I feel compelled to write as a formality, to mark the ending of a year and the beginning of a new chapter.
Writing, for a time, was my sanctuary, a way to let out all the feelings that would no longer fit inside my head and my heart. It's strange, because while I am the same person with the same heart today, I've learned how to work those pressing feelings into digestable components. I take once incomprehensible and unbearable emotions and try to understand them for what they really are.
2006 is over. It's been a full year, and I'm looking forward to a fresh one.
12.30.2006
12.12.2006
Recycling
I'm getting lazier by the moment, it seems ... but I was reading the last piece I wrote as Features columnist at UCI, written only days and weeks before some of the more challenging moments in my life, i.e., graduation, starting a career, heartbreak, moving back in with my parents. I don't know if I'm just reading into it after the fact, but there's a tone of wisdom and apprehension in my words, a bittersweet affirmation that I knew a painful change was ahead. Thinking back to my conscious at the time, cheery, ignorant optimism lay at the forefront of my thoughts, a thin veil shrouding my subconscious uncertainties.
Anyway, thought it might be worth a read ... enjoy?
Leaving the Jungle for Something Scarier— Life
Welcome to the Jungle
By Taraneh Arhamsadr Staff Writer
I feel like this is my final curtain call. In many ways, I suppose it is. Four years ago, I arrived at UC Irvine, bright-eyed bushy-tailed, and altogether terrified.
Oddly, the very first thing I did was sign up to write for the newspaper. I don’t remember exactly why or how I went about it, but the next thing I knew, there was a story assignment in my unworthy hands and a lifetime of memories directly ahead.
Soon enough, I became an editor, signing away my soul and my Sundays for a chance to shape the minds and ideas of my fellow students. “With great power comes great responsibility” was my motto, and I reached far and wide to represent all aspects of our campus within my six-page section.
Ambitious though I was, my young and naïve side still ruled, and I made many, many mistakes. I was safe. I didn’t push the envelope. I was easily convinced. But I learned—I had no choice.
There’s a funny process that college newspaper editors go through. As an editor, it’s your job to know more about the school than your fellow students and, if you have a heart, you start to care about what’s going on. As you progress and see more, you let yourself get angry about the issues students face and make it your job to change the status quo with what you write. Once you finally realize that some issues are beyond your control, however, you abandon the do-gooder mentality and think of what you can do in your position to affect change.
This means that hate speech will continue under the guise of free speech on our campus. Student groups will continue to feud over the wars of their ancestors, deepening wounds that they don’t fully comprehend. Fees will go up, parking will be inconvenient, and Anteaters still won’t have school spirit. The only thing I and those who come after me can do is report the facts, make sure every voice and perspective is heard and try to be fair and balanced—which, I might say, is harder than it looks.
The New University has been a major part of my life. While everything else around me has continued to change, my involvement in the newspaper has remained a constant, molding me into a wiser person than I ever thought I could be.
After all, you can learn a lot about yourself after being shut up in an office for nine hours with fifteen coworkers, all working fervently to produce a publication that will be copied 10,000 times before the night is over. More than just technical and academic skills, I’ve learned that patience can take me surprisingly far, that it takes less effort to be kind than to be a bitch, and that I am stronger than I think (or look).
Through this column, I’ve revealed a lot to all of you over the years. From dating drama to weight issues to my time in the Middle East, I feel that many of you have made this journey through college with me.
Now, I am very sad to go, but I know I have to. I could fail my classes on purpose and stay another year, but my parents wouldn’t be too happy. For everyone who’s read along or laughed or cried, or even gotten angry at my writing, I’d like to thank you and bid you farewell.
It’s been a pleasure.
Anyway, thought it might be worth a read ... enjoy?
Leaving the Jungle for Something Scarier— Life
Welcome to the Jungle
By Taraneh Arhamsadr Staff Writer
I feel like this is my final curtain call. In many ways, I suppose it is. Four years ago, I arrived at UC Irvine, bright-eyed bushy-tailed, and altogether terrified.
Oddly, the very first thing I did was sign up to write for the newspaper. I don’t remember exactly why or how I went about it, but the next thing I knew, there was a story assignment in my unworthy hands and a lifetime of memories directly ahead.
Soon enough, I became an editor, signing away my soul and my Sundays for a chance to shape the minds and ideas of my fellow students. “With great power comes great responsibility” was my motto, and I reached far and wide to represent all aspects of our campus within my six-page section.
Ambitious though I was, my young and naïve side still ruled, and I made many, many mistakes. I was safe. I didn’t push the envelope. I was easily convinced. But I learned—I had no choice.
There’s a funny process that college newspaper editors go through. As an editor, it’s your job to know more about the school than your fellow students and, if you have a heart, you start to care about what’s going on. As you progress and see more, you let yourself get angry about the issues students face and make it your job to change the status quo with what you write. Once you finally realize that some issues are beyond your control, however, you abandon the do-gooder mentality and think of what you can do in your position to affect change.
This means that hate speech will continue under the guise of free speech on our campus. Student groups will continue to feud over the wars of their ancestors, deepening wounds that they don’t fully comprehend. Fees will go up, parking will be inconvenient, and Anteaters still won’t have school spirit. The only thing I and those who come after me can do is report the facts, make sure every voice and perspective is heard and try to be fair and balanced—which, I might say, is harder than it looks.
The New University has been a major part of my life. While everything else around me has continued to change, my involvement in the newspaper has remained a constant, molding me into a wiser person than I ever thought I could be.
After all, you can learn a lot about yourself after being shut up in an office for nine hours with fifteen coworkers, all working fervently to produce a publication that will be copied 10,000 times before the night is over. More than just technical and academic skills, I’ve learned that patience can take me surprisingly far, that it takes less effort to be kind than to be a bitch, and that I am stronger than I think (or look).
Through this column, I’ve revealed a lot to all of you over the years. From dating drama to weight issues to my time in the Middle East, I feel that many of you have made this journey through college with me.
Now, I am very sad to go, but I know I have to. I could fail my classes on purpose and stay another year, but my parents wouldn’t be too happy. For everyone who’s read along or laughed or cried, or even gotten angry at my writing, I’d like to thank you and bid you farewell.
It’s been a pleasure.
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