My
life, my love, my Forty-Niner
By Michael Watanabe
On-line Forty-Niner
Generally,
I struggle with social acceptance. I listen
to ‘N Sync for crying out loud.
I’ve struggled through elementary school,
high school and, yes, college. During my
first couple of years here, I did nothing
— went to class, took personal tours of
the campus and occasionally read the On-line
Forty-Niner. Sometimes, dare I say, the
Union as well.
Even when joining clubs, such as the Nikkei
Student Union, I didn’t quite gel (Justin,
it means to work well together). I felt
awkward at many of the functions, and many
members can’t remember me today.
My strive for social acceptance here got
so bad that Christian groups told me I needed
to find my one-and-only savior — and people
know how I feel about that. Just read “Through
the Looking Glass.” Here comes the “Dogma”
reference …
Lewis Carroll was obviously talking about
how religion is the moral downfall of today’s
society. First, you have this carpenter,
who obviously represents Jesus Christ, as
he was the son of a carpenter. Then, either
through his girth or good nature, the walrus
obviously represents Buddha.
Or, through his tusks, the Indian god, Ganesh.
And what do they do? What do they do? They
dupe all these oysters into following them,
only to later shuck and endlessly devour
each and every one of them. So, we are expected
to believe in some mythological parent figure
from 4,000 years ago?
Just look to the Angel of Death, Loki, who
loves “fucking with the clergy” — “You gotta
keep those guys on their toes,” he exulted.
I searched for social acceptance, but found
none. That is, until a class forced me to
write for the Forty-Niner. I admit, I was
intimidated at first. But, I put my all
into the paper and eventually got to know
the people there. After enough time, they
were my friends — actual friends — on this
campus.
I began reporting under the now infamous
Wes Woods II, the editor in chief who handed
me back my story with all kinds of funny
marks on it. I was so proud of that first
story, that I could not believe I had so
many marks. I chalked it up to experience
and moved on.
Christina and Chris both gave me the proper
kick in the ass to get started. “Go write
this story,” both said. My first stories
were an “Almost Famous” review — my Internet
handle, the enemy, derives from that movie
— and a flag dedication ceremony — a story
on my beat anyway.
Anyway, my point is this: The On-line Forty-Niner
structured my life. It was the On-line Forty-Niner
that directed my future career as a copy
editor. Chris, Marty and Andres made sure
of that by grooming me, not for a dog show,
but as an editor.
It was the On-line Forty-Niner that assisted
in the typical college social life: you
know, getting extremely drunk and high —
well, without the extremely and without
the high. Todd, among others, made sure
of that.
I guess what I’m trying to say is I’ll miss
a part of it: the memories. Alisha provided
insanity. And, did she ever. Kim just wanted
to put out a paper. Adrienne was sick for
at least half the semester. At least. Kristen’s
the only one who showed up at 9 a.m. — despite
me being editor in chief. Rachelle will
probably never write an opinion piece again.
Heather had limited experience — but came
along. Ben was always done so early. Outstanding
graduate, huh?
And, that was just last semester. This semester
brought new things. Who else would wonder
if my spoon is too big? Whether I was a
l33t h4x0r? I mean, Tanya McBui? Monkey
poo? And what was with putting me on every
special issue? Probably my one shot to be
a model.
This paper was a great experience, if not
for the memories alone. It was actually
the one thing that kept me sane in college,
besides video games. I love that “Counter-Strike.”
It’s been a good three years on the paper,
despite the downs (no stories coming in),
the political battles (Mulligan v. Babcock?
Who will triumph?) or even the internal
problems (the conflict of interest situations
got bad — more than once).
And, there are always ups. The satisfaction
of teaching someone something new. Once,
in a series of stories, I recommended a
reporter try something different. Sure enough,
when the second piece came in, it was far
more interesting. The feeling after a job
well done after someone else messed up is
just hard to beat.
Let’s save the best for last. What journalism
farewell would be complete without thanks
to Jamie, Kari and Jackie. We appreciate
the late nights. You guys have low pay,
hours that are completely not set and deadline
emergencies. Yes, you work for a paper.
But, you need more recognition.
And, of course, the five-plus years would
have not been possible if not for the all-knowing
Derek. Duh.
And here it comes. The cheesy “I’m not quite
sure what I will be doing when I graduate.”
I’m not sure exactly what I will be doing
after I graduate. But, I’m sure it’ll come
to me.
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