Finding friends means reading between the lines every day

During the countless hours I’ve worked inside the Daily
Bruin office, the most interesting have been spent looking at
newspapers dating back more than 50 years.

They’ve been more interesting than the time I’ve
spent interviewing people, writing stories and editing articles
because on these yellowed, crumbling pieces of paper I see millions
of hours of work and suffering, gallons of tears and thousands of
friendships.

It is when I read these old Daily Bruins that I realize many
things about myself and the job I have obsessed over for the past
12 months.

Every day’s paper is just a small part of what will become
a much larger bound volume for the quarter that will then be placed
on a shelf next to hundreds of others. Yet when you’re
producing that one paper, it’s easy to forget that.

That frustration must have happened throughout the history of
this paper as a bunch of people in their late teens and early 20s
have spent too many hours hunched over typewriters or staring at
computer screens.

Sometimes it’s hard to put things into perspective.

Instead of putting all the problems that accompany the day into
perspective, I’ve been overly concerned and spent way too
much time staring into space wishing it could all be better.

I’ve been cranky and bitter rather than hopeful and
positive in my pursuit to do my part to produce the newspaper.

I’ve come close to yelling ““ which is a lot for me
““ over things that I could never explain to people outside
the office.

I’ve forgotten about the people I know who don’t
work at the Daily Bruin ““ the people who can shrug when I
complain (weekly) about how much I hate Tuesday’s paper.

It’s also through looking at these papers that I
understand what keeps this paper running because I know that behind
all the articles, headlines, photos and graphics lie friendships
that last a lifetime, and for me ““ they’ve started
where I’ve least expected them.

For me, these people have ranged from the editor I feared to the
fellow writers I’ve commiserated with.

They include the assistant editors, who’ve put in too many
hours trying to meet sometimes unreasonable expectations, and the
reporters, who are almost always underappreciated.

There’s also the other section editors, the only ones who
I could talk to at times, and the bosses, who pose as therapists
for the other Bruin employees.

Then there’s that person who I first talked to on a night
I barely remember and will never be able to stop thinking
about.