All good things...

Another conversation with myself...

As a kid, I used to think a lot about space. I used to marvel at how big it seemed; the sheer size and space it represents used to just boggle my mind. It still marvels me whenever I think deep enough about how big the universe really is. I mean, no matter how long you lived, you wouldn't be able to visit every single star in the sky. It's just crazy to me to think that so much else is going on the universe, so much so that everything we do here really amounts to nothing. That our entire existence is nothing more than a single molecule of H20 in the ocean. It was both frightening and interesting at the same time. I still marvel at all of that.

When I found out that by the time the majority of light from the stars the reaches us here that the star has already probably gone supernova and doesn't exist anymore, I was just amazed even more. Just the amount of sheer time it took for the light of a star to reach us dumfounded me, and to this day I still am amazed and in a little disbelief. Everything we see in the sky is just a snapshot, a picture of what once was. It exists, but only to us, and to anyone else who could have caught a glimpse.

But one thing that used to trouble me the most was what, if ever possible, would we encounter at the end of the universe? Some things I dreamed up were that at the end of universe, there would be just a wall not much unlike the walls of my room. I also used to dream of unending blackness.

I never really thought that the universe was infinite, even in my younger days I didn't think that. Everything must end, I reasoned. Indeed, the universe may seem infinite, and by scale of feasible time it would take to reach from one end to the other, it may as well be infinite. But there is an end. There is always an end.

Every time I move on from something that I have been doing for a long time, I always seem to be reminded of those thoughts I had as a kid about how the end of the universe would look like. When I graduated high school a whole year ago now (seems like so much longer...), we had this thing called Grad Night, where almost all of us seniors were locked up in a school to hang out and party all night. There were parts of the school that you could be outside, although still locked up in the school. I remember looking up at the star-filled sky, and for a little while I channeled that little boy inside of me who used to look up at the sky every night and think about the past, the present, and what was to come. Indeed, for a little while, I was very scared. Where would I be a year from that moment? Would I go anywhere? Would I do anything with my life?

Yeah, it's way too early to answer most of those questions, but once again, I find myself at the edge of another end. It isn't a dead end, rather, it should be just the door at the end of a long hallway of pain and suffering that somehow resulted in my finding what I wanted to do with my life; the career choice I found for myself.

What I am talking about is the fact that after the end of this school semester, I will no longer be a part of the Express school newspaper anymore. That breaks an almost three year streak where in some way or form I was involved in the a newspaper somehow, whether at the HUB in high school, or the Express in college.

I already signed up for all my classes for next semester, and while I may switch around some classes a little later before the spring semester starts, I know for a fact that none of the classes I will be taking will have anything to do with journalism.

I guess you could say I reached the highest point I could reach, so why should I be all melancholy and stuff? Well, it never really hit me at all this semester that I was the editor in chief of something. I just didn't feel like the boss. It wasn't my style of leadership to be the unquestioned boss, I just wanted to learn along with everyone else as the semester flew by. But I noticed many times this semester that this philosophy failed me miserably. People want someone to give them direction, people want someone to be the hardass and tell them exactly what to do, no matter how much they cry and complain about you later. It's one of the catch-22's of leadership, you've just got to be jerk and piss some people off, or you'll just be a floor mat and people will be pissed off because they think you aren't doing anything.

I remember the advisors Doug and Dianne talking about how being an editor, any editor for that matter not just the big guy in charge, will really tell you something about yourself and whether you want to continue in this journalism business. When I first got word that I got the job as News editor last semester, I thought back to all those days when I was a measly reporter who did the dirty work for my editors. I know that some of my editors were great and wonderful people who I would work under in a heartbeat if I could, but there were some who just didn't seem like they wanted to be editor, and didn't seem like they knew what they were doing. The worst part was that they pretended to know what they were doing most of the time. In high school and college, I don't think anyone who holds any sort of higher position over others can act that way in a learning environment. I knew promised myself that if I ever got any higher position if I advanced in this field at this level, I wouldn't act in that way at all. To me, at this level of things, everything is a learning experience, even though we are told that we are learning as we are practicing the same type of journalism that the pros do, since there are no minor leagues.

Anyway, from all the bad experiences, and good ones, I tried to mold my personality into what I thought of as the ideal college newspaper editor. Being a news editor didn't discourage me at all from being a journalist. But, when I was announced as editor in chief last semester, I didn't take it seriously at all. It was to me, it was only the next logical step I had to take. Nothing more. I took a full load of classes, thinking I would be able to balance everything. Like usual, I was wrong.

At the moment, only half of my classes remain. I'd rather not go into all the reasons I dropped them, but let's just say that there is a curse on every editor in chief who serves at the Express. Something will disrupt your semester and screw you over.

But now, here I am, at the end. Wednesday is the last production day that I will be a part of here. From then on out, this newspaper will be the care of another crew, with their own stories to tell. I am not sad for that, in fact, I look forward to see just what exactly the next staff will bring. But, I am beginning to be saddened when I think of all the things I set out to do ever since I was just a little budding reporter in high school.

Indeed, this is not the end of my journalism career, far from it. It's just, I believe this is the end of this chapter of my journalism career. From here on out, I can only go down again, to a reporter on an actual newspaper, working for editors whose career it is to produce a newspaper. Like I stated earlier, being an editor at this level hasn't extinguished the fire inside of me that makes me want to be a journalist the rest of my life. But it sure as hell given me a new perspective on things.

Yet, I can't help but think about how these next few days represent the end of all I've worked for these past three years. Indeed, it has actually been much longer, if I count the time time when I was on the little pathetic elementary school newspaper back in 4th, 5th, and 6th grade. Rather, I am counting the time when I rediscovered my love of this profession back in 11th grade.

(Time for a little story) For the longest time, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. With 11th grade fast approaching, with that being the year most people scope out colleges and fill out their applications with extracurriculars and stuff like that, I felt I had to choose something. When I found out that the teacher who used to advise that little elementary school newspaper would be teaching this journalism class at the high school, I jumped at the opportunity to see her again. Indeed, I always tell people I had a little crush on my high school journalism teacher which resulted indirectly in rekindling my love for journalism. Indeed, it is true, but not the only reason I fell in love with journalism again.

You see, if you know me, I am probably the farthest thing from you would think of as a journalist. I am very quiet, I don't necessarily like talking to new people, new places scare me, I wasn't the best writer, etc etc. But, whenever I went into journalist mode, I completely changed. It was a way for me to break out of my shell, if only for the time I had my journalist hat on.

Anyway, I still remember the person I was way back when I was first starting out, and now that I've reached the end, I think about that time more and more. What have I accomplished since then? Have I done anything? Has this all been a waste of time? What if I don't get a professional job, will it mean that I am not ready yet? So many questions without answers are racing through my head at the moment, I don't even remember half of them. But more than a few are making me panic.

All good things...

Yes, this whole experience has been for the better, I must tell myself. I don't know if I believe it yet, but I feel like I must keep telling myself that. When things come to an end, you've got to just look back at what you have seen. Whether it was the entire universe, or the universe according to yourself. Of course there were a shit load of things you missed, but there would have been no way possible to do everything you want, just like it would be impossible to visit every star in the universe. All good things must come to an end. But that doesn't mean that there aren't better things to come. Hopefully there is more out there, not just unending blackness.

So, what's next?