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We live in a universe that is mesmerizing, stormy, and surprising. As a journalist, a storyteller, and an artist, I call out things that deserve attention or appreciation. I explore what it means to be human in this ever-changing world of ours.

 

Journalism has been my key to unlocking a door to opportunity, achievement, and the chance to make an impact on my school. It was when I was eating dinner with my staff in downtown Denver for the spring 2015 NSPA conference that I realized joining the newspaper staff was the best choice I could have made in high school. But, as with any journey, it was not without hurdles.

 

With our adviser and two-thirds of our previous staff gone at the beginning of my senior year, those who remained were less experienced and overall not quite used to working together. I walked into my role as co-Editor-in-Chief with big goals and big shoes to fill.

 

But passion is contagious. I tell my staff that we are the griots, with a power that we can use to do so much good for our community and tell the complex stories of the people within it. I show them examples of amazing journalism, beautiful designs and photography, sophisticated writing. And we unite through our shared enthusiasm.

 

I have worked to create a tight-knit group of students that are eager to tell the most daring, most interesting stories. When I walk into the publications room, B135, I greet my family, a group of great people and ambitious journalists that I watched grow tremendously over this past year. I spend my mornings talking with my staff, circulating around the room to make sure everyone has the expertise, resources, and inspiration to create quality content. Now, the once inexperienced staff is a group of bright, seasoned journalists. We don’t have the steady pace of clockwork, but I don’t think that’s ever possible in the world of journalism. What we do have is much more interesting anyway.

 

I’ve also been my own obstacle: writer’s block, constant fear of not living up to my own expectations, and throwing myself in the deep end of having to be conscious of every decision and its ethical implications – early on in my time as a journalist, I plunged right into the controversial stuff, which is, I think, content that really matters, because talking about taboo topics or sources of disagreement helps develop society.

 

Covering topics that were close to my heart turned out to exert a lot more pressure on me as a journalist than I had anticipated. This anxiety was worst when I wrote on a subject that I had wanted to investigate for a long time: mental illness. About a week and a half before the final deadline, I collapsed under the perpetual fear of not making this story as impactful and strong as I wanted it to be. But I forced myself to remember why I was doing it. I was leading this article to bring an important problem to the forefront of my community’s mind, to let those who have been suffering in silence scream their thoughts out loud.

 

Being a journalist has been a fundamental part of seeking out my identity.

 

I am a firm believer that if your dreams don’t scare you, they aren’t big enough. Being a student journalist has allowed me to accept my place in the world as a storyteller. With that realization came the desire to weave stories that evoke emotions, teach lessons, comment on the human condition, and help people fall under the hypnotizing spell of the world’s beauty.

 

I grew up assuming that, like my parents, I would get a well-paying, stable job as an engineer. Having a voice and giving a voice to others in high school forced me to realize that I needed to accept my role as a spokesperson for truth and inspiration; journalism has played an integral role in my life, showing me my true passions.

 

Making this decision to enter the turbulent world of professional storytelling was a leap of faith. Over the past few months, I have learned to trust my journey and relish the idea of studying my passion, surrounded by inspiration and new experiences to guide me along the way. I am shaped by the world just as I aspire to shape it myself.

 

I sometimes think of myself as Alice, of The Lake as my rabbit hole. The world I fell into transformed the way I think; it helped me see the world for all of its chaos and poignancy and magnificence.