When I was a freshman, I thought it was a good idea to hop into Garcia’s little newspaper cart and let former web-editor-in-chief JC Ramirez drag me up a steep hill. If Garcia is reading this right now, I’m sure he’s squawking “Don’t drag my students up a steep hill in a cart!”. Forgive me. I was a freshman (though I would do it again in a heartbeat).
Sophomore year, I made enemies with evil forces known to most as “Adobe InDesign”. It was truly the bane of my existence. As former entertainment editor Susan Ballesteros would put it, “I can’t live laugh love under these conditions!” I’d say that sums up sophomore year pretty well.
Junior year was, simply put, a hallucination. I have vague memories of copious amounts of Dr. Pepper consumed during late nights, galloping around the newspaper classroom ominously decreeing “The storm is coming!”, and seeing Ted Cruz get booed at the Texas Tribune Festival. I also somehow saw Dolly Parton?
Now, as a senior, and as my time at The Liberator is coming to a close, I can’t help but think that these shenanigans are what I will carry with me into the future, even more so than seeing my byline on the front page of the paper. So to all you dear LASA students who scoff at the idea of reading the newspaper: I’m okay with that. You never witnessed the strange ways I would start commentary articles (ie. “As insignificant cogs in the wheels of capitalism…”). You never found the typos in every single cutline of the in-depth two years ago. You never got to make fun of the often absurd alliteration in our headlines. You’ll never even read these words, and that’s okay because in the end, what matters to me is that The Liberator gives young journalists the chance to learn more about the world around them, and have an outlet where their ideas and points of views are valued. What matters to me is that The Liberator has helped shape me into a better writer, and a better person. And what matters most to me is that I’ve met some of my very best friends in room 701, the poster-covered, often disorganized space with loud AC that I’ve come to call home. So to Katie Busby, Sarah Garrett, Annabel Andre, Sanwi Sarode, and Asha Rountree—you have brought so much light into my life. Thanks for sticking by my side, no matter how many typos I make.
