I just wanted the office.


When I was a freshman in high school, my dad, brother and I went to visit my Grandmother at her nursing home. It was September, and I had just joined my schools newspaper, The Journal. Knowing this, my dad turned to my grandmother and said, “Emily just started writing for her schools paper. She’s going to be the next big journalist!”

To this I responded, “Hell no.”

Thank God for my grandma’s lack of hearing or I would have heard a thing or two about using curses. But whenever someone asks my why I went into journalism I think of this scene. Me sitting cross legged, in my ripped jeans and converses while my dad boasted about how I was going to be running CNN after attending all  three of my papers meetings.

I always loved writing, creative and fiction writing mostly, so when I went to the first few meetings of The Journal I was ridiculously lost.

Of course all I had done was attend meetings. When I finally wrote my first article, I watched it get ripped to pieces line by line by my editor. After this I decided I was going to join theater instead.

Until I saw the office.

The office, in all honesty, was disgusting. It was old, it was small, it smelled like moldy cheeetos and dirty coffee. However, it had a long table for meetings, a dry erase board for tracking articles, and comfortable office chairs, complete with wheels for bumper- chair fights. It was the official meeting room of The Journal’s staff writers and editors, exclusive only to them. No students, no teachers, no administration, and no rules.

I wanted to get into that office. No, I needed to get into the office.

By sophomore year I was a staff writer, and by my senior year I was an editor. I don’t remember when, but somewhere along my four year journey in the Journal I completely forgot about why I even joined. Yes I enjoyed writing, and sure I dreamed for the glorious office, but I stuck with journalism because I fell in love with it.

Of course now, writing five articles a week on top of classes and homework, there are times I question my sanity in choosing journalism. But I could never regret my decision to do journalism, because I could not see myself doing anything else.


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