I'm leaving. I'm still not sure ultimately where I'm going, but I'm leaving the newspaper business for sure.
These past couple of years have been rough on me emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually. It reminds me a lot of high school.
When I was in high school I was brutally shy and didn't have very many friends, although I was very active and was sort of known by many.
It was hard being alone, but liberating, as well, because I had the chance to learn about myself. That was also the time I really fell in love with writing.
I remember thinking, and I'm sure I wrote it down many times, how I couldn't wait until high school was over.
The best thing about leaving high school, besides leaving it literally, was getting the chance to have my "senior will" in the school newspaper.
For those not familiar with the senior will tradition, near the end of the school year the school newspaper gives seniors a sort of last "shout out." In their wills, seniors say goodbye to friends, share knowing jokes by "leaving" items or ideas, or acknowledging what they will remember about a person.
One co-worker told me, "You won't miss the work, but you'll miss the people."
The News Daily provided me with the first, and so far only, opportunity to work with intelligent, articulate, funny and interesting people. I've never gotten along with as many people as I did at the News Daily.
I consider them all my peeps, and for old times sakes would like to relive just a small part of my high school senior year by leaving a "will."
So here it goes:
To Dick, I leave "Y Tu Mama Bien," dreams about your motorcycle, "Baby," and that wonderful explanation of Zen?
To Ed, I leave a hearing aid (just kidding with ya'!), a great sense of humor, and "sukebe na oh ya gi."
To Tim, I leave Peachtree Road Race, evening talks about the school board, evenings editing my school board stories, and your lame sense of humor (teehee).
To Heather, I leave my impression of you know who (I had heard?!), boy talk, and woman power.
To Jeffrey, I leave lovely memories of Sheree, a soft bump on the shoulder, a big-ups and a holla!
To Chris, I leave five men on a stool.
To Tamara, I leave Sponge-Bob mania, respect for your strong views, and a "You've got mail" in every kind of accent you can imagine.
To Doug, I leave Jeffrey and Anthony (teehee).
To Bill, I leave grunts and Fred Flintstone curses; a kind, generous heart; and a cooler of ice in your trunk on a hot day.
To Zach, I leave Radiohead, old MTV, the eyelash flutter of a brunette southern belle, and couples that stalk photographers.
To Bob, I leave a red-haired Irish lass, a glass of bourbon on Bourbon Street, and the shag.
Trina Trice was the education reporter for the News Daily.