Sunset

I walked into a grungy and damp classroom, soon to discover I was the only freshman and the only one without a clue.


Pretty typical of my first few weeks of college.


It was mid-way through my first semester that I found myself in a Campbell Times meeting. I was ready to conquer the world with witty banter and Pulitzer photography.


Ha.


I gleaned the first issue of the paper at the meeting. That summer was so hot that I wasn't the only thing sweating profusely -- my desk was perspiring into the newspaper's low grade paper. 


Through smudged words and spotty photos I knew I had found my niche. I found a venue to test my writing, to learn the craft... to screw up enough times that a byline was extremely humbling.


My time on the school newspaper has in many ways defined my career at Campbell. In the news room I encountered some of the most landmark personalities of the last four years of  my life. 


I grew up in the Communication Studies Department and the Campbell Times was my playground. I made friends, tested my skills, skinned my knees, swung the highest on the swings, and gossiped a lot with other girls.


I won't go in to all the ways a student paper is vital to a university, especially a private one. I will, however, tell you what a trial, tribulation, pain in the butt, and how totally awesome it is to be a part of the few pieces of paper that frames student culture and represents thousands of people.


The school paper taught me thousands of lessons, most of which I won't realize for years to come. 


Tonight's Campbell Times banquet marked the end of my time with the paper. In a month my name will be in the archives. No more bylines, no more copy editing, no more drama  with the administration. 


Cue the cheesy closing line....


All good things must come to an end.

Perspective

I grew up in a middle-class town with middle-class friends. I go to school in a middle-class town with middle-class friends.

For the sake of explaining my thought process, I'm going to loosely define "middle-class" as having everything you need to live comfortably, and nothing more. You pay the bills, feed your kids, grow your savings and go to bed at night on sheets you got on sale at K-Mart (a small victory).

Never in life have I felt I didn't have the basics: food, clothes and my health. Until recently.

(This is going to sound like some big dramatic story, but it's not supposed to be. Bare with me.)

I recently had to see a doctor for chronic fatigue and a misbehaving heart. My seemingly imminent cure came in the form of a slew of appointments-- cardiologist, neurologist and a follow-up with the first doctor. I was so relieved that someone was going to be able to tell my why I had to sleep 12 hours every day in order to barely function.

And then my bouquet of balloons popped.

Of course I had to call Blue Cross New England to notify them of all this new medical stuff. After a web of phone calls between the insurance company, my mom and myself, turns out Blue Cross New England won't cover anything but an emergency room visit because the doctors here are outside the New England network.

So, tomorrow I'm canceling all those appointments. My parents had to pay the office visit fee of $170 up-front because my insurance would have nothing to do with it.

I can't do anything about my health problems until I'm on Elliot's health insurance in October.

I'm an American citizen who sought health care in the United States and I got the door shut in my face because I'm a full-time college student outside my insurance's network and I don't have thousands of dollars to get my heart and brain checked out. You can imagine how crappy my day was.

But I'm not writing a sob story about myself. If I'm pissed I can't do anything for six months, I can hardly imagine the lives of real-life, actually poor Americans who have never had insurance, health or dental. I felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me after my relatively not-a-big-deal experience, and there are millions of other people in these 50 states who wouldn't even be able to afford that one office visit.

The recent health legislation apparently is going to cost a bunch of money. And apparently everyone is going to be taxed, and apparently it's going to help a lot of people and improve their quality of life.

People will be pissed for a few weeks and find something else to complain about. Probably something related to reality television. In the mean time, people across the country are rejoicing because finally, finally... their kids can have an annual check-up, they can get a mammogram, they can get their mom's diabetes checked. All without cringing as they hand over the cash, as they sign the check and without working overtime to barely be able to pay for it.

Pride and Prejudice

The wind cut through my North Face knock-off and stung my bare toes (earlier the day struck me as one for flip-flops) while I waited outside the library to meet up with a stranger.

Don't worry, I was meeting him for the first time to tutor him, not to take free candy.

A few minutes passed, and naturally, and selfishly, I hoped I would get an "I can't come" text so I could trudge back to my apartment and return the circulation to my toes.

My position near the front door allowed me to observe every person approaching the library. With each new face my mind would whisper a wish, "Please not him..." or "Hopefully it's that guy?"

My inner thoughts seemed automatic until an especially drab and awkward looking student came on his merry way to pursue his education via the rented reference. By "drab and awkward" I mean he was very pale and not exactly dressed the the nines. I interpreted his skin tone as malnutrition and wardrobe choice (it may not have been a choice) as poverty.

If I had a thought bubble over my head, any anglophone near me would have witnessed the judgments and assumptions forming so erroneously in my head. I classified each person's worth according to what I perceived to be their socioeconomic class, based on their clothes and otherwise appearance.

In those dark moments of selfishness I didn't want to have to tutor a smelly student or someone with a lisp. I didn't want this new person to be a creeper or extremely fat. Those characteristics make someone abnormal and weird, which typically leaves them at the back of the social line.

