate emotions and ideas without having to explain everything directly.

Even back in high school, whenever there was an opportunity to present something, I would look for a way to turn it into a video. Instead of just putting together slides like everyone else, I would challenge myself to create something more visual.

A lot of people saw it as unnecessary or even time-consuming. Why spend extra time filming and editing when you could just present the information and move on?

But for me, it never felt like a waste of time. It was the excitement of building something from scratch. Drafting a story, recording it, editing it, and then finally seeing it come together. That process was what made it worth it.

That was when I realized this was something I wanted to pursue seriously.

Telling my parents was not easy. Film is not exactly the safest career path, and the idea of becoming a “starving artist” made them hesitant at first.

But I knew this was more than just a phase. I stayed consistent, showed how committed I was, and eventually, they came around.

Before I knew it, I was on my way to Vancouver Film School, ready to take the next step.