It is customary for graduating senior editors to write a goodbye editorial as their final sign off from The Bona Venture. Here is my published attempt at a goodbye to one of the greatest influences on my journalism career to date.
I’m not very good at this.
The whole writing about myself thing was never my strong suit. I’ve never splashed myself across the pages of The Bona Venture with any lessons learned. I’ve never mentioned a personal detail or a life lesson which imparted words of wisdom in an editorial.
Words of wisdom?
Please, I’m still trying to figure out Internet banking. I’ve called the bank’s service company for my password at least eight times this semester.
Not to mention cleaning my room and doing laundry typically count as real accomplishments for a day. I even check it off the to-do list to feel like a champ. Nothing more exciting than crossing that s– off in a vibrant lime green highlighter.
Oh, I’ve got some things down – the ones necessary for survival.
As you read this editorial, you may assume I’ve managed to successfully wade my way through a college career. A diploma may assume the role of “extra” in the need for survival game, like a Game Boy. Unless you factor in my parents – then, it is akin to breathing.
Cardiac arrest! Defibrillator!
I do attempt to emulate adult-like behavior. I buy a planner, create lists, make out an exercise chart and follow it like a dedicated productive person high on accomplishment and being well-adjusted.
The emotional pendulum swings high in ‘I got this’ gear.
It crumbles about two weeks in with a Domino’s pizza devoured at 10:30 p.m.
Regardless of the haphazard example I project of a human being, I’ve learned a few things over the past four years at Bonaventure. Surround your personal life with people who accept you and take you as you are.
Seems simple – rarely is.
Procrastination should have been a four-letter word. Don’t do it. This editorial is six days late. Is “do as I say, not as I do” too cliché for the moment?
Regardless, your anxiety attack over waiting until two hours before a paper is due to write it can be avoided. Just think of it as the potholes behind the Reilly Center – you will get swallowed whole eventually.
And for the love of God, sleep eight hours a night if you can. One all-nighter impairs your judgment to the equivalent of driving legally drunk. (I learned it somewhere in the tangled heap of Clare College.)
If you have a perverse sense of humor over accidentally wandering into adulthood or had a laugh over this editorial, you may also be attempting the awry science experiment labeled adulthood. But hey, what do I know? The main food group in my life is cheese.