I left Trent only to become a despondent post-graduate when the high of freedom from academic pressure wore off. I had become a tiny gear in the machinery of a call center.

This was a necessary service to society, but an entity that did not value individuality, compassion, or creativity. Corporate existence is dependent on the human sacrifice. The nature of corporate powers is to capitalize and build on the working class’s needs to survive.

Adam Smith’s The Wealth of Nations, which primarily explored and defined ideas of feudalism, speaks volumes to our current subjugation as a classical economics text which is still widely studied by aspiring economists.

This is the reality of the system we have created, and our lifestyles are the product of this creation. As students and post-grads, our vulnerability can easily lead us into this trap of dismissing ones dreams due to the needs of base survival.

The luster of Trent, and Peterborough, had me enchanted. I grew, I flourished, and I came into my own. This path of facelessness seemed inevitable once I was thrown into the ‘real’ world. It led to passivity within me I didn’t know was possible. I was a voice on the phone, a number, and a disposable body to the company I worked for.

My hands and mind were gathering dust as I monotonously answered calls. I was forgetting the passionate self that scribbled poetry in odd places, fumbled awkwardly on instruments, and most importantly, wrote furiously for Arthur, which I realized I desperately missed. Deliberation, and a wave of existential crisis’ woke me from this stupor, as I realized that my value as a being was directly linked to my ability to create, and share.

The point is, if you’re an English and History major, a call center is a looming Dementor waiting to make out with you.

I grew up with a serious Gilmore Girls addiction. I related to Rory Gilmore, a young woman with journalistic aspirations. I remember squealing when *Spoiler Alert* she became editor of the Yale Daily News and feeling a pang of envy, wishing that I could be her. At the time, I could live vicariously through Rory. One day Yumna, I used to tell myself, one day.

Presently, I write this, my first editorial (emotionally fueled as it may be) as the co-editor in chief of Volume 50 of Arthur Newspaper, with my brilliant partner in crime, Zara Syed. Our vision for this paper has always been succinct, and I am thrilled to manifest our imaginative capabilities through Arthur.

In the past six years I’ve been writing journalistically, I have interviewed political prisoners, food lovers, countless musicians, and written candid exposes on controversial issues which have sometimes gotten me into the best kinds of trouble.

Insight is power, and pen is permanent. As long as there are strong minds, voices, and intentions, there is no silence in the face of adversity. You will see art, music, and flesh. Art has timelessly stood as a stubborn cliff, challenging the ocean of industry that has risen over the centuries.

You will see news relevant to your campus and community experience. Politics, the environment, dynamics of sexuality, whatever your beat may be, we will seek to establish a medium which is inclusive to subjectivity, while ensuring a strong newspaper that will not fail to represent Trent and Peterborough with quality writing and news coverage.

I wanted to share my journey to reveal how easy it is to step in the wrong direction, only to realize that sometimes you have to take the wrong turn to end up in the right place.

Hi, my name is Yumna, and I’m going to do Rory Gilmore proud!

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I am currently co-editor along with the fabulous Zara Syed. I’m a Peterborough hobbit, and often find myself writing too much poetry and struggling to be a proper adult. Just kidding, there is no such thing as too much poetry. I spent two years as a reporter before being lucky enough to become co-editor of Arthur. I love journalism of all sorts, but generally focus on music journalism and politics. As a History and English major, I tend to over-analyze everything. Luckily, the journalism world is the one place where that is accepted-one would hope. You can probably find me tucked away in a corner of Peterborough somewhere, scribbling in a notebook frantically over my fourth cup of coffee.