I am here because I met you

In 70 days, I will be walking down the Schrott Center for the Arts stage to receive my bachelor's degree. I have noticed that as the date gets closer, the frequency of people asking me what is next for me exponentially increases. While the possibilities of the future have been dancing around my mind, I find myself thinking a lot more about how I got here. How did I end up in the Midwest when my home is 4,150 miles away? How did I end up in the art department when I was confidently looking at occupational therapy my senior year of high school? How did I decide to stay here despite the many times I was ready to leave? I have not fully figured out a linear path to answer these questions, but it always seems to go back to people.

“Have you ever thought about why we are here?”

“Do you mean, here, here? As in stardust here?”

At the ripe age of 12, Kevin and I spent hours questioning what it meant to be human in the middle of his living room after completing a Geography assignment. I did not know it then, but that was the beginning of my longest-standing friendship. My teenage years were tumultuous, to say it lightly, but through every weird twist and painful turn, Kevin stayed.

Admittedly, our friendship has changed as we have changed. We stopped having existential conversations in his living room in Bolivia and now have them in his car in the United States. I go to him for advice on personal finances instead of help with the latest Algebra II problem. His walls are no longer the only gallery space my art pieces have occupied. Some things have not changed. I stop by his house every time I have a layover in DC (sometimes I purposefully book my flights this way). All my friends have heard his name, even the ones that have not met him yet. He still rationalizes the world, and I still romanticize it. Although I could recount multiple times when Kevin’s friendship has led me to where I am today, I can pinpoint a moment where he has been directly responsible for my presence in Indiana. I had been dreaming about studying abroad for as long as I can remember, but then October 2020 hit, and suddenly, the idea was more daunting than exciting. As my thoughts spiraled and the Common App stared at me, I reached out to Kevin in despair. He logically explained why my feelings were normal and why they would go away, but when that did not work, he promised that if my worries became true, he would drive to my school – wherever that ended up being–to get ice cream and watch movies with me. In May 2022, after what I can only describe as a nightmare of a semester, he drove 12 hours to get here.

Like with Kevin, my other long-term friendships have adapted as we have grown up, but in the critical moments, we always find our way back to each other.

Diego and I will swipe up on our Instagram stories with a “llamadita?” message that will trigger a two-hour phone call about our experiences being Bolivians in the Midwest. Andrea is the first to know when I am coming home, and we make it a point to visit the prettiest cafes. Jorge and I will send TikToks one day and review each other’s graduate school applications the next. These are the friendships that allow me to remember where I come from and the parts of me that have always been intrinsically Diana.

“Hi! Can I sit here?”

You may have heard different tips and tricks people have to make friends in college. Some say joining Greek life or student organizations is the key to success. Others will suggest attending orientation week events or talking to people in your dorm. These are good strategies and if you are reading this as someone navigating college, I cannot discourage you from trying them. In my personal experience, my college friendships started with my extroverted self reaching out to people because I had a good feeling about them and, more often than not, asking if I could sit next to them. Sometimes I wonder if I have a “friendship type”, if there is such a thing, because this method has always resulted in my friends being artists and STEM people with a broken sense of humor. When the first one, Enali, ended up being a Physics major who happened to have the best sketchbook I have ever seen, I thought that was a rare combination. Then, I met Kinsey, who is about to become a mechanical engineer, and she showed me how to use a sewing machine because she has taught herself at least ten different art mediums.

Two data points are not enough to establish a pattern, but then I became close to Sarah, who graduated as a biologist but is now pursuing an MFA in poetry and has music out there in the world! Lastly, in her last year of school, Kiara, a computer scientist and economist, suddenly decided to teach herself how to draw and create a comic about her CS341 class. I still follow the Adventures of Steve and Ron through Snapchat messages. I thought I had partially broken the pattern when I sat next to Gianna, an Art+Design major this past summer, but just last week over our daily lunch time, they told me they had originally wanted to pursue biology to become an entomologist.

Then again, if you consider Psychology a science (and you should), I guess I follow the pattern. Aside from being extraordinarily cool people, the friends I have made over the last few years have only known the version of me post-character development arcs. At times, that means we have to explain parts from our lives to each other, or I have to translate a word that would have made a joke funnier. Other times, that blank slate has allowed me to actively explore who I am becoming. In Winter 2021, I was having internal debates on whether to pursue art at the college level. By then, I had decided that occupational therapy was not for me, but I feared shattering the version of me everyone back home thought I should be by choosing an unconventional track. It was not until Enali asked me whether I was secretly an art major that I realized my current network was not aware of the expectations my life back home had of me, and that set me free. The following semester, I emailed the art department chair, and today, as I write this piece, I can see my thesis art pieces in the corner of my room.

Over the last four years, I have changed things like my hair–I particularly enjoyed my magenta hair era – my style, and my favorite color. Because adulting is hard, I have also changed big things like my values and my career plans. I am incredibly fortunate to say that through it all, I have never been alone. Every big decision has been thoroughly discussed with the council -also known as my friend group chats- every accomplishment has had an audience, and every heartache has been valued and heard.

I feel bolder, more courageous, and more adaptable than I ever thought I would be, and that has been because of the impact people have had on me.

So whether I have known them for 10 years or closer to 6 months, I cannot thank my friends enough. I am here because I met you.

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Written by: Diana Fernandez Caumol

Creative Director: Lauren Lukitsh

Photography: Bethany Baker