By Travis Beck

Being a people watcher and journalist, I find it hard not to value the basic human experience, the simple beauties and common treasures of relationships often overlooked. Everyone truly does have a story.
Retired professors, cooks and athletes; entrepreneurs and salesmen; doctors and lawyers; musicians and artists; hippies and white-collars; surfers, freaks, the homeless and the rich – all nested in my thoughts. As memory fades influence eggs on, inspiring me to live and begging me to remember.
I will, remember them.

It’s amazing how many people I meet who respect my job. These are the same people who curse the mainstream media in the evening hours, scoffing at Fox News as they sip their diet Cokes through their nicotine-stained incisors.  
I feel fortunate to have found a major and skill that seems to harmonize with my soul, to the point that it doesn’t feel like work.
If I’ve learned anything in college, it’s to take advantage of every positive resource available.

We must not wait for our ship to arrive, deny its flight or our ticket to ride, but rather meet it half-way, chasing it if we must through the depths of uncertainty; paddling in a leaky boat out to sea and sinking upon its broad steel walls, scaling to the top to join the crew, spirit vulnerable and wounds exposed.