TMS, I do the only thing I can: I release you

I came to Miami University under the impression I would graduate as a zoology major.

That’s strange to think of now, especially considering the adoration I’ve come to foster for journalism. But four years ago, I had no intention of making a career out of writing. It was simply a hobby.

Sure, English may have been my best subject in high school, but I wanted to work with animals. That desire was quickly crushed by my first-year biology class. Once I realized that the science field wasn’t going to work out for me, I fell back on what I do best: writing.

I decided to ditch zoology and take on a journalism and English literature double major in the spring of my first year. Easy enough, I thought. I’d be like Rory Gilmore or something — minus the whole dropping out of college and homewrecking thing.

I had no clear idea of what I wanted to do. I wanted to pursue a career in journalism, yes, but that was quite a vague ambition. What kind of journalism did I want to do?

In my JRN 102 class with Professor James Tobin, my UA, Maggie Peña, gave a presentation on why we should consider writing for Miami’s student-run newspaper, The Miami Student. My interest was instantly piqued when she mentioned the entertainment section.

I’ve always loved music, movies and all things pop culture, so the fact that I could write about those was exciting to me.

I emailed the editor-in-chief at the time and immediately wrote up a story about a book I’d recently read: Patricia Highsmith’s “The Price of Salt.” The title of this article is a quote pulled from the film adaptation of “The Price of Salt,” titled “Carol.” It feels fitting.

The story needed reworking, but the entertainment editors, Maggie and Sean Scott, helped me angle it differently. It was technically the first story I wrote for TMS, although my review of Mitski’s “Laurel Hell” was my first published piece.

I felt so welcomed and supported by Maggie and Sean, which made me want to get to know the rest of the staff. I was pretty uninvolved during the first half of my first year, and it felt good finding a space where I naturally fit in.

I developed an immediate devotion to the paper. I quickly made my way up the ladder from staff writer to senior staff writer to assistant entertainment editor to entertainment editor and, finally, culture editor. And I could not be more grateful for the experience this has been.

My entire TMS career, I was surrounded by a wonderful group of people, but our current staff holds a special place in my heart. Few things come as close to the joy I get from walking into the newsroom and being greeted by them.

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I’ve spent nearly every Wednesday night for the past two years with these people. During the hustle and bustle of production, we’ve gotten to know each other, form inside jokes and watch each other grow and flourish, not only as journalists, but as people.

Hell, they even got to know my dog (and I’m 99% sure they like her more than me, which is completely valid). I owe Kasey and the rest of the staff my eternal gratitude for allowing me to bring Trixie to work every week.

Somewhere in Trixie’s brain are fond memories of begging Livi for pizza and scaring her by licking her leg, along with the attention she soaked up from Sarah Frosch, Jessica and Stella (and the attention she was terrified of from Teddy, Jeff and Kasey).

I know I’m never going to find a space like our newsroom again.

I’m not going to be able to spend time on the clock talking about stuff only chronically online people would understand with colleagues like Stella and Sarah. I won’t be able to make off the cuff quips about my managing editor like I do at Livi. There will be no space that comes close to the one we’ve created together, but to me, that’s OK.

I’d like the newsroom and my time at TMS to stay unique, to remain something I will always look back on fondly. It’s where I figured out what I want to do with my life. It’s where I’ve made friends and learned stuff I couldn’t from just journalism classes.

This has been my college experience. Our paper was at the center of everything I’ve done for the past four years. One of the first things I tell someone when I meet them is that I’m the culture editor for this paper, and it’s been a damn good thing to call myself.

TMS, thank you for everything.

southacr@miamioh.edu