Looking back at my college experience, it dawns on me how much time I spent worrying about playing the oboe — possibly the most nontransferable skill I could take to literally any professional field. 

And I’m by no means a virtuoso; this is verifiable by anyone who has ever heard me play. 

But I love to worry about this dense hunk of wood so much that it makes me wonder if I chose the wrong path. 

My relationship with the instrument has had its ups and downs. I mean, the thing itself is so unforgiving. Its tone is penetrating, amplifying your every mistake, even in a large ensemble. It’s physically taxing in a way that ensures I will sweat through my shirt at any rehearsal. 

It doesn’t help that what seems to come naturally to some people musically, I’ve had to work hard at just being good enough to get by. 

Playing the oboe in front of other people gives me a level of anxiety I imagine a caveman would have while being chased by a pack of hyenas. 

Some semesters, I barely touched my horn because I would disappoint myself every time I tried to play, or because I got busy with my majors, or because I was scared.

Still, there’s something that has kept me coming back to it. When I had to take a semester off from music, I cried so often my mom asked if I was going through a breakup.

With a little more hindsight on my musical experience, though, I realized these skills I’ve learned through music aren’t so nontransferable after all, and my love for this instrument doesn’t have to correlate with how good I am at it.

Playing the oboe taught me resilience, a hard skill to learn as a perfectionist who likes to give up on anything I’m not immediately good at.

I almost gave up on reporting after covering a few events — which requires talking to strangers, another thing that does not come naturally to me.

It was horrifying to learn that human interaction is one of the primary tasks you have as a journalist, which is what I will be for at least the next few years of my life.

But like my passion for music, I let my love for journalism push me through the hard stuff, and I learned a lot about myself along the way.

When I fumble my words or ask a stupid question, I forgive myself and try better next time the way I can with missed notes or rhythms.

You have two options when you want to do something that scares you: do it scared or give up.

I have learned so much about myself, from choosing to do scary things and persevering, but it wouldn’t have been possible without supportive peers and faculty. 

I deeply appreciate everyone on this campus who has sat through all my squawking recitals and sharp-tuning notes, the same way I appreciate everyone who has had the misfortune of having an awkward interview with me or editing my first drafts.

Truly, thank you to everyone I’ve met here who has been gracious and patient with me through my many mistakes and encouraged me to keep going. I feel so blessed that there are too many of you to name, spread across political science, journalism and music, and I wish I showed my appreciation more.