The Beautiful Journey
It sounds clichéd, but when I was asked to author a farewell for the newspaper, I didn’t know what I was going to write. When I sat down with my computer to write this, I knew even less.
I couldn’t possibly comprehend what it truly meant to be hired by the newspaper last spring. I knew from going to Tear-Up meetings that the editorial board was a tight group; they got along well and joked around, and it seemed they were having a lot of fun. Most of these people were graduating though, and I didn’t know what to expect from a new board and a new year. So, I focused on three certainties: my writing and editing would improve,
I could add a job to my resume, and I would be making money. On the outside, this was it, but like I said, I had no idea what it meant.
I remember the first Tear-Up all the new editors had to attend when our new positions were announced. It’s so interesting to think about it now that I know more about these people than I ever imagined I would, that we’ve laughed, cried and fought with each other. On that day, in the newsroom, their faces were blank tablets that meant little to me — just another human being with whom I shared only a surface connection.
For me, it’s simple: I wouldn’t have made it through my last two years of college without these people. “These fucking people,” as Sarah S. Menendez and I affectionately refer to our editorial board when we consider the paradoxical burden that we all came into each others’ lives, developed friendships and love, and are now preparing to inevitably say goodbye to each other. It’s like getting sad about a broken heart that we not only foresaw, but also agreed to.
These friends completely altered my college career, for the better. The newspaper gave me new friends, and these friends gave me love, something to look forward to — every Wednesday, every Sunday, every time we went out to eat, every party we attended; we were with each other without fail. You cannot fully appreciate the comforting consistency of your friendships until you see the end of their regularity in sight.
I see this end now. It is a sad end to a beautiful journey. It is an end that is sad precisely because of the beauty of the journey.
We don’t regret the conclusion of bad experiences. We reminisce on the pleasant times of our lives because we yearn for their beauty, fearing that we perhaps did not savor these moments enough, but this is not true. We do not possess enough distance for the melancholic admiration of our experiences because we dwell within them, in their moments. This does not mean that we did not value them when they were here. It means that they’ve transformed, from the present to the past, into memories. The loveliness of the thing has and will be there, always.
To the newspaper, I thank for helping me grow as a writer and a professional.
To my lovely editorial board, my coworkers, my friends. I thank you for the love and friendship, for being there and helping and allowing me to be, simply by being, yourselves. There is nothing I would have rather been part of my last year of college, and there is no other group of people whom I would have preferred to share this experience with. No matter what we all do, or where we all go you will all always be in my heart. I love you! ZOT!