When I took this column on, I simply wanted to write about something different each time. Nothing political, nothing mass media-prompted. Nothing of the nebbish and nerdy normal. More about getting out of the library and off campus; the possibility of a life beyond the to-do list.
The Sampling then, was simple. Try new things. Especially here, especially now.
I admit, this was hard for me sometimes. Indeed, I once had little more to write about than an all-nighter, with Adderall and long-haul trucker juice in the mix. This is because I am both disorganized and prone to debilitating stress, so complaints about the black-and-blue of schoolwork prefaced most of my columns. I know it was repetitive — I’m sorry. I made it up Route 79, down Route 13 and sundry route-less places often enough. So, the column became a real shot in two years of my Cornell arm.
As a lonely and aimless freshman, perusing the paper and absent-mindedly slurping stir-fry at Risley, The Sun gave my monster university the shape and face I craved and I have read it every day, ever since. For better or worse, the columns were always my favorite part — I imagined them to be representatives of the Big Red community, with a better grasp on university life than I did. I thought the columnists hung out in a smoky Collegetown bar, sparred with each other, while stewing ideas for their next column, which would then just shimmy through without a single edit. Or something like that.
It’s a little different, but almost as romantic. If it weren’t for Carlos’ occasional boozy potlucks and earnest bar tab invitations, I would never have met the other pixilated black and white faces of these pages (nice people!). I’ve befriended some Sun staffers over the years, but mostly manage a wave at the deskers when I go down for my bi-monthly meeting with the editor. In some ways, I’m not really part of this newspaper. Also, perhaps strangest of all, I have little idea of who my readers are and I’m never really sure who I’m writing for at Cornell. Solo and faceless is the work of the columnist.
For this reason, I’ve often felt more like a correspondent, writing from afar, to people at home, of my experience as a dot in Big Red. It’s weird, but it’s Cornell. Even as a senior, our campus still seems vast and unknowable, and there are many things I did not get around to doing — I never rushed for a sorority, did lab research, played a varsity sport, saw a dignitary speak, immersed my hand in a cow’s stomach or went sake-bombing in Collegetown. Most importantly, I never got to know some of my classmates better.
But, it’s O.K. My time here has been as full as it could be with good friends, bullfights, formals, tanning beds, gossip, farming, the Shortline Bus, falling in love, working at a Café and, of course, writing this weird and exciting thing. Now, I’m ready to go and I’m lucky to have a document of two years at Cornell, for Cornell. Thank you.
Even if a few weeks too early … A special goodbye to the Green Dragon Café, employees and customers (less to the customers). THANKS to Professors Davis, Toorawa, Brann, McClane and Fakundiny. Public Journal people for your patience and enthusiasm. Carlos, for taking your time. Gordon, for pushing me to write. The Boys: Mike, Louis, Pete and Elliot for the back and forth between 414 and 504. It was the best. People who have welcomed me into their homes. Fe, De, Gabi, Ale, Sosso, pelo unrelenting apoio. David, for your energy. Mummy, Daddy, Camila and Sofia, for everything. Olivia, future columnists — good luck.
Erin Geld is a senior in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be contacted at esg24@cornell.edu [1]. The Sampling appeared alternate Wednesdays.
Links:
[1] mailto:esg24@cornell.edu