It’s been four years since I last felt this way. As a senior graduating from high school, I couldn’t escape the constant feeling of premature nostalgia, a sense that the world was slowly lurching toward an ending. Unlike a lot of my peers, I was almost entirely satisfied with my high school experience; I loved my friends, I had flourished in my high school’s environment and living at home was never a bother. As a final project in our senior English class, we had to write a reflective piece entitled the Self Paper. Here’s how I felt at the time, in my own words:
“As the year progresses, my fears for the future are growing stronger … The idea of starting over again in a new school is upsetting because it feels like I have lost all the social progress I made … Wellesley is undergoing many changes, as it does each year, but for the first time I won’t be around to see them … I can always come back to visit, but I am worried that the Wellesley I return to won’t quite be the same as the town I left behind.”
The fears I expressed as a senior weren’t without warrant. The transition from high school to college proved to be especially difficult for me. I was the only person from Wellesley who came to Binghamton, while all my friends had enrolled at prestigious private colleges and already seemed on the path to more successful and fulfilled lives. I started out my college career already disappointed with myself, and felt like my poor academics early in high school had doomed me forever. Feeling alienated as a freshman in a large, strange school, I made a conscious effort to direct all my energy to proving myself intellectually. I enrolled in as many interesting English, history and sociology courses as possible, and ate up all the theory I could get my hands on. I took Latin just for the challenge, and made it my duty to constantly push myself to new heights. For two years, I was extremely successful in my goal to become the best academic I could be. However, if my college experience had ended there, I’m not sure I would have had much to feel nostalgic about.
When I joined Pipe Dream in the fall of my junior year, I assumed my college years had reached their fullest potential. Certain I was too late to ever hold a position of importance, I joined this paper with the intention of casually getting back into my high school hobby while maybe making a few friends. I started off slowly with my photography, but before I knew it, my love for the medium drove me to make it my lifestyle. In contrast to all the time I had spent dealing with the world in abstract through theory and literature, photography forced me to literally focus on the events that were occurring right in front of my eyes. I spent my days going between different events on campus, catching glimpses of all the totally different happenings that the University hosts every single day. With each shutter click, I relished my role as both a participant and observer in the vast spectrum of student activities I attended. Despite being constantly exposed to school’s size and seemingly endless variation, it quickly became a lot smaller and friendlier right before my eyes.
From applying to be on staff, to moving into a terrifying house before signing the lease, to becoming the managing editor of this paper, I forced myself to keep making decisions that terrified me. So far, I have yet to regret any of them. Instead of failing, I’ve found myself surrounded by people I adore, a job I love doing and a city I’ve slowly come to appreciate on its own terms. I never thought it’d happen, but all of a sudden I’m right back where I felt at the end of high school. But because of every risky decision I’ve made, I feel a bit more ready to handle whatever comes next. I’m still afraid, but as much uncertainty as I have about the future, I look forward to continually challenging myself.
To my parents: Thank you for your unyielding support, your constant trust in my decision-making and your advice over the past four years. I can’t accurately express my appreciation for everything you guys have given me.
To the 2014-2015 staff: Thank you for taking a chance on me. It has been an honor to work with all of you, and it has been a pleasure for me to make sure your talent makes it onto the stands every Tuesday and Friday morning. I am so proud of the work everyone has done, and I’m consistently impressed by the quality of every issue we publish. I’ll miss you all dearly.
To my fellow residents of 73 Leroy: Thank you for what has been the funniest and most exciting year of my life. Every day has been a new favorite episode in our little sitcom (thanks, Josh), and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to live without eight other people constantly around. You guys turned the sketchiest house imaginable into a home.
To Carla: Thank you for your kindness and for always having a different opinion. You showed me that the best surprises come from where they are least expected.