Photo courtesy of blogspot.com
Photo courtesy of blogspot.com
Photo courtesy of blogspot.com

By SARAH LEWIS, Editor-in-Chief

I have hated confrontation since I was a precious little child.

When I was seven years old, I threw up all over my mom’s denim embroidered Mickey Mouse jacket at Skateland (gotta love the 90s) after a rather knock-down-drag-out ending to my older brother’s roller hockey game.

We won’t go into all of the details, but you can pretty much see that this event set the bar for how I would react to fighting for the rest of my life: Tears and projectile vomit.

If I had to compare my aversion to conflict in layman’s terms, I would liken myself to a Chihuahua. So basically, whenever anyone’s disagreements heighten over 75 decibels, you can nearly guarantee I will be sitting in the corner equating my reaction to be 33 percent fear, 33 percent shake, 33 percent anxiety, and 1 percent possibility of needing to nervous pee.

So why am I going into my distaste for argument, you ask. Well, lately I’ve realized my career choice of journalism that I locked myself into in early high school revolves entirely around fracas. Journalists spend their careers pissing people off in one way or another. Remember the tears and projectile vomit? I don’t think that’s acceptable behavior for the workplace.

This is awful.

First of all, how is it possible that I’m coming to this conclusion with only three measly months before graduation? And secondly, is this real life?

I have always been the peacekeeper among friends, the quiet observer in class, and the almost motherly leader to staff members (some of them call me mom).

So why the actual hell have I been planning to go into a career that deals with a whole lot of rumpus and rhubarb?!?! I have no idea, but I know that I need to change it.

You know why? Because Chihuahuas like me don’t need to be in such a stressful work environment for the rest of their shaky little wide-eyed lives.

I plan to spend the rest of my life as far away from causing any kind of provocation as I can.

Lesson: Don’t be too scared to admit you’ve changed your mind. Have some self-reflection over a cup of tea and folk music…or whatever.

But realize you don’t have to settle for something you once thought was perfect for you. Because it just might make you succumb to tears and projectile vomiting now.