Christyana Cabal: Making the moments count

It was 9:05 p.m. in San Jose. I was at the 2013 California College Media Association awards with the editor in chief and the campus News editor. The Daily Bruin had just won 24 awards, and I was busy doodling a picture of my harp on the event’s program.

This was emblematic of my past four years – always being in two places at once.

My second year at UCLA, I auditioned for the UCLA Herb Alpert School of Music’s ethnomusicology program and got in. My lifelong dream of becoming a musician was finally realized and coming true. I held that dream proudly in my hands and vowed to never let anything get in the way.

But like all dreams in Los Angeles, one wasn’t enough.

In my third year, I became the broadcast producer for The Bruin’s Radio department. I thought, “I’m tired of getting these uncertain looks when I tell people I’m studying music. I need something more. I enjoy journalism and care about people. So, there’s that.”

Here at The Bruin, I watched people trade in extra hours of sleep for extra shots of espresso. I witnessed editors master the art of typing on the computer with one hand, tweeting an update with the other, all while talking on the phone, which would be crunched uncomfortably between their head and shoulder.

And after watching these ridiculous balancing acts day after day, I began to realize how unhappy I was.

Because I was jealous.

I was jealous to see these people go above and beyond for what they love to do – to get that voice heard, to get that story told. Meanwhile my true love, the harp, remained untouched in the basement of Schoenberg Music Building, as I stayed in a windowless office, editing a radio show that probably only 10 people had listened to that week.

I broke my vow to music for something I liked, but did not love.

And now I was thinking, I spent four years here and this may not be something I want to do. Was it a waste of time? Was The Bruin’s name on my resume and the decent paycheck that paid the groceries worth it?

No.

But my friends were.

You see, I was missing the point. I had been caught up worrying too much about how I didn’t spend my time, rather than how I did spend my time.

This was, and continues to be, a small but significant lesson I learn over and over again. I’m an introvert, who relies on self-manufactured happiness, who enjoys being alone, and who has difficulty accepting love from others. Always living in the “what-ifs” and the “what-can-be-done-nexts.”

But the people here taught me that life is more than moments waiting to be checked off a list. They’re moments waiting to be shared with others.

These were mine.

I remember when I was going through a tough time with my housing situation and couch-hopped for two weeks. One afternoon, I found myself crashed at the Radio desk, only to wake up to a care package filled with several boxes of soup, Cheerios and a note saying, “I’m here for you.”

I remember when my grandpa passed away, and I quietly and strategically ran to the stairwell to cry in solitude. Minutes later, I felt someone sit next to me. It was a staffer who had noticed I left the office, and before I could say a word, gave me a hug.

I remember climbing rocks in the desert with another staffer and talking about our love for Jesus. We eventually created a Bible study within the Daily Bruin for Christians and those interested in Christianity. We called ourselves “DB Community Group” because that’s what it was: a community.

I remember laughing with friends over our weekly “ice cream Mondays.”

I don’t have to be in two places at once to be successful, I don’t need to be successful to be happy, and I don’t need to be happy to be grateful. My friends helped me find the courage to recognize what I had in the moment, so I could finally tell myself, “This is enough.”

My friends were, are and will always be enough. I am grateful for each one of you.

I quit wrongly penalizing staffers in my head for loving The Bruin, I quit whining that I didn’t make enough time for music, and I quit being hard on myself for thinking the best way to spend time was to do everything my way.

I didn’t fall in love with The Bruin, and that’s okay. This isn’t my love story.

It’s my thank-you note.

My dear friends – and you all know who you are – thank you for helping me realize that time spent in friendship is time well spent.

Cabal was broadcast producer from 2013-2014, broadcast host from 2012-2013 and Radio reporter from 2011-2015.