I’m new to this whole column thing.

I found out just over two weeks ago that I was chosen to be one of the Exponent’s new columnists. I was thrilled at the chance to write about interesting, controversial topics that affect students. This opportunity fulfilled some grand dream in the back of my mind.

As I sat thinking of the endless possibilities that work might entail in the weeks and months ahead, I started to have doubts about my potential as a columnist. By no means am I the brightest or most thoughtful writer. Besides my experience with the Exponent, I haven’t taken advantage of ways to improve my writing skills out of the classroom. I've grown used to writing short essays and thesis papers rather then editorials in high school. I became a master at filling my papers with fluff, much less anything with pertinence. I didn't know how to write editorials. I was not the most qualified candidate for the job.

I was convinced that I wasn’t deserving of this position because of my inexperience. There were obviously more qualified applicants walking around campus every day. Hundreds of people who were better writers then I could ever aspire to be. These people were capable of producing brilliant ideas, uncompromising arguments and imaginative insights through their writing.

I still know that I will never be the most qualified candidate, but I’ve been told that the best way to improve my abilities as a columnist can be improved by reading professional editorials. I’ve read some columns from the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. The columns served their purpose: they were all well written with perfectly scripted arguments; a column with attributes like these are what I can only hope for, not guarantee. I can acquire a better sense of how a column is meant to sound and feel, but I can’t imitate them.

My feelings changed.

The other night I talked with my friend Stephanie about my anxieties as a new columnist. I told her how I felt undeserving of the position, and how there are many more qualified candidates. She agreed; there most likely are many more capable people for the job, but I earned the position because I’m one of the few who actually applied for the position. The requirements for the position were previous experience with the Exponent and the submission of a practice column. I met both of the requirements and got the job. So why should I even worry about it?

I shouldn’t.

There will always be someone who is better than I am at writing. The possibility always exists that someone may be better then you, no matter how great you might think you are.

You can take George W. Bush for example — obviously there has to be someone out of the 250 million or so in this country who would make a more competent leader.

Why do boy bands like Backstreet Boys become so popular? With all the money the group earns you'd think that its members would be able to afford decent haircuts.

I’m sure there are many people left undiscovered who have more talent. Anyone can sing well if his voice is fed through a computer.

They may not be adored by all, but people such as the Backstreet Boys and Bush gained notoriety for themselves. They worked hard for what they wanted and that is why they achieved their goals. Bush wanted to be president so he campaigned for months in order to win. Likewise, the Backstreet Boys wanted to be adored by millions of little girls, so they hired songwriters to come up with a few catchy songs for them.

In the end, they’ve attained their dreams. However, this doesn’t eliminate the possibility of the existence of better-suited people for president of the United States or a boy group. This is something that even George W. himself can’t change. No one can.

In the end, I’m still not the best person for the columnist position. I’m not the best writer, my sentences are not well constructed and my arguments are not perfectly scripted.

No matter how attractive you are, how good you are at calculus, how much beer you can drink, how good you are at football, or how well you can write columns, you'd better come to the realization that there is someone, somewhere is better than you.