JULES HOEPTING
Managing Editor
The first sentence of my last article for The Leader. And now it’s the second sentence. After editing over 200 articles, designing 23 issues and 702 pages, and having written 29 — now 30 — articles, the slippery sun sunk into the horizon and dawn will come upon another e-board. Some new members, some old. Rearranging, changing, but kinda staying the same, the way people do.
So, now what? Well, to quote 18-year-old me applying for SUNY Fredonia, thinking about my future washes up “numerous uncertainties that are as unsettling as rapids in a river. I am certain, however, that I like to write, and like an oar to a boat, I am certain that the power of words will aid me throughout life’s cataracts.”
Indeed, I still don’t know what my greater purpose is, but I know I adore playing with words.
I really love metaphors — especially water metaphors. I still love 18-year-old me, but that version of me has been eroded into a new shape. Same rock, but different layers exposed, the youngest in particles down the river. And at some point I’ll be all particles, settling into the rockbed, waiting to start all over again. Transfer of Jules, of joules, of energy, forevermore.
I could tell 18-year-old me things about 22-year-old me that would flabbergast 18-year-old me.
You know how you used to pretend you were a radio jock, pausing CDs in-between songs and providing commentary? You had your own show on WCVF. FM 88.9 for six semesters. You made promos. You provided the weather report — which you made very entertaining — for eight semesters.
You know how you like mountains? You ended up living in the Canadian Rockies for a whole summer and it was filled with the highest peaks of your life. And not just literally.
You know how historical events happen? There’s this thing called COVID-19 that took over half of your college experience and forever changed the world.
You know that canal by the name of Erie you liked to hang out near as a kid? You decided to walk all 300 miles of it — technically twice — during the pandemic and now you have a niche interest in water ditches most can’t understand.
You know that student-run newspaper by the name of The Leader you picked up during lunch at Cranston and thought it would be cool to design it? You ended up becoming not only the Design Editor, but also the Managing Editor. And you ended up writing some articles that were of significant value to the community. You felt more appreciated at that paper than anywhere else on campus. You learned more from that paper than in any class on campus.
Speaking of classes… you know how you like… like everything in the communication field? You took 27 classes worth of it. A bunch of them for fun.
You know how you and your momma are best friends? You keep finding more and more ways you took after her. It’s more intricate than looks and voice.
You know those crazy-talented students that receive high honor awards given out to a few students across campus every year? Floating on some orbit you could never be in? Turns out, some of your professors thought you were in that league — composed of more stardust and starpower than you think of yourself — and that you’d end up receiving a SUNY Chancellor’s Award for Student Excellence. I’m still flabbergasted by that one.
But there are things that would disappoint 18-year-old me. You still struggle to make close friendships, but have a lot of acquaintances. You’re still kinda terrified of relationships. You still have a procrastination habit. You still struggle with food. You still are bad at doing things unless other people depend on you doing those things. You still work weekends and sometimes — just sometimes — like that it’s an excuse not to feel lonely when other people go out and have fun.
But overall you’re doing really good. In fact, you’re just at the point where you’re very comfortable at this school and are known and respected by a lot of people. Where you can walk around and exchange smiles and waves and feel a sense of belonging — that vitamin you go through phases of being deficient in. And now you have to leave this tiny ecosystem where you’ve found your niche and you’ve got to go and start another era in your life.
You knew this would happen. You hoped this would happen. The unfortunate, natural, brutal, beautiful thing is now it’s happening.
As for advice? I can’t give you any you haven’t already heard. Things like “get involved” and “make the most out of your experience” are true. Work hard and be positive. Call it cliche, title it tried and true. Perspective changes everything. Your perspective is your reality.
Choose wisely. Trust your old soul.
