Thursday, May 22, 2025
“How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” – Winnie-the-Pooh
Per usual, Winnie was right on the money.
This past Saturday, I graduated from Georgetown University with a major in English and a double minor in journalism and film & media studies. Ever since I first stepped foot on the Hilltop four years ago, I’ve wondered what this momentous occasion would feel like once it finally arrived. Now, at long last, I finally have my answer: bittersweet.
For the past few months, I’ve managed to put off many of the big, scary feelings that normally accompany an impending college graduation—in part out of some good ole fashioned denial I’m sure, but mostly on account of sheer necessity. This semester, there’s simply been too much on my plate to fully focus on the myriad of ways my life was about to change.
My senior spring has been defined by passion projects. For my English major, I completed an 85 page Honors thesis, for which I wrote a magical realist novel excerpt about the entertainment industry. For my film and media studies minor, I wrote and directed a short film called “Alchemy” about two best friends in college—one of whom has a peculiar (albeit disastrous) knack for potion making. Lastly, for my journalism minor, I wrote a 5,000 deep-dive on the evolution of gender dynamics on ‘Survivor,’ an investigative project which involved interviewing former contestants (including two-time winner Sandra Diaz-Twine!) and college professors who teach entire courses dedicated to the beloved reality tv behemoth.
While working on these creative endeavors has been endlessly fulfilling and joyful, when I finally submitted my last assignment and emerged from my productivity daze, I was genuinely shocked to look at my calendar and realize that graduation was only a week away. All of a sudden, I found myself confronted by a deluge of lasts: the last day of classes, the last chapter meeting for my sorority, the last time hosting my radio show “Strawberry Jam!” in the Georgetown Radio booth.
Realizing just how terrifyingly little time I had left in college, in the days leading up to graduation, I gave myself full permission to let my inbox pile up. Finally able to slow down and savor the moment, I spent Senior Week surrounded by my best friends round the clock. I joined the senior class for a day-long picnic and barbecue at Smokey Glen Farm. I danced my heart out at Senior Ball, held this year in Union Station. The morning of graduation, my roommates and I woke up at the crack of dawn to watch the sunrise at the Lincoln Memorial in our pajamas alongside the rest of the senior class.
When this long-awaited day finally arrived, it was both exhilarating and emotionally exhausting. On one hand, walking across the stage and receiving my diploma was a relieving exhale—after countless sleepless, concerningly-caffeinated nights, I had finally done it! And yet, as soon as I returned to my seat, I couldn’t help but cry—this once-in-a-lifetime experience was over.
Over the past four years, Georgetown has been a place of love, somewhere I’ve been able to nurture my creative passions and connect with incredible individuals who have changed my life for the better. It’s true what they say—the people make the place—and I suppose that’s been one of the hardest things for me to come to terms with throughout all of this. While I will be able to return to Georgetown in the coming years, I will never be able to return to the Georgetown I know. The people who make Georgetown what it is for me will be scattered all around the world. That feeling of walking across campus and perpetually running into people you know, people who care about you enough to flash a smile, to stop and chat, to compliment your outfit, to wish you good luck on your presentation later, to remind you that a part of their heart belongs to you—though I can physically come back here, that feeling won’t be waiting for me. Still, I know that that love is not simply evaporating into thin air. It might not wait for me on campus anymore, but it’s only a phone call away.
Now that I am officially a Georgetown alumna, there’s one question burning a hole in the back of my brain—a question which just so happens to also be a famous quote from a D.C. classic that is near and dear to my heart—‘The West Wing’: What’s next?
Honestly, as of right now, I am not entirely sure, but there is one thing of which I am certain: I want to continue storytelling, in whatever form that may take.
On the night before my graduation, I had the chance to attend Georgetown University’s President’s Dinner as the plus-one of my best friend, Rachel. There, we had the chance to meet many of our commencement speakers, including, to my delight, R. F. Kuang: a Georgetown grad turned award-winning novelist whose career, poise, and remarkable command of the English language I sincerely admire.
During the evening, Rachel and I also had the chance to chat with Emmy-Award-winning actor Henry Winkler ahead of his speech at our graduation ceremony the next morning. In conversation with The Fonz (a phrase I truly never thought I would say), Winkler asked me what I hoped to be doing after graduation. When I shared with him that I wanted to be a writer, he responded with the following, heartfelt advice: there’s going to be so many people who are going to say no, but you have to keep writing from the heart in spite of all of it. While for many, the prospect of diving headfirst into an industry where rejection is so commonplace might be off-putting and fearful, my sincere enthusiasm about facing this challenge head-on reassures me that I am pursuing the path I was always meant to follow.
My time at The Georgetowner has also reaffirmed my certainty that I want to be a writer. I first started writing for The Georgetowner as an intern in the fall of my junior year, and now, nearly two years later, I am an Associate Editor with dozens of articles under my belt. I could not be more grateful to have gotten my start as a professional journalist in such an encouraging environment anchored by passion and teamwork. To the The Georgetowner team, I truly cannot thank you all enough.
Yes, the rest of my future is still unwritten (cue the Natasha Bedingfield song!), but I could not be more thrilled to discover what this next chapter has in store for me. While this is certainly a daunting time to be entering the workforce, I am choosing to remain hopeful during my job hunt. If I’ve learned anything during my time at Georgetown, it’s this: things always have a way of working out—oftentimes better than you ever could have imagined.