Like good rock ’n’ roll, college should be an endeavor in sex, drugs and politics — but this is UCSD, so I chose journalism. Not that my time at the Guardian hasn’t afforded at least some venture into these areas, but UC Berkeley it ain’t. Hell, UC Santa Barbara it ain’t either.
With a month-old transfer acceptance letter from UCSB chilling on my bulletin board, though, I grinned and bared the decision last year to remain at our fine university, to remain, essentially, at the Guardian. UCSB had been calling my name since an early freshman-year visit to Isla Vista. Great friends, cool girls and a plethora of booze — in a word, college — await ye who enter here, it beckoned. Boredom, disillusionment and celibacy — with nothing but an $18,000-a-year degree to show for it all — looked to be my fate otherwise.
But before completely turning my back on UCSD, middle fingers in the air, I decided to answer the annual recruitment call-up at the school newspaper. I had some experience in the field and figured it would be a way to learn a little about a campus continually maligned as apathetic, shut-in and disconnected. Plus, I heard they threw parties. Hiatus editor Rinaldo handed me an app, I churned out a test CD review and so began a journey of campus immersion — punctuated by late-night office hours and sweatshop wages — that finds me here today, transitioning into the position of editor in chief at the Guardian. It’s been over a year since I turned down UCSB, and I have few regrets.
The Guardian has offered me things that no amount of rock ’n’ roll could; ours is a unique niche. In a commodified world, it’s difficult to find groups of individuals who operate with ideological standards independent of market forces, and journalists, however beleaguered, at least aim for this. Mistakes are made, no doubt, and the institutional bias of newsworthiness is inescapable, but maintaining representative fairness and balance is more admirable a goal than any business code, and one that speaks to the importance of the public service journalists perform.
What does this mean at 1 a.m. on a Sunday or Wednesday night in the office? It means that those surrounding you truly care about what they do — not only because their name is attached to the finished product, but because they recognize their role in creating something that holds political, social, and cultural weight, even on a college campus. All in all, those I’ve worked with these last two years exhibit this, which in my opinion has made them pretty cool people to be friends with too.
In truth, were there no social benefits to the job, it would have been hard to justify staying. But the early-morning visits to Broken Yolk Cafe, the trips to Las Vegas, the beer bongs and the never-ending inside jokes make the experience a complete and balanced one. At a school as scattered as ours, I’ve found the only antidote to apathy is finding or creating the community in which you feel most comfortable. Some students discover this in a student organization, some in a place of employment. I’ve found it at the Guardian, and I encourage you, the reader, to do the same.
Don’t hesitate to direct any input my way at [email protected]. But better yet, come write, design, read, illustrate or photograph with us. If we are to serve UCSD best, we need as many interested students as possible from all corners of campus. Each section and department will be fielding dedicated recruits early fall quarter, and I am confident that our new batch of editors has the drive and commitment to make this next year awesome in all regards — and in the manner of some of the greats graduating this year.
Evan and Jessica, with whom I worked closely on management, dedicated limitless time and effort to the Guardian, and they leave our paper a higher-quality and better-organized one because of it. Anne and her associates have made Hiatus, my alma mater of sorts, a model section for writer involvement and fun. And the late greats who laid the groundwork for me — Rinaldo, Charlie, Josh — will always have a place saved for them in our Flamingo room. Thanks to everyone who I’ve worked with over the last two years. It is to your credit, more than anything else, that I am where I am today.
The Student Center expansion project may leave us without a permanent home next year, but I hope to make wherever we end up as open and fun an environment as possible. Few of us would commit as much time as we do if we didn’t enjoy doing so, and let’s face it: just because La Jolla hates rock ’n’ roll doesn’t mean we have to also. To the readers and the writers and all in between: prepare yourselves for a great year ahead, one that I could not be more excited to be a part of … at UCSD.
