When I first got to UF, I struggled to find a group of friends. I had friends speckled throughout Gainesville, but I always felt like I was lacking that family away from family. I guess you could say, I eventually gave up.
After a semester of contributing at the Alligator and a summer off, I got a text from my old editor asking if I wanted to go on staff. Everything from then on is a blur. I was a cops writer, then metro editor, then managing print editor. Every single time I became comfortable in a position, the semester would end and I would have to move on. But that taught me something: If you’re comfortable, you’re not growing.
The things I learned at the Alligator are invaluable. All of the years I spent in classes, all of the nights I stayed up studying and writing papers until my eyelids felt like concrete blocks, all of the countless projects. Nothing in those 18 years or so of my time in school could ever amount to what I learned at the Alligator in just more than a year.
The Alligator taught me to be strong. And no, I don’t mean strong as in “I have no emotion.” I’m a huge crier. I cry all the damn time. But the Alligator taught me that’s OK, as long as I pick myself up afterward. You have to gather everything you’ve learned and just rise above your emotions.
I also learned that I’m much more capable than I ever thought. But I’m also incredibly fragile, constantly just a word or a correction or a missed deadline away from shattering. But I also know that broken things can often be mended, and I know I’m capable of that, too.
The Alligator also helped me learn how to trust people. Time means nothing when it comes to friendship. Friendship isn’t marked in years or months. Rather, it’s marked by the laughs, the midnight conversations, the shared stress of a newsroom, the love, the support. The people I’ve met made me believe in people again. I used to think good people were rare, but the Alligator made me realize they’re actually all over the place if you just open your heart, listen and trust.
So to everyone I have met along the way, thank you. To my editors, to my writers, to my co-workers-turned-family. For those late-night phone calls, group trips to Karma Cream, cigarettes out back, warm hugs when we just made deadline: Thank you. Each of you taught me something. For someone whose career is based off of writing, I’m a terrible communicator. So if I never said thank you, well, here it is.
And for a newsroom where the main question of the day is “Where are we getting dinner?” we did some damn good work. We shared the stress, the tears, the laughter, the hugs, the conversations.
These are things I’ll never forget. These are things that even when I’m 50 years old and probably far away from here, I’m going to look back and think, “Damn, I had it good.”
Melissa Mihm is a journalism senior and the managing print editor at the Alligator.
[A version of this story ran on page 9 on 8/5/15]
