Editor’s Note: Traditionally, graduating seniors working at The Collegian are given the chance to write a farewell note at the end of their tenure at CSU.
With a day left until the deadline for these farewell columns, I find myself staring at a blank page, wondering how to sum up 1,369 days. How do you compress a college career into 500 words? But I guess that’s the job of a journalist, isn’t it? So, like many of the back-breaking assignments I’ve grunted my way through while sleep deprived, slightly unhinged and armed with a questionable sense of humor, I’ll find a way, and that way is likely Advil and caffeine.
Like most Collegian staffers, I didn’t exactly find The Collegian. Rather, it found me, and dangled a shiny object in front of my eyes and whispered, “This way.” It lured me into the basement of the Lory Student Center, where I found a group of people who, for some inexplicable reason, take socially awkward misfits and turn them into reporters whose entire job is to talk to strangers. They locked me down there in a dimly lit room, roughed me up and made me part of the family.
At first, I was just a stubborn photographer chasing good light and pretty colors. But slowly, they molded me into a storyteller who still chases good light and pretty colors. I learned how to speak with people about sensitive subjects, how to build bridges between communities and how to make something out of nothing on a deadline. Using these new skills, I embedded myself in long-form stories, stood on the front lines of wildfires, hung over the edge of the halfpipe at X Games and took cover in a BearCat during a barricaded suspect incident — and those are just the moments they would let me talk about. Seriously, ask me about the bear or Frozen Dead Guy Days if you see me hunched over a cup of black coffee at 2 a.m., waiting for a photo.
The best part is, I got to do a lot of it alongside my best friend — another poor soul who fell for the shiny objects and promises of California Burritos and horchata. We competed with one another, made each other better and eventually served as co-photo directors until another publication tempted him away with a shinier keychain. But that’s the beauty of The Collegian; while he and I will become little more than a Collegian file photo that occasionally pops up as the “something out of nothing,” the friendship we forged in a delirious state endures like many of the relationships made at The Collegian do.
Even with 500 words and a day to write this, I still can’t fully explain how this place manages to turn chaos into camaraderie, or how it made someone like me feel at home in a newsroom that has no windows. Perhaps it was the chance for cool photos, the shared desire to create or the noodles and doodles. But I know that when I look back, I’ll remember the late nights on deadline, the people who made the basement feel alive and the laughter.
Garrett Mogel was the 2024-25 photo director of The Rocky Mountain Collegian. He can no longer be reached at photo@collegian.com, but he can be reached on Instagram @m0unta1in_man.
