Imagine you’re out on a date with a new guy. When he picks you up to go out, his first words are, “Look, I know this might be a bit sudden, but could you eliminate the rest of your social life and commit 85 percent of your time for the next three years to me?”
I walked into 114 Student Union as a meek, scared freshman and was hired at Generation, as its production manager. I looked at my relationship with the magazine as I would a date. We went to the movies, held hands, shared some popcorn, and gave each other a short goodnight kiss. I figured we’d probably part ways and look back on the date fondly. Instead I found myself with the opportunity to be Editor in Chief of Generation, being a veteran (Fall 2002 to Spring 2005), and I stepped up to the plate. Which is when one sweet little date turned into a torrid romance with a magazine I commonly refer to as my boyfriend.
Generation became my long-term boyfriend. I had to spend 25-35 hours a week with my new boyfriend, long nights, constant attention. Making sure I always said the right thing, acted the right way. Was I supportive enough, while also being my own person? Dropping anything if he was having a problem to show how much I cared? I would lay awake in bed wondering if it was working out, and if I should end it. But, like any other serious relationship it had its upsides too. While constantly hating him, I loved Generation. The rush of knowing we were breaking a big story. Countless hours in the office with good friends. Learning extra skills to make Generation better. Holding a magazine in my hands every Tuesday that had a piece of my heart and soul in it too.
Although a sweet little date would have been a fun and memorable experience, I wouldn’t have walked away with anything the morning after. Nothing learned, nothing proven, nothing lost, but nothing gained. I thought being Editor in Chief, I knew everything I needed to know. Everyone would listen to me, think my ideas were the best, were hungry to work with me and each other, and everyone would equally contribute great ideas. Things like egos, personal feelings, and small office space wouldn’t get in the way. That’s how our date would go. In my real torrid love affair, nothing went as planned, and I had a lot to learn.
Generation was my sweetheart relationship, and with that comes commitment. I committed to him, and in return he depended on me. Our commitment allowed me to learn and grow. From our relationship I learned to truly be a team player, to stand up for what I believed in, that persistent hard work and sometimes nagging pays off in the end, and that when the deadline looms on the horizon, all thoughts of personal wellbeing go out the window. With my commitment I not only gained a memory, but valuable knowledge I will carry for the rest of my life. My boyfriend taught me how to be the one who initiates a change, to listen to everyone’s concerns. To admit when I’m wrong. To take everyone’s feelings into account. To make sure everyone’s voice is heard. To make sure everyone is doing their work and also having fun. I was the first to take the blame, but the first to take the credit.
So my final words in Generation? Go for it and throw yourself into it, deep. Be uncomfortable and awkward, make it work out. A date will only leave you with a good story, but the long-term commitment will leave you a better person.
For Generation this is,
Morgan Grant
The art fag, Long Island girl, Ani Difranco-stalkin’, super veteran, half a beer queer
Editor in Chief.
