I honestly never thought I would be here. Of course—I knew, but it didn’t seem real until now. Now, as I write my last article for The Muhlenberg Weekly. I first joined the Weekly the second semester of my Freshman year—and I was so excited. Was it all I thought it would be? In some cases, maybe not—in others, most definitely. Blood, sweat and literal tears are put into this paper, day in and day out, and every once in awhile I ask myself ‘is this even worth it?’
But then I would get to here; the end of the line. And as the relief settles into my very being, I realize how proud I am. It is amazing how far this paper has come, and I thank circumstances that I was able to see it grow every step of the way. As I think back though, this paper has been my one true constant in my four years here at Muhlenberg. Friends come and go, classes begin and end, homework is not as eternal as we think it is, and even the campus itself changes shape over time. Yet every Tuesday production roles around, on the dot, and all of these people from different backgrounds gather to work on this one glorious project. Students who would probably not know each other if it wasn’t for the paper.
To the Weekly I say, treasure this. In the times when everything seems impossible, and terrifying, to a point where you just want to quit—remember that what you’re doing here, what you’re working for, is worth it. The Weekly is worth it.
During my sophomore year, I lost a very close family member—my grandfather, Peter Mazur. At the time, it was a lot to process. I felt unable to really comprehend what had happened and tried to continue my schooling as normally as possible. During a particularly stressful production night, I ended up having to write an unorthodox article to fill my section. I decided to write about death as a concept in art and literature.
The process itself was very therapeutic; I ended up writing a personal message for my grandfather—despite the article being primarily about Dante’s Inferno. I cried for a long time that night.
The article remains a very important memento to me, and I find myself re-reading it when I feel the most vulnerable. It’s become one of my treasures—and I suppose this is my point.
Each person who contributes to The Weekly has these little treasures, moments where we feel we need, we must, write for someone to read and at least try to understand. So much emotion and passion is put into every issue—and every day we try a little harder to make it that much better.
But enough of my rambling; what do I leave you with now? Here, at the end of the line.
Words are your strength and your weakness. Embrace them as they are. They are our means of communicating are deepest fears and passions; however, it is often difficult to always know the right words to say. It’s important to never forget this. When a writer comes to you for help, you as an Editor are there to help them.
Entertainment is essential. After those long hours of writing, reading, editing and re-reading—don’t forget some music. Engage in conversation. Maybe play a card game or two. Sometimes when we’re working for hours on end—you need to make home out of the newsroom.
Environment is everything. We’ve developed such a positive and wonderful working team that always comes in ready for a new issue, a new topic, and a new chance for improving our sections. Don’t take this lightly.
Know your limits. Sadly we can’t do everything at once. Recognize this, give yourself time, and always take care.
Love what you do. You do amazing work, and it does matter. Don’t forget that.
You’ve got this! I think this speaks for itself. All of you are so talented, smart, and so passionate about your lives. Own it. The Weekly is filled with yours and many other treasures that need to be polished and published for all of campus to read-and especially learn.
Here I am, at the end of the line, and I have just one more piece of advice to share.
This is your time my friends; make it count.