When strangers recognize me on campus and say, “Hey,
you’re the dating columnist!” they’re often
surprised when I have to rush off to a meeting. When I tell them I
often spend 30 hours a week at the office, they’re
shocked.
Laughing, I say that it doesn’t take 30 hours a week to
craft a column. I’ve put far more hours into being a copy
editor and managing editor than those spent relating to dating.
Though I’ve always known why I work here ““ because
of my passion for journalism and writing ““ I didn’t
fully comprehend The Bruin’s larger role until I stepped
outside the office.
Just like a bad relationship, where the imperfections only
appear clear post-breakup, I couldn’t see the big picture
““ until I took a class on Victorian Literature.
On the first day, Professor Jonathan Grossman passed around a
copy of a British newspaper from 1837 describing Queen
Victoria’s coronation. He asked us to define the purpose of a
newspaper, and honestly, we floundered.
“To report the news!”
“To inform the public!”
“To record history!”
I raised my hand excitedly, convinced my position entitled me to
the right answer. But I earned three wrong ones instead.
Finally we got the answer.
Newspapers, my professor explained, have the unique ability to
create community through empty homogenous time ““ the
intangible effect created when many read the same words
simultaneously and thus experience the news together.
This campus is so vast, so vibrant, it needs some reliable
outlet to explain its complexities and intricacies.
For example, how else would you know about the most recent
campus crime, why the regents have increased your student fees or
that water polo players train by lifting five gallon water jugs
above their heads?
You’d have to know someone on the team, at the scene, or
befriend Olympic-level gossipers. And even then, how would you know
what you’re hearing isn’t just a rumor?
The chancellor doesn’t tell us what to cover, advertisers
don’t influence our coverage and no one older than 22 decides
what we do, or don’t, print.
Like all papers, the Daily Bruin has the ability to unite
thousands of individuals’ consciousness. Within these simple
pages exists the potential to create a collective reality.
Though you might feel completely estranged, as everyone seems to
be traveling along separate paths at differing speeds toward a
spectrum of destinations, when you pick up The Bruin on your way to
Public Policy, you’re reading the same headline as students
bound for the chemistry labs.
A newspaper is just as dynamic as the community it serves and
creates. Its pages would be blank without the thoughts, actions and
interests of its readers.
And, unlike professional papers, The Bruin’s content
isn’t tied to profit margins. We direct our own content, and
by we I mean all of us. Every student, staff member and visitor
becomes a participant in The Bruin’s pages by simply being
here. But it’s up to you whether or not you make it an active
or passive relationship.
I encourage you to shape this publication, our collective
consciousness, by reading, writing in, discussing stories or, if
you’re adventurous, joining the staff.
I always knew I was working at The Bruin to better my skills, be
an active in the UCLA community and help fashion something that
accurately depicts our world concisely and critically, but I had
never pondered the newspaper as a community-creator.
How do you define such a diverse place in a mere 12-24 pages?
(Today our probability of success may perhaps be increased since
this issue is 10 times as large, but we’ll never hit every
relevant and interesting point.)
And for the stories we do write, does that mean they don’t
enter into the campus consciousness until publication? If we were
to print news later than it happened, would the event or issue
essentially not have happened until it is written about?
Let’s hope not. We don’t publish again until
Thursday.
Bonos is the 2004-2005 managing editor. She can be reached
at lbonos@media.ucla.edu or (310) 825-2167.