When I'm old, wrinkled, and toothless, my college experience will probably be centered around my belly-ache inducing laughing fits with my friends and my stalker-like dedication to a bi-weekly rag. Since explaining the former would take more than one post, I'll focus on the latter. That dedication to that rag went from past time to an unofficial sixth class to focus of my collegiate career and back in my three years in Durham. But now, I'm biding adieu to tnh.
I still have a copy of the Freshmen edition from my freshmen year in all its tattered glory. Arriving from an all girl's high school where gossip travels faster than Vince Wilfork at a buffet, TNH was the first school paper I'd ever seen. Not the most interesting, well edited, or laid out paper on the planet, tnh represented some (pseudo)real experience writing. I was a declared journalism student and excited to see if it actually stuck.
I had two by-lines in the first (i'm pretty sure) issue of the school year - a student profile and a report on EEE. Both equally poorly written, they were given a thorough spit shine from the editors. Forgive the cheese, but there's a silly thrill about seeing my name in print above words that i wrote in print (though the editors made me look really good). I must have grabbed half a dozen copies to send to family and keep for myself. My parents were bemused, my grandmother (as you'd expect) exceeding proud, and my brothers curious who ate all the ice cream.
Hook, line, sinker. I was sold
In the three years that followed, I tried sports reporting, messed around with InDesign, and dove into multimedia and all its wonder. It was not unusual to arrive on production night at 5 in the afternoon and not leave until 2 or 3 the next morning. On a few really bad nights, it was a race to see which would get settled faster - the sun in the sky or me in my bed.
I left with fond memories. The newsroom is a tight-knit group because no one else but those sitting next to you at midnight understand why in the hell you're still there. Working there is a mix between being on a team, working in a cafeteria, and watching a stand-up act. There is no way to measure the lessons or skills I'll take away from the newsroom, nor any way to count the pounds of paper I've used, the amount of half-used notebooks that now litter my floor, or the number of times I've played catch with a stress ball (or wad of used tape).
With that, i offer a thanks to tnh and the poor saps that had to put up with me, a final apology (john) for my frequent screw ups, and a good luck in the coming year. If cam has his way, you'll all be including red wings references in your stories.