Wednesday, February 23, 2005
Former Mugwump MIA
I ran into Dick on Tuesday. He's a higher-up in publications at school, in case you don't know.
Talk about being put on the spot. I worked very closely with Dick, and he gave me a lot of support in my decisions as editor-in-chief. It was very hard running into him. Hadn't seen him in almost a year.
Last time I talked to him was just two weeks before I left for Seattle, or so. We had long talks about being vagabonds. He grew up in Bremerton, actually, and told me many stories about going hiking in the mountains, and travelling along the coast of Oregon. He gave me hope. Lots of hope.
It's been nearly half a semester, at least. I don't feel like counting. But of the countless times I've been on campus since I came back to Texas, I still couldn't bring myself to go into that damn office. Some of it is pride. Some of it is the pangs of anxiety I get every time I entertain the idea. And some of it is a big bowl of "What the fuck for?"
I think I've still got a lot of anger where all that is concerned. I learned a lesson in politics, among others. I also learned that when you're the boss it's not so easy to know who your friends and enemies are.
Enemies is a strong word. I'm not even sure in what sense I mean to use it. It seems very hard to separate the personal relationships with the business relationships there. That's another thing that makes it so hard. Half the time I think that most everyone there has ill feelings toward me, and certainly not respect. If they did they would have told me the truth before election day.
No one even told me he was running. I would never have run for the position without the support of the staff. I said that once, at the first election, remember? And I meant it.
I've come to realize I happened to be in the right place at the right time, and sometimes I'm not sure how much it had to do with me. Like I was just a figure.
It's not just anger at the committee, or those who I trusted and hired and trained only so they could turn on me. That's not completely right either. I trusted and hired and trained them so they could solidly take over later. I guess I just did a better job than I anticipated.
I'm sort of thinking out loud here, but this has been on my mind for a while.
Dick asked me if I am going to come back and write. I said possibly, or that I might go into the Advertising department so I could get some experience there, since I am thinking more and more of going into marketing when I graduate. Certainly not journalism. I've known that for awhile, which is another reason why this whole situation just eats me. That I cared so much.
But the truth is there's a part of me that wanted to leave and not come back, and even though I am back, I'm still starting over. And I think this city is big enough. And I tried to make believe that the campus was, too; only the past caught up with me there.
We didn't talk for very long, but I told him I would come by and see him. I told him I had been planning on it, and I had. I must've looked like such a liar, but I just haven't been ready. I don't know if I will be for awhile.
This still hurts. And it's not even completely outside of me. I contributed to the way things are. On some levels I know I made a mistake, but on another I can see that the way things turned out is the only way they could've been.
Sometimes I think that absolutely nothing is wrong, and that I'm just still adjusting from the whole experience, from beginning to end. I lived and breathed that paper for more than two years. It has part of me. It made part of me. And I loved it.
I ran into Dick on Tuesday. He's a higher-up in publications at school, in case you don't know.
Talk about being put on the spot. I worked very closely with Dick, and he gave me a lot of support in my decisions as editor-in-chief. It was very hard running into him. Hadn't seen him in almost a year.
Last time I talked to him was just two weeks before I left for Seattle, or so. We had long talks about being vagabonds. He grew up in Bremerton, actually, and told me many stories about going hiking in the mountains, and travelling along the coast of Oregon. He gave me hope. Lots of hope.
It's been nearly half a semester, at least. I don't feel like counting. But of the countless times I've been on campus since I came back to Texas, I still couldn't bring myself to go into that damn office. Some of it is pride. Some of it is the pangs of anxiety I get every time I entertain the idea. And some of it is a big bowl of "What the fuck for?"
I think I've still got a lot of anger where all that is concerned. I learned a lesson in politics, among others. I also learned that when you're the boss it's not so easy to know who your friends and enemies are.
Enemies is a strong word. I'm not even sure in what sense I mean to use it. It seems very hard to separate the personal relationships with the business relationships there. That's another thing that makes it so hard. Half the time I think that most everyone there has ill feelings toward me, and certainly not respect. If they did they would have told me the truth before election day.
No one even told me he was running. I would never have run for the position without the support of the staff. I said that once, at the first election, remember? And I meant it.
I've come to realize I happened to be in the right place at the right time, and sometimes I'm not sure how much it had to do with me. Like I was just a figure.
It's not just anger at the committee, or those who I trusted and hired and trained only so they could turn on me. That's not completely right either. I trusted and hired and trained them so they could solidly take over later. I guess I just did a better job than I anticipated.
I'm sort of thinking out loud here, but this has been on my mind for a while.
Dick asked me if I am going to come back and write. I said possibly, or that I might go into the Advertising department so I could get some experience there, since I am thinking more and more of going into marketing when I graduate. Certainly not journalism. I've known that for awhile, which is another reason why this whole situation just eats me. That I cared so much.
But the truth is there's a part of me that wanted to leave and not come back, and even though I am back, I'm still starting over. And I think this city is big enough. And I tried to make believe that the campus was, too; only the past caught up with me there.
We didn't talk for very long, but I told him I would come by and see him. I told him I had been planning on it, and I had. I must've looked like such a liar, but I just haven't been ready. I don't know if I will be for awhile.
This still hurts. And it's not even completely outside of me. I contributed to the way things are. On some levels I know I made a mistake, but on another I can see that the way things turned out is the only way they could've been.
Sometimes I think that absolutely nothing is wrong, and that I'm just still adjusting from the whole experience, from beginning to end. I lived and breathed that paper for more than two years. It has part of me. It made part of me. And I loved it.
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