It’s early afternoon on Thursday and I’m the only one in the newsroom.
It’s kind of ironic, that I came down here to write my final goodbye and I’m alone.
Times like these are ones I cherish the most. Not being caught up in meeting deadline or running late to class, but the precious moments when I can take it all in.
When I can slow down time and realize what this empty newsroom means to me.
I think back to when I was an intimidated arts candidate spring semester of my junior year. I only truly befriended one person here at the Collegian during that semester, and coincidentally I held her old position as Venues editor until 6:15 a.m. Friday.
Regardless, I gave every semester I had to the Collegian after that, including two summer sessions. It was inevitable; I had fallen in love with the newsroom.
I have always been a storyteller, and journalism was the spark to my flame. The ability to inform and ignite the imagination of others has always been something I truly enjoyed.
With every semester that passed I pushed myself further, all while becoming more comfortable with the people around me. For some reason, though, I always felt lost.
I can’t tell you when it happened, but I stopped and realized that I’m not different from any of these people. We’re all on the island of misfit toys and in this basement we have grown together despite the lack of sunshine.
We were all brought together for the love of storytelling.
The moment I am in right now is the kind of moment I’m talking about, when you can sit back and just breathe.
Now after four and a half years and I giving Penn State every cent of my soul, I can walk away with my head held high even though I don’t know what I’m going after graduation. And that doesn’t bother me. There is a short conversation from “Alice in Wonderland” by Lewis Carroll, where Alice is talking to the Cheshire cat. She asks the cat where she should go from here, and he responds with that depends.
“I don’t much care where —” Alice said.
“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the cat.
I feel like Alice. I don’t know where I want to go, but I’m itching to explore the life that I have been graced with.
I’m excited to not know what the future holds for me, because now I can make my own. I know that I have the drive to get where I want to go, and that gives me the courage to not be scared of the world.
My advice to anyone is when you feel like drowning is stress and despair, stop and take in the serendipitous moment you are in, then focus on the task at hand.
You can’t forget that you are here to live life.
And, like the philosophy minor that I am, I often ponder what the point of life even is.
I know you’re all dying to know what a 22-year-old’s meaning of life is, and shockingly enough it’s not at the bottom of a pint glass or in my breakfast bowl.
The beauty of life is in the eye of the beholder, so my parting plea is to just live.
Peace and love.
Alyse Horn is a senior majoring in print journalism and is The Daily Collegian’s Venues Editor. Email her at email@example.com.