Good in goodbyes

College has been a journey of gradually changing my outlook. As someone who has experienced a fair amount of flubs, I have been forced to internalize my mistakes differently in an act of self-preservation. During my freshman year, I failed at adjusting to life away from home and maintaining a balance — above all else, I felt that I had failed myself. My parents had begrudgingly accepted my choice to attend UC Berkeley, and I felt the pressure to succeed in every way when the reality was that I felt I had done the opposite.

I insisted that my college experience could be a cliche ideal, which prevented me from admitting my struggles to my family. It was isolating, and I was too far in denial to concede this to my old support system. Without anyone to express this to, I was in my head a lot. I was my harshest critic and worst enemy, and I was crumbling mentally because I took everything in and wallowed in the negativity. But as the years wore on, I learned to — and continue to — remind myself that my so-called failures are lessons, and that from those, I can grow.

This subtle yet profound change in perspective was supported by the people I have been lucky enough to surround myself with. When I felt my most detached and alone, it was always the people around me who made it easier. I remember late nights well into the hour of 5 a.m. eating Hawaiian bread or ranting about the smallest inconveniences. I recall weekly Friday night dinners with introspective talks that ended with Taiwanese desserts. I reminisce over lunches on campus between classes and having such a good time that I forgot to go to said classes. Moments like these provided a foundation that made me feel more secure.

My friends’ listening ears and openness to all of me were the sources of strength I needed to allow myself to believe I was above my own lowest thoughts. Internalizing my failures was something I had to transform into an attitude of acknowledgement and pushing forward. My friends helped pull me out of my ruts without realizing how much their presence in my life meant to me.

The summer I first became an editor gave me a definitive stake in something meaningful. I gripped on to that feeling and treasured it closely, knowing how rare it was. Working for The Daily Californian forced me to apply my big life lesson of moving forward and meeting things head-on. When deadlines are constantly looming (and unfortunately often missed, despite our best efforts), the work piles up. News doesn’t stop, the paper still prints and content is in continuous circulation.

Schoolwork has deadlines and definitive ends. Clicking “submit” on an assignment or handing a stack of papers to a GSI marks the conclusion of the task. But the Daily Cal has no ends. It will take as much as you are prepared to give it, whereas schoolwork asks for pieces of you in discrete amounts. Being an editor forced me to be more organized because I was in control of a multitude of moving parts when I, myself, was one of the many moving parts of the paper as a whole. There was a bond among the staff created through mutual passion and suffering for something we knew was bigger than the individual. Journalism is important. The responsibility of a publication to uphold quality and integrity is heavy.

I’m sure everybody in the Daily Cal office has heard me say something about how underrated visuals are. It’s perhaps a bit shameless, but I also see it as an indisputable fact. In an increasingly visual age, first impressions are significant — illustrations, layouts and infographics reach a viewer’s eyes before the words do. Our work pays respect to our own standards of quality, but is also an homage to the words and work of others. The way something looks may not be the first thing that comes to mind, but it is this subconscious manipulation that I find both fascinating and beautiful.

When working in such a high-pressure environment, I’ve had no choice but to take the numerous mistakes that slip through the cracks in stride and keep working with the mentality that I will do better next time. There is no time to stew over mistakes when there is more to be done and there are more opportunities to prove myself again. The work I did every day put into practice the attitude I cemented into my head: Move on, you’ll do better, it’ll be OK. But this is in no way a solo pursuit. I’ve never had the joy or honor of working with a team more cohesive, hilarious, talented, organized and loving than the design editors. Because of them, the office was not just a place of work, but also a source of comfort. The confidence I developed came easily when I knew they were with me. Kaitlan, Alex, Connor and Emily, thank you for multiple semesters of friendship.

I have always been the kind of person who would rather distract myself from my problems with other work. I’m finally at a point where the work isn’t there to comfort me anymore.

My mentality may have shifted into one of greeting things with a different attitude, but instead of a greeting, this is a farewell. I’m departing a campus that has defined my life for the past couple of years, and it hurts more than I ever thought it would. I believe I’m stronger now than I was before, and it’s taking a great deal of this strength to accept that this is bye. I can’t be more grateful for the fact that this is a good bye.