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Sunday, June 9, 1996

"I said baby, you know, I'm gonna leave you.

I'll leave you in the summertime,

Leave you when the summer comes a-rollin'

Leave you when the summer comes along."

­ Led Zeppelin

"Babe I'm Gonna Leave You"

About 25 kindergarten children bounced around outside of Haines 39, screaming and making a mess. I was dashing past them on my way to (where else?) the Daily Bruin offices. A dark-haired, mustached man waved his arms around and called out, "Kids, this is college! In college, you don't have to get to school by 8 o'clock and leave by 3:30!"

No, I thought. You don't. Not if you work at The Bruin.

See, if you work at The Bruin, you get to college by about noon because you arrived home at 4 that morning. Maybe the day before, the city burst into a three-day riot, the men's basketball team won a national championship, the Chancellor felt like retiring or 30-plus people failed to disperse from the intersection of Wilshire and Westwood Boulevards.

Maybe.

Or more likely, a reporter felt like flaking on a story, an editor had another nervous breakdown, the computers crashed or design erred and no one knew how to fix it. Perhaps a copy editor quit mid-quarter because she couldn't stomach the truth or the latest Daily Bruin couple had another lovers' quarrel and everyone was suffering because of it ­ not to mention gossiping over it.

For the past three years, my life has been bombarded with these things, each day, every day, even over the summer. And I still can't say whether or not it was worth it.

Former Editor in Chief Matea Gold once told me, as we strolled around Meyerhoff Park, "I love Kerckhoff Hall. It's like a castle. I've always wanted to live in a castle," she sighed.

Well this castle has been my prison of hell a lot of the time. A hell of a lot of the time.

See, I'm bitter. I'm bitter because I no longer speak with my former best friend. I'm bitter because I'm incredibly out of shape and unhealthy. I'm bitter because I no longer keep in touch with the friends I made before The Bruin. I'm bitter because I rarely see my family, and I missed my little brother Eric's childhood. I'm bitter because I'll be graduating all alone.

All for this place ... this endless construction site ... this cesspool of petty politics and hypersensitive egos ... this ground zero of delayed gratification ... this embodiment of the Protestant work ethic ... this goddamn paper.

Yet my loyalty to it is unflinching.

I've seen every Kerckhoff art exhibit and drank more tall iced teas with nine sugar packets than just about anyone else I know. I've celebrated the entrance of the next editor in chief by drinking champagne on Kerckhoff's top tower with about 10 other staffers. I've fallen in and out of love here. I've fallen asleep here.

In other words, I've come of age here.

It was at The Bruin that I began to believe in my abilities as both a reporter and a writer. No longer would my life be defined by the prettiness of my face or the stature of my boyfriend-of-the-month.

It was in the Viewpoint cubicle that I came to the understanding that social justice would always matter to me. Despite the odds, I believe it's honorable and beautiful to rage against the machine.

It was through correspondence with the Jewish Anti-Defamation League that I solidified my commitment to keeping an open mind and printing the truth.

To hell with intimidation ... my reputation and the truth were on the line. But through a series of angry exchanges with The Bruin's lawyer, I learned that one person cannot do it all alone.

Yet here I sit, in my office, all alone.

But not really.

The Daily Bruin Wall of Fame was the sports editor's idea. It's in my office. The best of the best is posted. One giant montage of second-to-none college journalism. One year of blood, sweat and tears. It faces me, daily. And damn it, it's pretty fucking raw.

The Bruin may be easier read than done ­ hell, it may be hell putting it together, and I may have been thinner as a reporter and happier as a Viewpoint editor and columnist. But there's nothing remotely like being the editor in chief. Nothing remotely as painful, and yes, nothing remotely as rewarding.

As I write this, tonight's the Daily Bruin -30- Banquet, and I'm celebrating. Next Saturday's the Tibetan Freedom concert at Golden Gate Park, and I'll be there. Next Sunday's my graduation ceremony in Pauley Pavilion, and I'm walking.

And this summer, Westwood Village will be my home for one last time. I can't wait. The ocean is glistening. The mountains are towering. The parties are happening. A national election is rolling. L.A. is bustling. People are thinking. My adulthood is beginning. The future is approaching, beckoning me to join in on everything I've theorized about for the first quarter of my life. It is unstoppable, and finally, I am ready to accept its wide embrace.

Roxane Márquez is the outgoing editor in chief. She is graduating with a double major in history and English/American studies.