I never thought I would dream about working at the Oracle. The carpet has at least 30 years on me; I have zero trust for the fridge, and even less trust for the “microwave.” There’s a tree next to the Student Publication office, which, in case you didn’t know, is two stories below cellphone service and the light of the sun.
Nonetheless, I frequently dream about working here. Like, I have actual dreams where we are all running around writing, typing and designing. I wake up from dreams like this, and immediately roll over and jot down ideas in the notes on my phone.
After late nights, I walk back to my room laughing hysterically with Raegan, and often just lie on the floor and breathe. I have to pull myself out of being so engaged before trying to sleep or the dreams I’m talking about will come.
The goal of my job for the past two years was to reach you, the reader—or any reader, which is really a limitless concept, and I get to do it with some great minds and better people.
There is tangible stress, deadlines and pressure in creating the newspaper. It’s here; two stories below the ground, that I’ve seen great writers come out forged, and stories fall flat. This process has shown me time and time again that failure is imminent, and recovery is way more impressive than ultimate perfection.
When I started here, I had everything figured out. But now, looking face-to-face with graduation in a few weeks, absolutely none of that is the same. Yet I am a better doer, and a better person in the vocation that has brought me to write this page today. It’s the pursuit of writing that has taken me across the country and to creative places in my own mind I’d never dreamed. And now I dream all the time in the day, to write books and make projects—to be a part of greater things.
Although I can’t attest my career choice or growth solely on the Oracle, I am certain that through its processes and disciplines I have learned more about who I am—more of who I will choose to become beyond its boundaries.
Creativity has been cultivated within this publication that I cannot explain. I can truly say that being here will hold value in my heart for years beyond what I’ve been allowed to give.
More importantly, I leave confident that this thing stands in the most prominent place it possibly could. There is more to come as I move forward, because it means that, at long last, the paper will be handed to the best leaders its ever had. The Oracle, post-2018 commencement now holds more space for that cultivated place that we made this year—that darn place that keeps me dreaming.