Last night I published my 48th issue of the Echo (not counting this year's freshman edition). The experience was indeed surreal and I'm not sure how I feel about it, so I'm going to try to sort that out on here.
This year's Echo leadership had left town this week for the CMA's. I suppose I was the natural choice to fill in and Donna offered me hourly pay. I decided one more night in the Echo office wouldn't kill me (it might make me stronger) and I needed the money in case I have to pay that ridiculous parking ticket, so I went ahead and took the offer.
As this week commenced, the slew of articles to edit and crises to avert reminded me why I quit in the first place. Making a paper takes time, time I'd rather spend making a new friend over pool or sharing deep dreams with an old one over coffee. Instead of frolicking around Ball State on a Thursday night and venting at Starbucks with my friend Laura, I was cooped up in an office surrounded by layout and copy. Funny how that was once my idea of a pleasant evening. My, times have changed.
Let's be honest, the Echo didn't always feel like work. The whole Echo night experience has changed. I no longer feel the strong sense of family that originally compelled me. Everyone from my inaugural staff has graduated... it's just not the same without them. A few current staff members remain dear to me, but the cohesive unit that was once the Echo is no more.
That said, last night was surprisingly benign. Anders called to encourage me at the beginning of the night. Several friends stopped by/IMed for moral support. All of the staff members respected me, at least to my face. My Irish cream latte was reduced 50 cents for an event in the Union. I had my frustrations, but no breakdowns. But the best moment of the night came when I drove into the English parking lot just before 3 a.m. and found a space adjacent to the north door. Pure elation. Life is beautiful.
No, I don't fancy sacrificing another Thursday night on the alter of student journalism. I have my memories and at least I know that if I ever need them, I still have the skills to slap a newspaper together. But my priorities lie beyond colored pens and layout software. The Echo does not afford me the one thing I desire in life right now: meaningful connection with other human beings. As long as work hinders my ability to relate (and boy did it ever), I feel I must abstain. Sure, loving people is a lot harder than trying to make a block of copy fit into the allotted space on a layout, but it's a million times more rewarding in the end.
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2 comments:
ROCK ON MEGAN! Journalism could be better if you interviewed people. eh? then you would be doing both making relationships and doing spread sheets. :-p anyways, good for you.
~William
I dunno, William. See I've done plenty of interviews in my time and I've felt real connection with... well... none of them. There's a detachment that comes with journalism that's part of the whole "objectivity" thing. It makes it very hard to share life with someone. I mean, sure, they could tell me their stories and that meant a lot to me, but could I truly share who I was with them? Ethically, no.
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