Editor's Corner
Hold on to what makes you 'you'
Ana Yanni
Issue date: 4/23/09 Section: Opinion
Looking for some random, and now forgotten detail, I picked up an old journal of mine this weekend. On the cover is a poem.
It's a sweet, uplifting poem about wishing on stars, dreaming and watching the world with curiosity.
I remember my younger self, receiving this journal from my dad. I was thirteen. Close to half of my lifetime has passed since then and yet, I remember this journal.
I assume he gave it to me with hopes of inspiring me, wanting the poem to read like the special messages written in on birthday cards. It worked.
If asked I could still to this day recite the poem without seeing the journal. It reminds me a lot of what I used to be like as an adolescent: carefree, obnoxiously curious, hopeful.
Dozens of questions are swimming around my head, and I'm sure the heads of my fellow seniors, as we await the dramatic shift that will come with the end of our careers as college students.
This poem didn't help. If anything it just sent me into an introspective tailspin.
It's hard to imagine myself here, at the end. I think about who I was at thirteen and remember what sorts of things I cared about, worried.
Did I have any idea I'd be here now, at 22, ready to start a brand new life on my own?
What advice would I have given myself then to prepare for the years that would follow?
I don't feel like I have an answer to that question. To say that I would have changed something would probably alter who am I now.
To say that I am a totally different person now would also probably be incorrect. I'm still the same me, I've just learned and experienced a little more.
That being said, one of the most posed questions to senior is "what advice do you have for underclassmen?" I don't think I would have had an answer to this until I read that poem this weekend.
College is over-dramatized as the place where you will make the most changes in your life. The place where you will acquire the tools to become the grown-up you were meant to be.
It's a sweet, uplifting poem about wishing on stars, dreaming and watching the world with curiosity.
I remember my younger self, receiving this journal from my dad. I was thirteen. Close to half of my lifetime has passed since then and yet, I remember this journal.
I assume he gave it to me with hopes of inspiring me, wanting the poem to read like the special messages written in on birthday cards. It worked.
If asked I could still to this day recite the poem without seeing the journal. It reminds me a lot of what I used to be like as an adolescent: carefree, obnoxiously curious, hopeful.
Dozens of questions are swimming around my head, and I'm sure the heads of my fellow seniors, as we await the dramatic shift that will come with the end of our careers as college students.
This poem didn't help. If anything it just sent me into an introspective tailspin.
It's hard to imagine myself here, at the end. I think about who I was at thirteen and remember what sorts of things I cared about, worried.
Did I have any idea I'd be here now, at 22, ready to start a brand new life on my own?
What advice would I have given myself then to prepare for the years that would follow?
I don't feel like I have an answer to that question. To say that I would have changed something would probably alter who am I now.
To say that I am a totally different person now would also probably be incorrect. I'm still the same me, I've just learned and experienced a little more.
That being said, one of the most posed questions to senior is "what advice do you have for underclassmen?" I don't think I would have had an answer to this until I read that poem this weekend.
College is over-dramatized as the place where you will make the most changes in your life. The place where you will acquire the tools to become the grown-up you were meant to be.
Viewing Comments 1 - 1 of 1
Nancy
posted 4/26/09 @ 11:05 AM EST
You are quite a remarkable woman. I am so proud of you and all that you have overcome to be who you are today. You have stayed true to yourself and I can't wait to see what the future will offer you. (Continued…)
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