An Introduction: Sara Says

It’s funny: if you’re someone who hasn’t spent a lot of time with me, you probably wouldn’t think that I’m the type of person who likes to talk a lot. You probably think I’m quiet or shy or one of those people who just isn’t really that opinionated.

The funny part of all of that is that I am and am not those things all at the same time. I really can be kind of shy, and the proof is in my shaking hands when I have to give a presentation or when I’m in a room with a bunch of people that I don’t know.

But I can also be pretty loud (and not just when I’m watching TV with my roommates). I can be opinionated and snarky and obsessively nerdy, someone who literally will not stop talking about history or bears or the queso from Moe’s. And sure, my roommates get a healthy dose of this every day, but mostly it goes into Word documents or random notes on my iPhone. So I am loud, but only on paper.

So now, as I’m on the brink of leaving college and heading into the real world of Internet journalism and social media, I’m practicing putting that stuff in my head here, on this literal newspaper page, and honestly I’m pretty scared about that.

I’m scared that all these years, my professors have been lying to me about being a good writer, scared that one issue I’ll have nothing to write about and scared that someday I’ll have something really cool to write about but everyone else mostly thinks it’s dumb. I’m scared that after all of this practice refining my writing skills, I’m going to graduate from this college and every magazine or website will still think I’m dumb and I’m going to spend the rest of my life writing manuals or something like that.

So I think this week I’m just going to introduce myself to you because I hope that if we become friends (either literally or simply through this page), maybe I won’t be so scared of writing the wrong thing. I introduce myself because I know that I am all that I have.

So hi. I’m Sara. I’m a senior here at Assumption, history major, English minor, Valley resident, dance team captain and (duh) an editor for the Provoc. I’m obsessed with teddy bears, Beauty and the Beast, the color yellow, those chocolate-covered fruit things that you can buy at Target and The Daily Show (in case you were wondering, Jon Stewart was my first celebrity crush). My favorite band is Vampire Weekend, my favorite part of history is anything related to World War II and my favorite part of the Winter Olympics is the ladies’ super-combined in alpine skiing.

But my most important favorite thing is writing, something that I think stemmed from my love for reading. You see, I love to read because without fail there’s always at least one line that I feel like the author took from inside of my soul. My words and my feelings came out of his pen. I want to be a writer because I want to do that to other people. I want to remind them that we’re all connected by pretty much the same exact set of emotions, that when they feel overwhelmed I might be feeling overwhelmed too. I want to be a writer because I want to remind people that there’s a beautiful uniformity and predictability about the human race.

So I guess I’ll leave you all with my hopes for this column this year. It isn’t really anything special—just things that I have to say, hence the title. But I still think it has the ability to do something.

I hope it can teach me how to write with the same kind of bravado and strength and confidence with which I can do other things. Conversely, I hope that it teaches me how to tear my personality off of the page and show it to other people.

And I hope that someday when you’re reading this column, you feel the unexplainable joy and magic and comfort of having someone take the words that they wrote out of your soul. I hope I can remind you of that uniformity and predictability of the human race and I hope that you find it beautiful, too.

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One thought on “An Introduction: Sara Says

  1. […] When I began this column back in September, I told you all this: I know that who I am is all that I have. That was all I seemed to know at the time that I started editing with the Provoc, and it was the main thing I had learned in college. But now, seven months later, I seem to know a little bit more—that words have a fickle way of sticking out of everything, of not wanting to bend to the circumstances you have, that sometimes they’re going to fail you, and others they’re going to run like a leaky faucet onto a page and you won’t be able to stop them. […]

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