I’m planning a big fat “suck it” for my University’s newspaper.
Not really. I wish I had the metaphorical balls to walk up to the Editor, tower over her tiny little body, draw myself up to full 6ft height, shove some weird feature article I wrote about penguins in her face and yell “SUCK IT!”
Instead I think I’ll just hide behind the screen of Garfunkel (I named my laptop, I like naming things) and write this scathing blog post expressing my righteous opinion on student organisations with entrance requirements.
To explain all this, I have to go back to February and the time when I thought it would be a good idea to submit my writing for scrutiny under the beady eyes of the elite newsies on campus, the newspaper gods, the column heads on campus: The Student News Team. My submissions passed the test, surprisingly, and I was granted interview entrance. Darth Vader shirt, dorky fox bag, red moleskin notebook; I looked like a cool journalist and I was ready for anything.
What do you say to the chick who writes editorials every week? Her selfie spread across page 2 of the coolest thing on campus? Nothing. You talk in stupid circles and walk out of her office feeling relatively dejected. That’s what you do.
Needless to say I didn’t get invited to join their fancy writers club, despite the rocking shirt.
That’s when I realised I’m not everyone’s favourite Quality Street. I’m the pistachio ice cream of society, only the other quirkies really appreciate the fact that I talk in circles and wear cult t-shirts and animal bags.
This is my problem with selectivity.What if she hadn’t decided I was “not enough news” for the newspaper? What if she took one look at my gangly demeaner and thought “this one’s kind of cool, let’s give her some creative license”?
Well the student newspaper would be a lot more fun, that’s what would have happened. Shit would have gotten fancier up in that joint. Crosswords would be themed and all Sudoku puzzles banned, students would write about real issues, not junk like “the negative health repercussions of sitting too long”.
I want student news to be relevant. I want information to get a little bit silly and writing to stop being so straight–edged. No one cares about Ramfest, if you weren’t there you obviously don’t want to read about it that badly. I don’t care that Professor Higgins discovered a new hybrid brand of cheese and is now an honorary doctor, I don’t really give a shit that some random 12-man protest occurred last Friday and the protestors spray painted the area of ground next to some graffiti wall green. That’s not news, that’s playing the game “Captain Boring”. “Congratulations! You’re all mediocre, I’m going to nap now. ”
In retrospect, the news cult probably would have hated me.