Quiz time! If you love acting and performing, hate boats, and have the physical fitness of an inebriated squirrel, which extracurricular do you join in your first year of university?

A) Theatre

B) Music society

C) Rowing

To those who know me well, the answer may seem obvious – but first year Gabrielle decided to surprise everyone in her life (herself included) by picking C.

As I steadily approach my final year here, I’ve recently found myself looking back at my Cambridge career. My first year was eventful to say the least, but the one thing I can’t wrap my head around was how I chose to spend my time. Let me explain: the ONLY club I got involved in was ROWING. Now, that’s not to say rowing isn’t great. It is an extremely demanding sport and anyone who pursues it has my complete admiration.

“I spent the duration of my first year mornings bordering on hypothermia on the Cam”

That being said, I may not know many things about myself, but I do have a sufficient level of self -awareness to know that I am not, and never will be, a ‘rower’. I love acting, music, and writing. Sport has never been my thing and every time someone mentions Strava I get heart palpitations. Maybe one day that will change and I’ll become an ultramarathon runner, but 2025 Gabrielle is asthmatic and feels violently ill at the thought of a hike. And yet, I spent the duration of my first year mornings bordering on hypothermia on the Cam.

The only time I dared to follow my interests was when I took part in my college’s freshers’ play, which I adored doing, despite its chaos. For the duration of the play, I was temporarily revived; acting is, after all, what I love to do. Afterwards, I looked at ADC auditions, made a note of timings, acted out a Fleabag monologue in front of my mirror for the fiftieth time and then… I never ended up attending any of the auditions.

I’d go to concerts and open mics, I’d watch bands and dance with my friends, and every now and again I’d look up to the stage in longing because all I wanted to do was perform. But I never signed up for an open mic, and I never sang. I’d read Varsity articles and write out ideas, but I never dared to apply for anything, because God forbid I let someone read what I wrote. Everything I created, every flicker of desire I had, remained under lock and key. In doing so, I felt my identity diminishing, replaced by this new character. “There goes my sense of self,” I thought. “Now I’ll have to walk around parties introducing myself as an “awful rower scared to do anything”. I’m sure that’ll break the ice.”

“It was easier to do something I didn’t like with people, than to do something I loved alone”

The thing is, it’s so easy to become absorbed by familiarity and ease. Especially at Cambridge, where our degree often leaves us with little time and energy to pursue other things. My friends rowed, so I rowed. It was easier to do something I didn’t like with people, than to do something I loved alone. It made me lose myself. And even worse, it made me boring to talk to, because we are our most interesting, happy, engaged versions of ourselves when we are doing what we love. We should safeguard our passions and nurture them. Last year, I missed out on so much because I was scared of entering new places by myself and taking up too much space. But anyone who has ever done anything was scared at one point too. It is better to be loud and uncomfortable in the pursuit of your passions than comfortably quiet in the corner of a room (or a boat) that you don’t want to be in.

I’m now using my time to do what I love. I have a radio show with my friend, I perform at open mics, I’m in a band, and my article ideas are now more than just ideas. I’m still scared of a lot of things, but I’m trying to not let that put me off. So, do it scared. Go for that ridiculously out of reach opportunity just because you can and because you want it. Let yourself want something and let that be enough to convince you that you can achieve it. Time is precious and it isn’t going to slow down for you while you buck up the courage. We’re all a bit terrified; that’s what makes it interesting. If I could tell 18-year-old me anything – and I’d want to tell her a lot – it would be to get the hell out of that boat and pick up a pen.