As I sit down to write this final “goodbye,” this ode to Columbia and the people here who have shaped me into the upstanding whippersnapper journalist I hope to one day become, I am reminded that out of all the great advice I have received, there is one simple phrase which keeps me from having a heart attack about the future that stands literally right before me.

Don’t be so serious.

It’s a painfully simple statement, but there have been several instances in my life where people have said this to me.  Any dear friend or family member I have can tell you that I am a worrywart. I can’t sleep at night unless I feel like I have everything in my life figured out and placed in its own little category.

So, as I embark on this new stage of life, it’s safe to say I feel as if I am losing my mind.

It was useless trying to tell me to be less serious in high school, as it was my primary goal to involve myself in as many activities and obligations as possible. But if there is one great lesson I can take away from my college career more than anything else I’ve learned, it’s that life is a lot more enjoyable if you actually take the time to enjoy it.

Being in this department, I’ve had the great pleasure of learning from and working alongside some of the most talented folks I’ve met.

To my co-workers here at The Chronicle: You all are amazing (yes, each and every one of you), and I can’t wait to see where your careers take you. To be honest, I didn’t think I would enjoy working here as much as I did. Stressful moments aside, it’s a dysfunctional family I am quite sad to leave.

To all of the great instructors I’ve had: I can only hope that one day I can achieve all that you have, but just being in your presence and sitting in your classroom has (most of the time) been a wonderful and meaningful learning experience.

While I have admiration for the successful people in my department I’ve learned from and worked with, I’ve also realized that there is more to life than your job.

My mother (still the wisest woman I know): Even though I don’t always tell her, she once told me, “Pick a job you love, and you will never have to work a day in your life.”

While this statement sounds a lot easier said than done—trust me, they were my first words when she told me this over a teary phone conversation a few weeks ago as I was (surprise, surprise) worrying about finding a job—it’s one of the truest things I’ve ever heard. Hard work is an essential tool for success, but unless you know when to turn your work switch on and off, it has a way of taking over your life.

I hate to sit here and write this column, telling all of you who haven’t yet graduated from Columbia that all of this doesn’t matter—but, for the most part, it really doesn’t.

If I really think about it, I have relatively few fond memories of my high school career because I spent so much time working and worrying about my future. Being overly involved was a great way to occupy my time, but it didn’t give me much to reflect on and much to feel truly proud of. I can, however, guarantee that my memories of college will have a lot more substance.

So, while it seems like only yesterday when I packed two cars full of junk (half of which I never even used, including a pair of gold stilettos that my family still likes to rile me for) , my time as a college student has finally come to an end.

It’s a monumental event, yes. It’s something that I’ m really proud of. But really, it’s not that serious.