I pictured my last staff meeting, my last publication day, the whole 9 yards happening in the room where it always did. I thought we would all be sitting in a room together, Allora and I arguing about something, people asking each other questions about featured images, opening the meeting by telling everyone about a stupid thought I had on the way from my car to the classroom. That’s just now how it worked this time. By anybody else’s standards, we’re Taking the L in this, our 50th issue, but I think we did something a little better than that. We learned how to make our magazine work from the desks in our childhood bedrooms or from our beds or some other place that wasn’t together.
I tend to gush in a lot of my work. I think that’s one of my defining characteristics. I’m probably going to gush here for a few minutes, so bear with me. I’m not a Loco lifer, you know? I’m not a four year member of the staff or even a three year member. Allora, my very good friend, bullied me into submitting during the spring of my sophomore year, and it made me want to jump into things. I was kind of afraid. I won’t lie. The work that came before me was intimidating because not only was there years of it to look back on, there was also so much talent working here. I wanted to be one of them, but I didn’t have the confidence I needed to jump into things.
I’ll be honest. I don’t know if I have the confidence I dreamed of coming out of this, and that isn’t through the fault of anyone but myself. I took on the role of Editor in Chief knowing that it was going to be a lot of work, that I was going to be putting a lot of pressure on myself since there were so many wonderful EICs who came before me.
The first few pieces I wrote were hesitant. I hadn’t fully embraced that kind of goofy stuff I’ve loved writing about in the time I’ve been on staff. I wasn’t writing a thousand words about Greta Gerwig or, like Gilmore Girls, or something yet. I was still living in this shell, afraid to pitch stories or speak up or be a leader in a room full of people I have always thought were much more talented than I am.
It takes a lot of reassurance and bullying to actually make me feel like I can do something. I hate that about myself. Either way, we have this really cool environment here at Loco, whether we’re sitting around a table in person or all at home, having our meetings over Slack. There are so many people making so many cool things, and I feel so lucky to have been part of that. I’m leaving behind work that I loved making with people I loved working with. This is hard.
It really all does feel like “Taking the L.” I’m leaving behind something I love. We’re forced to be distant from the people and things we’ve come to love the most. Some of us–the seniors on this staff–are holding out hope for a graduation in the coming months when hopefully the COVID-19 crisis has blown over but are currently prepping for a thesis presentation on the internet and a graduation Powerpoint in May.
I’ve been thinking a lot about taking Ls, something my friends and I used to talk about rather often when the phrase was at its most frequent usage. It’s the same kind of BS you hear all the time, that you can’t succeed truly if you don’t know what failure is. Sometimes, I really do think that’s bullshit. People find success by accident all the time, and there are other people who work and work and work and fail. Sometimes, I feel like that second person, like I’m never making the things I want as successfully as I want to be, that I’ll just never win. I don’t think that’s true, and I hope, if you’re still reading this, you’ll take my advice. Being afraid of Loss (of “L”s) is the stupidest thing in the world. We lose all the time. It’s kept me from doing so much, and sometimes those losses make for the best stories out there.
This issue, my very last as Editor in Chief, is one of my favorites. I wrote about Greta Gerwig and her L-titled movies, Eric dives into Disney’s Tangled and thanks Loco for all 4 of his years on staff. Savannah brings you some travel tales and tips for ways to feel like you’re traveling when you’re stuck inside, and we put together our favorite L-titled songs.
Thanks for reading. Thanks for watching. Thanks for listening. Thanks for everything. I’ve loved every minute, even the ones that I haven’t.
