My second-grade teacher used to quote Milton Berle, “If opportunity doesn’t knock, build a door.”
In the throes of a global pandemic, crafting opportunities from nothing felt daunting. But I never anticipated the weight of closing those very doors I kept building.
All I wanted to do in college was play golf and study art history. As a high school junior, I decided Occidental was the perfect college for me. I worked diligently to be able to play at the collegiate level, often sacrificing my social life to perfect my game. I planned to dedicate my four years here to those two purposes. But the concept of entering college confidently knowing what I wanted to do faded away.
I enrolled in Occidental for an entire year just to interact with my classmates and professors on a computer screen from my childhood home in West LA. Amidst the early days of COVID-19, I grappled with the loss of a grandparent, followed by the hospitalization of another, all while navigating my parents’ divorce. A travel ban eliminated any hope of escaping. But as cliché as it sounds, it was these moments when the world was ailing that I learned to push forward.
In October 2020, as a first year just shy of my 19th birthday, I wrote a letter in the paper about my special Occidental-emblazoned pen. The pen became my metaphor for grappling with reality: sure, I could work from home with the orange and black pen, but would I ever get to scribble with it in a classroom? Or do all the things other Occidental students who had lived on campus boasted about, like climbing Fiji Hill or socializing in the Cooler late at night? The pen was a token of hope, a reminder that things would get better. Writing this today, I am amazed at how my initial concerns withered away as I made my way to campus.
At my beloved sophomore dorm, Norris Green, I hovered over a crowd of classmates celebrating my 20th birthday. By then, I finally teed it up for the Occidental golf team, had completed an Oxy Arts internship during my first remote semester and conducted art historical research through the 2021 Summer Research Program.
High school me would read the next part of this story in utter disbelief. In July 2022, I decided to stop my collegiate golf career to pursue an internship at an art gallery. Quitting the golf team left me feeling a sense of loss and disconnection, as if a part of my identity was suddenly missing, causing me to reassess my passions and priorities. Though I’m still sad that the days of competitive golf have faded, a newfound joy emerged from playing in a more leisurely setting, often in the company of family and friends. I’ve scored lower and noticed improvements in my ball striking, perhaps because there’s less pressure weighing on my performance, allowing me to play more freely and effectively. My decision to leave the golf team is a testament to the notion that when one door closes, another opens, sometimes unexpectedly, revealing opportunities that enrich our lives in unforeseen ways.
As I navigated the twisting traffic of Coldwater Canyon during my 75-minute commute three days a week, balancing a new art internship with the paper and my classes, introspection became my steadfast companion. I pondered whether I had spread myself too thin, only to arrive at the realization that I would not want my life to be any other way. In this moment of revelation, it seemed as though I had relinquished nothing; rather, I discovered a plethora of new opportunities knocking at my doorstep.
When I came back from my four-month study abroad adventure in May 2023, I was faced with the devastating loss of my 27 year-old cousin. His constant encouragement stays with me as I move into the next chapter of my life. In crafting my final story for the newspaper, I’ve learned that there is always a light at the end of a dark tunnel. You just have to walk a little further.
Through these tough times, the community I have built at Oxy constantly fulfills me socially and intellectually. My friends are why I strive to be my best, and I am so thankful to have met them during college. Without them, I could not have had the ability to embrace life’s purest moments of joy. The day I walk across the stage to grab my diploma will signify a new phase in my connection with those I love most, one that might not be tethered to geographical proximity but to continued respect and care. I came to college hoping to open my eyes to new communities, and I feel that was accomplished. It is the diversity of Occidental that has kept me so enthralled by the endless possibilities on campus.
The one crutch of my college experience that has never changed is my dedication to the newspaper, a role I embarked on surprisingly during Zoom school. I’d never considered myself an efficient writer until I became a frequent contributor and declared a minor in Interdisciplinary Writing. With the myriad choices and varied pathways woven into my college experience, I faithfully returned to pitch stories every Sunday, driven by a commitment to uphold our esteemed standards. Little did I anticipate that my evolution from writer to editor would become such a defining part of these last four years. Witnessing new writers forge connections within our community section, nurturing enduring bonds with neighbors and championing our paper’s mission to inform our campus and the wider Northeast LA community filled me with joy. Through it all, if there’s one constant I can’t bear to leave, it’s the newspaper. While I might not be graduating as a student-athlete, I have found a different team based in the Newcomb Media Suite that I know will always have rooting for me.
Like the first syllable of my last name, Fish, I will keep swimming into bigger ponds and building more doors to my heart‘s content. As I attempt to climb my way in the city art world’s ranks, I leave Occidental with the confidence to tackle anything and understanding that change is not only inevitable, but the mark of your true self. There is more to come from me, I promise. Io Triumphe!
Contact Olivia Fishman at ofishman@oxy.edu
