September 21, 2002 With 100% of Union County College's students being commuters, few of them have a gnawing desire to participate in school activities or clubs. This resulted in the death of once award winning newspaper. The Scroll, having been revived, is now offered as a class. A startling caprice led to my being named editor. This happened last week during our second class. It makes perfect sense if editor is redefined as "one who writes editorials." Of course, I also find myself reconfiguring others' sentences, adding punctuation, omitting adverbs, and being unintentionally obnoxious. This position is one will dedicate myself to. A non-threatening schedule and a penchant for grammar, sentence structure, and usage permit it. The truth is, if my dreams and ambitions to write dry up like the ink in a beached octopus, curling up behind stacks of paper with a red pen and editing copy all day long does not sound bad at all.
The first paper is set to come out next week. Thursday afternoon was the last day we had to put it together; editing and laying out stories, inserting appropriate pictures, and embracing chaos for the sake of a deadline. I went in at noon, an hour and a half early, and left nine hours later. Thursday was the perfect day to take off from work.
Like everyone in the media, I surrendered to the anniversary hype and wrote my first piece about UCC's attempt to honor September 11. I cut English class to do it. That is typical of my behavior: only cut a class if doing work for another class. Did I used to be a badass? The event was earnest, but impersonal. The ramblings of Dr. Meline Karachijikikazakstan were removed from what students thought and felt. I know this because I interviewed them, with an article to write. A strident woman with a son who narrowly escaped death stood up and quieted the irreverence. They picked a bad day to be young and garrulous. The woman interceded further, demanding a moment of silence. It stood out from Post-traumatic psychobabble, and I threw it in the article.
Professor Carty, regarding my ability to capture the 9/11 goings-on, "We can send you anywhere." The compliment resonated through me. A former news reporter and Columbia J-School grad, her opinion means more than my modest suppositions.
Things have been slowing down at the bookstore. Lines interrupt lapses, but consist of fewer people and smaller purposes. Returned to my trusty cash register I have. In the empty moments, I tend to snatch up a literature compilation and leaf through the interesting parts. Yesterday, a Bedford Reader informed me of slave labor's benefits, the American way of not complaining, and the embalming process. Straight pins through lips, recast limbs, and eye cement, oh my! Though I was opposed to formal burial before reading the essay, "Behind the Formaldehyde Curtain," reinforced this quite well. Ashes to ashes, indeed. It's by Jessica Mitford. Check it out after a heavy meal.
English and Philosophy demand little more than my attention in class, and that I read and take notes at home. The selections have not been particularly challenging, but assume the Dead Sea Scrolls' complexity when compared to my computer class. Office XP Professional, a suite containing Word 2002, Access 2002, Excel 2002, and Power Point 2002, is required and not worth the two hundred dollars on its price tag. KaZaa only gleaned incomplete or damaged versions of the suite, so I turned to my brother. He suggested ordering ten dollar trial software from the MSN website. He then offered to crack it for me, transforming it into the full version. Thus far, we have learned to locate the power button, use the mouse, and copy flyers from the text. Forgive my condescension. Of course this class includes techno-impaired members of the geriatric set. Instead of being patronized by the book, I laugh it off. Like this question:
Your cousin just purchased a copy of Office XP and installed it on his home computer. He has offered to let you borrow his copy to install on your home computer. Is it okay for you to do this? Explain why or why not.
Without a licensee agreement to refer to, I approached this question from an ethical standpoint. Of course it is not okay! Bill Gates's empire would crumble at his wretched feet if sharing were prevalent in the software world. Just because it is not okay does not mean I forewent saving ninety percent of the ticketed price by employing (deploying?) the rapacious techniques of a pirate. Now I simply have to remember how to format text and insert clip art.
Could life be easier? Monday will be fledged with a stampede of procrastinators. Late start classes begin, and I will be appropriately caffeinated. Since the staff was cut by half and the aisles are inexplicably blocked off (What? Cameras and alarm tags aren't good enough?), this will prove to be a transitory phase of bedlam. Not only are they paranoid, Follett is shorthanded as hell. Too many kids get fired after just one paycheck. If textbook company penny-pinching does not signify a bad economy, what does?
Okay, I have tried to distract myself from it, but my excitement regarding the coming paper has not begun to subside. Freelancing was fun, but now I am a part of something bigger than myself and public and can't avoid assigning meaning to it. Perhaps it is a tiny, crappy publication of the college people joke about, but it was a team effort. It is also a hell of a lot better than last year. If our rough copies weren't evidence, Carty said it herself.
Together, we are making GhettoPaper look a little more like Kean's.
