Through Spring Break...(A Personal Reflection)

 Greetings, all. 

Spring break flourished with potential as blossoms swirled through the streets. For some, this 10-day (give or take) break allowed for miniature vacations, educational and occupational opportunities, and maybe even volunteer work.

For me, however, it was just monotonous time. I can’t provide an ever-intriguing article regarding my misadventures—or, lack thereof—but I can apprise you about my personal reflection as spring settles in the air. 

Last term: news reporting. This term: feature writing. I am ecstatic. Adjectives and flowery language have been my best friends for years, and ever more so now that I am venturing into two different writing “worlds.” As of now, I continue down the path of journalism with my head held high and my confidence expanding faster than I could have ever predicted. 

While I provided a few articles for the Commuter last term, my goals have, just like the tree-lined roads, blossomed into exemplary ambitions. I wish to write for the magazine, officially, and secure a place among their staff for the remaining years I have left at Linn-Benton. 

I find myself constantly torn between, perhaps, what I “should” be writing about and what I prefer to write about. As an avid movie-goer and lover of all things culture, art, and expedition, I like to type about subjects that interest me; to pick apart a horror scene on-screen; to inform about local (and far away) festivities; and to describe flavor, depth, and passion behind every plate of food. I see articles about the world’s ordeal today: sadness, chaos, destruction, and lies. I realize that, maybe, I need to act as more of an advocate for those who are less privileged to voice their concerns… And this is my true turmoil.

Regardless of where life takes me, I am thrilled for the unknown and for new paths to reveal themselves before my eyes. After all, writing is my life. I simply cannot imagine another universe where I am prohibited from placing words on paper.

On another, lighter note, I actually did spend a little bit of time participating in leisure activities. The first day of break was spent with my father, who is an enthusiastic antique shopper such as myself, as we roamed around Pirate’s Plunder in Newport. What grabbed my attention quite clearly was the array of animal skulls, pinned insects, vintage bottles, and diverse gemstones. I left the over-embellished building carrying my findings: a 1957 edition of “Screen World,” five DVDs, two vintage stereocards, and a pin of Bill Murray reminding me that “I’m awesome!”

And, just a few days ago, before classes sprang back into action, I spontaneously—and without any background knowledge—followed a road sign to Alsea Falls.* The hike lasted a lot longer than my boyfriend and I had anticipated, but we’re explorers, and so we often ventured off-trail and along the “beaten path.” We ignored the Alsea Falls sign and instead weaved our way to the Green Peak Falls an hour or two later. It was worth it. (Of course, pictures are featured below.)

Forests in Oregon smell different from other states’ forests. If I could bottle the scent, I would. Trillium lined the river for the entire mile-long trail. A little sulfur moth bid me good afternoon while trekking back. At the Falls, we scaled a steep, muddy, mossy hill with the help of a knotted rope. I stood close to the water, in the field of green moss, allowing droplets to kiss my clothing and skin… I pretended it was raining. Calm moments such as these, surrounded by nature and free of cellular service, inspire the writer emerging inside. 

With spring flourishing quaintly, and as time proceeds through each season with copious surprise, my aspirations will forever carry on alongside me. I have three, established for this term:

The first: as mentioned previously, to write for the Commuter, officially. 

The second: to genuinely grow and accomplish pieces I and my surrounding peers can be proud of. 

The third: though it may sound quaint and simple, I wish to not stress and continue being passionate about journalism. 

Perhaps I could add another, more unrealistic goal, which would consist of me traveling to another country—or two or three—and fully immersing myself within the culture, the experience, and the story. Taking anthropology, this term and last, has me convinced that this is the way to approach my journalism career. 

And with that being said, enough ranting for today. Thank you for tuning in, those of you who did. I wish everyone a wonderful spring season with much peace, love, and happiness.

Atop Green Peak Falls

As I stand on mossy Falls

Weaving through the trail

*A quick footnote here.
Spontaneity: performed or occurring as a result of a sudden inner impulse or inclination and without premeditation or external stimulus.

This was my New Year’s resolution for 2026. Being spontaneous. Life is full of unknowns and surprises. And, if you’re not careful, you may also resort to a bland routine.

Having moved often throughout my life, I find it difficult to stay in routine for long periods of time. Thus, I’m going to be spontaneous—or, be more than I already was. 

Start small, if it makes you uncomfortable, and expand from there. Traverse a road you’re unfamiliar with. Spark up a conversation with a stranger. Learn new things, experience what life has to offer.

This has been my recurring philosophy, and I encourage others to inhabit a similar reasoning.