But Jesus healed the weirdos. He had supper with hookers and his best friends were outcasts. So who am I to not want to help a smelly kid with a little Spanish?

As soon as my thoughts about the pale person dissolved, I realized what I was doing and immediately reset my attitude. First of all, I was being hypocritical. I was wearing a too-short jacket from Wal-Mart and flip-flops in February. Who looks more poor? On a more serious note, I know better than to judge anyone on any basis, let alone one I basically fabricated via appearances.

Definitely not one of my finest mental moments.

What's the morale of the story? I consider myself to be a relatively well-rounded person with few vices outside ice ream and babies. Despite a lifetime of education, sermons and the occasional History Channel special, at age 21 I'm still bucking a very basic teaching of Jesus: don't let your pride get in the way of your ministry.

Turn, turn, turn...

I've had a few great realizations over the last few years. Most of them involve miniature foods and ridiculous cakes.

Today, however, I had a realization that doesn't involve preheating to 350. Student government elections are right around the corner, which means the big wigs already elected into student government are campaigning for next year. One of the guys in my Spanish class is a candidate and was handing out persuasive, free pens with his name and tag line on them.

While I appreciated his gesture and the time he took to speak to us, at the end of the conversation I still felt pretty unconnected and quite frankly, I felt indifferent.

Oh, how much has changed in a year.

Campbell's student government used to piss me off a lot. I allowed myself to become entrapped in the web of pride and ego that student government (on any campus) weaves. I cared so much because school was my life. Also, at one time I was editor of the school paper and had to keep a close eye on events like elections, so I was especially aware of the wheeling and dealing.

Okay, back to my point. This year I have no interest in student government. I have no interest in most, if any, campus activities. My lack of curiosity and passion isn't a result of boredom or ill will for anything... it's just that my life has a different epicenter these days.

My college life doesn't revolve around social activities and cafeteria food anymore. It's about making the best of these last couple months, graduating with good grades, finding a job and preparing for newlywed life with Elliot.

I've come to realize that every day of college doesn't have to involve silly pranks, staying up late despite homework and getting by on Raman Noodles. There comes a point where you have to begin turning the page to the next chapter. Just to take a peek.

The Byrds got it right with their song, and King Solomon (or whoever) got it right in the Bible:

Ecclesiastes 3 (NIV)

A Time for Everything

¹ There is a time for everything,
and a season for every activity under heaven:

² a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,

³ a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,

⁴ a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,

⁵ a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

⁶ a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,

⁷ a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,

⁸ a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace.

And now is my time to uproot.

To Infinity, and Beyond!

Today is February 15. Graduation is May 15. In exactly three months my college career will be complete. Kaput. El fin.

In August of 2006 I arrived in Buies Creek blindly confident and unaware of, well, everything. My step-dad parked our family minivan behind Hedgpeth Hall, and my first steps onto campus were in that faded parking lot. My last steps as a student will take place across the stage in the new Convocation Center.

Hopefully I don't trip.

Graduating doesn't really scare me. I'm excited about moving to the next chapter in my life. I can finally realize my dream of becoming a legit journalist, not just a summer intern or campus newspaper writer. Not to mention a life with Elliot lies on the other side of graduation. I'll find a place to live and I'll find a job.

Optimistic? Yes. Just as much as I was my first days at Campbell, when I arrived with no friends and too many Red Sox t-shirts.

I've noticed a pattern in my life. I think about long-term changes, get scared, experience more life, and on the way God prepares me for the next step-- the same step I was so scared of only a few months prior. In December the thought of graduating and having to become "a real grown up" festered uncertainty and fear within me. Job, apartment, blah, blah.

I'm scared of the dark for the same reason I was scared of finishing school-- I don't like the unknown. I don't like not having control over my life.

Alas, the big man upstairs works out the knots of pride within in my heart, takes my hand once again and continues to lead me.

Old Blogs

If you want to check out my old blog, I would recommend the following posts. I like them, they're relevant and they give you a better idea of my writing and who I am. The Campbell posts are interesting if you have enough energy to care about the topics.

Is the U.S. a Christian Nation?

NUMB3RS

God's a Financial Planner, Too.

Round Two

I created my first blog as a medium to express my views on Campbell-related issues after completing two semesters as Editor-in-Chief of The Campbell Times. It was a place for a cathartic release of thoughts after catching wind of a lot of information I couldn't publish in the paper but felt the student body needed to know and/or understand.

After not posting anything on that blog since July, not only have I forgotten the password and can't log in, but many things in my life have changed that make the blog moot. Not only have I emotionally severed myself from university matters (aka I don't give a crap), but college will be over soon and I'll have more interesting things to write about. For example, getting married, moving permanently to North Carolina, and hopefully starting a job soon.

The main reason I have a blog, however, is to keep writing. A post may be about a hot button issue, or maybe just how much I love wide-leg pants. I'll also record the adventures I share with Elliot throughout our upcoming marriage. I don't expect anyone to care. I just like to write and share my thoughts with the world via blogging, the new form of global conversation.