letter editor from the

of 2022 tipsy on the New Year’s Resolution tonic, I had to turn the times into quieter ones. I focused on my classes, on The Commuter, on being a good friend, daughter, sister, aunt. And get this — all of that quiet work? All of those little steps taken to the beat of consistency? They are what inevitably led to the aforementioned, seemingly mythical, leaps and bounds of my year. They made it possible for me to obtain the successes I did, to harness big opportunities. I look back at those hard months and love that they existed. That January ash made way for a whole new fire, built from the same old me, brought to you by inspiration (and grit. Lots of grit.). Transformation doesn’t feel magical. It feels nearly impossible. And it happens when you keep trying anyway.

this time of year is a buzzy one. It’s generally looked at as a clean slate, a chance to make big changes, a kick-off to one of those Cinderella transformations where magic dust swirls around us as our flat, stringy hair (and all it may represent) becomes a smooth, expensive updo. Don’t get me wrong, I see the appeal. “New year, new me” is a catchy lyric in the siren song seemingly dedicated to us becoming “better” in some way. It’s sung to convince us that we, in fact, are needing to be leaps and bounds ahead of where we are now. We’re good. Not great. Not yet. And while that can undoubtedly ignite motivation, for me it all plays a bit big. The bells and whistles of this concept seem to overpower, while any steady rhythm is impossible to detect. Big Change gets the limelight, but it’s only there to soak it up because of Tiny Steps. And you know who we have to thank for those? The old you. And this means the old you (and me) have had to do the hardest thing of all: siphon out inspiration when things weren’t buzzy, when the song wasn’t being sung, when there wasn’t a bell nor a whistle on the scene. My friends, that is a task inarguably more monumental than transformation. And it simply cannot happen without the old us.

My January of last year wasn’t all sorts of fun and games. It brought a bit of loss — the kind that carries a lot of sadness and holds hands with a lot of anger — and didn’t leave too much room for fantasies of transformation. I was at capacity. Instead of walking through the start

Listen, I’m not here to crush any newlycrafted routines or cut down your latest ways for feeling your best. On the contrary, you’ve got nothing but my support and admiration! I am here to gently remind you (and me) that the older versions of ourselves have had to fight tooth and nail to get us where we are. So, as this new year and new term get off the ground and running, give the old you a prime seat at the table, even when you've been dissatisfied, even when things have felt stagnant. We’re not here for a total transformation, we’re here for reignited inspiration.

Welcome to Winter Term, Roadrunners. New year. Same us. Fresh ideas. Eat your heart

Editor-in-Chief

editor-in-chief design editor

LEAH BIESACK

KAILYN MCQUISTEN

CARSYN MEYERS arts & lit editor

CODI WOOD web editor

CAROLINA SALLES sports editor reviews

STEVEN PRYOR marketing director

RYAN JANOWITZ staff advisor

ROB PRIEWE contributors

BRENDA AUTRY

ELIJAH BENSON

SAHALIE BISHOP

REBEKAH BOND

JOSH CANDÉ

FEANRYR DRAGONSON

LISA HOOGESTEGER

KAILEY LEGIER

SARAH PRIETO

QUINN WAHL the commuter is the student-run magazine for LBCC, financed by student fees and advertising. Opinions expressed in The Commuter do not necessarily reflect those of the LBCC administration, faculty and students of LBCC. Editorials, columns, letters, and cartoons reflect the opinions of the authors. LBCC is an equal opportunity educator and employer. letters welcome

The Commuter encourages readers to use its “Opinion” section to express their views on campus, community, regional and national issues. The Commuter attempts to print all submissions received, but reserves the right to edit for grammar, length, libel, privacy concerns and taste. Opinions expressed by letter submitters do not represent the views of the Commuter staff or the College.

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wanna get together? We’re really nice and fairly cool and we’d love to hear what you have to say. Not big on journalism but love to journal? Perfect. Are you a STEM major with major opinions? Let’s hear ’em. Like writing about ’80s film? Local animals? Snack hacks? Maybe you have a hefty folder of flash fiction on your laptop, just dying to be published and printed. Drop us a line. We’d love to meet you, read you, and support you. Think your ideas might be too weird or too niche for submission? Even better. The Commuter is an award-winning publication because of our wide range of contributions and our unique contributors. So reach out. We’ll be staring at our email inbox in the meantime, not an ounce of chill to be had.