MacMedia, Fare Thee Well…

Writing this is going to be really hard.

How do I sum up three years of my life spent toiling, fretting, stressing, and loving this paper that you holding your hands? Three years of it consuming my thoughts. And in a couple weeks… it’ll be gone. Not for you, Gentle Reader, nor for some of you, my fellow MacMediatrons—but I shall be moving on to bigger pastures (hopefully the kind that pays money in exchange for blood and sweat and tears).

MacMedia hasn’t just been another part of my university experience; it has stood alone as an experience unto itself. I like to think it’s helped improve me as a writer; an editor; a leader; a co-worker; and a friend. I hope that I’ve been able to leave a touch of myself with it. When something like this all starts, you can’t expect to know what it’s going to do to you, and until it’s all over you have no way of knowing what it’s turned you into, but I would not trade a single moment for any dollar value (well, maybe one of the days when technology broke, if you’re offering to knock off my thirty thousand dollar debt...).

Strange, but I’m finding my usual elegance with the written word slowing down. I can feel the cliches slipping through the cracks in my armour… I guess I’m just trying to hold on. Because when I punch the final period on this piece, that’s it, I’m done (except of course for production week, layout, all the little headaches that creep up while finalizing an issue, not to mention distro, and all the administrative details to clean up before handing in my key, not to mention the…). But, you know, all of that’s nowhere near as poetic as the image of me punching that last period, standing up, taking one last look at the office before hoisting my backpack onto my shoulders, flicking off the lights, and listening to that final click as the door locks behind me.

During my time with MacMedia I’ve been called at 2AM about a page number; I’ve spent all night in McLaughlin’s basement cutting out pictures with Photoshop; I’ve written 59 pages of text; walked thrice with the undead; caused anger, laughter, and tears in my friends, and hopefully some strangers, too; I’ve learned how incredibly nitpicky I am—and that sometimes that’s not a bad skill to have at all; I made mistakes that I’m still learning from; I’ve gotten away with more corn in my editorials than a family of twelve at the “Cook ‘Em, Bake ‘Em, and Eat ‘Em” annual hospital picnic; I saw Vancouver on a sunny day; and I met a group of people so diverse, so full of energy, so utterly stunning in their skill with rhetoric, humour, pictures, and words that I can only say, “World, be wary! We’re coming for you—and we play for keeps.”

It’s been an honour to work alongside this rogue’s gallery of individuals. I tried including my own special thanks to each and every one of them, but the list kept growing, and I have to keep this to one page. So to all of you, you’ll hear my heartfelt thoughts, but in the ever more personal “one on one.” But because there’s permanence to the written word, I have to include something.

To the “Old Fogies” (to who I also belong)—Fabbie, Andrew, Candice, Kat, Jeff, and Eddie: your influence on me has gone far beyond MacMedia and a professional level. We’ve cultivated friendships that are going to have lasting reverberations throughout my life. I hope that I, too, have been able to affect you in turn, and there is no batch of people with whom I feel more honoured to have shared MacMedia. Wherever your paths may lead, let what we’ve learned together be a beacon to always bring you home.

To “Those That Come After”—Dan, Jacob, Jon, Jenn, Joana, Michael, and Steve: though I’ve only known you for a short time, there is not a one of you that I worry will fail to uphold the passion, the joy, the fun, and creative potential that MacMedia has come to represent. I’m no longer worried for the future of MacMedia because I know you all can carry its weight, improve its output, and make the paper truly your own. It’s your baby now and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

And to you, Gentle Reader, I thank you for years of reading my articles, putting up with my camp, my geek, my dashes, my dorkiness, my comma lists, and my liberal use of punctuation!!!!!! Without you, I write in a vacuum.

My last piece of wisdom that I wish to throw at all of you—while the power and capability still lies in my grasp—is to always carry your imagination with you. Let it have free reign over your consciousness because its powers are limitless, and the product it helps you create, whether you’re working on an essay, a painting, a manuscript, a crossword puzzle, a shelving unit, a lawn, or anything will always be better for it. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be afraid of what you can create—just don’t be too afraid to try.

So that’s it—but not really. It’s just a small shadow cast from three years of…MacMedia. There’s really no other way to put it. It’s—

Yeah, okay, okay, I am stalling. Wouldn’t you? Alright, there’s no sense in me delaying the inevitable. With a final deep breath and a hanky-dab at my eyes, I’ll flip off the lights as I say goodnight, before stepping out of the good old 004c one last time, listening for that powerfully ominous little click.

MacMedia, gourd love you, it’s sure been damn swell.