Position(s): Arts TV Beat Editor (Winter 2023), Daily Arts Writer
Section(s): Arts
Semesters at The Daily: 4
In theatre, we have a saying called “post-show depression.” It’s the inevitable low that comes after the rush of excitement and adrenaline from putting on a show — like the drive home after a concert when everything is a little too quiet, echoes of the performance still ringing in your ears. Once you’ve taken down the set, cleaned up after the cast party and read through your closing night letters, you realize that you will never get to do this show with these people ever again. The ephemerality of the experience is precisely what makes it so special and so hard to let go of.
All things must pass, I suppose. But I can’t stop myself from wondering what strain of post-show depression I’ll get during my last semester at The Michigan Daily. Will it wait until I graduate? Or as I’m writing my final piece? How will I imbue it with a significance unlike all the rest, wring out every last drop of meaning from every last word left within me?
My fears of finality aside, I count myself lucky that in just a few semesters, Daily Arts has allowed me to write in ways that I never have before, to discover new things about myself and the art that I love. From unwarranted opinions on movies to reviews of obscure television, I’ll leave here content with the fact that I’ve said all I wanted to say. And I’m so incredibly thankful for that — for Daily Arts as an entity and, more importantly, for the people that make this place worth being a part of.
I’m thankful to Sarah and Emmy, my very first editors, for hiring me and for seeing something of value in my words even when I couldn’t. You made me feel like a real writer for the first time in my life, and I will never forget that. Emmy, it feels weird to write a draft of something and not have you as my first reader — your comments in the margins were so funny and encouraging and thoughtful that I looked forward to reading them every week. Sorry we never got those Timbits.
To Annabel, for being the most brilliant co-editor — there is no one I trust more to catch anything I might miss in a piece or to laugh at all of my poorly veiled jokes. Your wit and humor and tenacity make you such an incredible writer and editor, and also just an amazing person to be around. Thank you for letting me drag you to the Swiftie convention and for bearing with my 2,000-word drafts. I don’t think it’s a true TV beat hangout without you threatening to fire someone at least once. I’m going to miss that.
To the TV beat, for giving me a home within the home of Daily Arts. You make my Sundays such a bright spot in the week. I love our meetings where we discuss collab ideas and fake celebrity PR relationships and weird hidden gems and every piece of media we’ve consumed that week. Each and every one of you inspires my love of art (and my love of talking about it) like I’ve never known before. I am forever in awe of your writing and fresh ideas and unabashed enthusiasm for what we do, and am immensely proud of you all. I have no doubt in my mind that the future of TV is in incredibly good hands.
To my parents, for being my most consistent readers and for supporting me in everything I do. Without you, I’m not sure my encyclopedic TV knowledge would reach past the ’90s. And to my sister, for providing the strangest assortment of nostalgic tidbits for me to use anytime I try to write something remotely meaningful about art; whenever I worry that no one will get the reference, I know that you always will.
As anyone who works at The Daily invariably knows, there’s something special about this place, something that makes it so hard to let go of. From the first time I set foot in the newsroom, I was instantly enamored by it: the sunlight pouring in the colored glass windows, the laughter and warmth radiating from the conversations, the trinkets and mementos littering the Arts desk, the rush and feel of important work happening all around you. I’m not sure what my future Sundays will look like without it, but I like to think that this will soon become someplace special for someone else. And that this will always be somewhere only we know.