I had a column in my high school newspaper called "Oh Really." For those of you that don't yet know me, the title was a shameless pun on my name. For those of you that do know me, I'm sure you're adding this particular new tidbit of information to your bank of embarrassing Orly facts.
The column wasn't particularly good. What started as a pseudo–satire evolved into a first–person, stream–of–consciousness rant. Every month I sat down with one prompt: write anything. Having no guidelines was daunting. I was limited by nothing, so I wrote about everything. I wrote about yoga. I wrote about movies and college and love. Today, you can find maybe one or two online. But please, don't try to find them.
Although I regret most (read: all) of what I wrote, that column and that space gave me the opportunity to exercise power. I had the space to say what I needed to say and use words to do so, and to me, that's the most incredible position of power there is. Putting words out into the world and hoping that they'll have some kind of impact, any at all—there was nothing more exhilarating. Street gives me that same rush. It gives me a place to say important things surrounded by people that matter (yes, this means my new and shiny and supremely talented staff).
I'm scared of the power Editor–in–Chief gives me. I'm terrified. But I'm also humbled and invigorated by it. Throughout my term I hope to feature articles and photographs and videos that contain power and excite every reader. I hope to provoke something moving and dynamic. I want to honor the power of words and the power of narrative by publishing the best and the most thought–provoking material we can possibly produce. I want Street to empower—whether it be our readers, our writers, or even the campus.
I'm thrilled to be taking on this position. I'm thrilled to have the opportunity to deliver new and impactful content to Penn.
