The time has come for me to say “Goodbye.” It’s been an … interesting year and half with you all, to say the least. But in all seriousness, all of you have played an important role in my life, or at least in my Monday and Wednesday evenings.
Because of your influence, I now have trouble writing paragraphs of more than two lines. It’s really becoming an issue in my literature classes. They don’t care for sentence-long paragraphs as much as the rest of you seem to.
But some good has come out of this place, too. I gained a lot of valuable experience as a copy editor, solidified my grammar and AP style skills, and met some really amazing people.
To my fellow copy editors:
Is it OK to tell you, now that I’m leaving this place for good, that I despise AP style? Well, maybe despise is a strong word. I mean, I’ve put up with it for quite some time now, changing “okay” to “OK,” “towards” to “toward,” “less than” to “fewer” when referring to countable objects. All of those things I could handle. But my soul died a little every time I had to omit a serial comma.
My biggest revelations in life have come to me halfway through production nights in the confines of our copy editing corner — like that time that I realized “bra” was short for “brassiere,” just like “jeans” are short for “blue jeans.” Thank you, Cassy. Then there was that time that we realized the best way to pluralize things is by adding an “i” to the end. Octopi. Newspaperi. Penisi. I sure did learn a lot about life in that corner.
I’m going to miss planning “crochet parties” and “decorating parties” just to have an excuse to go out and drink with you guys. What will I do when I don’t have you three to rant to about all the horrible grammar out there in the world?
You really are amazing at what you do. And, sure, that might have something to do with the fact that you’ve been here 14 years. But, regardless, I know you have a talent and a passion for this stuff, and it’s evident in every single production. You are going to do wonderful things out there in the real world.
My biggest regret is that we have never actually made our grammar superhero Web show a reality — you know, the one where you are “Em-dash” (the super fast superhero), I am “The Hyphenator” (the one with incredible strength) and we run around in tights and capes correcting grammatical errors.
Because of your eye for the smallest of typewritten inconsistencies, I will be ever conscious of the difference between curly and straight quotation marks, so thanks for that. It’s just another thing to add to my list of things to be obsessive-compulsive about.
If there is one thing that you have taught me about life, it is this: Drink like a champ.
I love that we are doing shots of wine five-minute intervals apart as I am writing this. You have been my personal little instigator this semester, and I blame you for quite a few of my embarrassing moments — like singing Kid Rock and Sheryl Crow’s “Picture” at karaoke.
You are such a sociable, charismatic person, and your photography is amazing. I love that you are always down for anything, including coming up with the most ridiculous headlines I’ve ever heard.
Ying yang. Glasses. Telephone. Mailbox. Mailbox. Open mailbox. (That was in code. I hope you know what it means.)
On a slightly less ridiculous note, I’m glad that you exist, so I can rant to you about how much I hate sans serif fonts. You know that I’m a Times New Roman gal.
But in all seriousness, you are such a talented PWE person, and you really have a handle on that grammar stuff. I mean, you found mistakes on the Purdue OWL website of all places. Who does that?
But best of all, you always find the greatest grammar memes and post them onto my Facebook page. I will miss sitting at the computer right next to yours on production nights and typing nonsense things onto your Facebook wall.
I know you don’t want to hear this again, but you’d make an amazing EIC next year. Just think about it.
The first time we met, I think you asked me if I wanted to make out. I told you I did not, and I still don’t, just in case there was any confusion.
I am thankful to you, though, not just for running the office this semester, not just for printing six-page issues every week, but also for not making fun of me when Dennis LaRue made me cry during my interview.
Let’s not talk about that ever again.
I think I have a class with you this semester. I’m not really sure, because you’ve only been there twice. But, in all seriousness, I know it’s just because of the extra work you are putting in at the office. You are always running around Fedor Hall asking all of the Jambar workers if there’s anything you can help them with, and I know we all really appreciate all the time you put into making The Jambar great.
You and Emmalee are the only other vegetarians in the office, and I love that the majority of our conversations seem to involve food.
Vegetarian food. You have been my human garbage disposal since I started working here. Every time I come into the office with an eggplant sandwich, you waste no time before telling me that you are quite interested in my scraps.
I am fully confident in your ability to succeed in law school and become an awesome lawyer, or whatever it is you want to do, one day. The sections of the editorials that you write always make me laugh, or think, or whatever it is they’re supposed to do. You are one of the few people I know whose opinion I truly respect.
Your videos are hilarious. There have been quite a few times where I’ve come into the office and was unable to work on whatever it was I needed to do because I was distracted by whatever ridiculous video you had playing at the time.
I’ve never met a better initiator to the slow clap. This is how I will remember you. Frankly, the decibel of your voice at the end of the infamous Jambar slow claps frightens me a little.
You are a funny guy, and I know you’ll go on to do great things.
To the rest of you all—
Mary Beth, Mary, Marissa, Kacy, Joe, Paris, Kevin, Steve, Keeley, Daniel, Rachel, Kevin, Jeff, Josh, Dustin and the rest of the people who go into making the Jambar great, you really do a wonderful job. I’m going to miss working with you all, and I know each one of you will go on to do amazing things after graduation.
But right now, it’s my turn.