Last Year’s Fiasco

Note: this post is especially for students of Notre Dame University during the school year of 2009-2010. Enjoy.

The last school year was a terrible one for the Actidamean. No release for the first semester, and only one measly release for the second. No tabloid. No magazine. No lampoon. Just a mediocre folio. I was the editor of that folio, and I’m not very proud of it.

The root of this mess remains a vague mystery to me. The image is foggy and the audio sounds like static, but I do know this: our Fearless Leader did what he can to do nothing. Sure, we tried our best to release a tabloid, but our best wasn’t good enough.

I’ll tell you who the culprits are. First is everyone else, including myself and my comrades, in the Actidamean. Late articles. Forgotten deadlines. Weak writing skills. We were swimming in a swamp of shit. Second is our Fearless Leader. Meetings seemed to be leap years apart. When we needed help, he was nowhere to be found. He left us defenseless. We were sitting ducks. Last culprit is our Adviser. She was more elusive than Big Foot. Well, she is troll-sized, so that might be a factor on why we can’t find her.

A whole semester passed, and the Office of Student Affairs and Services got worried. If we don’t release anything, we’ll get sued. We were in deep shit. What the fuck do we do now? If we’ve got shit for brains, we’d panick, but no. We didn’t have shit for brains. We had brains for shit, and that was the lesser evil. We were pulling ideas and shit out of our arses, and we spread that shit on paper. We planned on releasing a magazine and a folio, but the money wasn’t enough. We had to choose one. They chose the folio, because we had more fiction than news. Man, not only were we in deep shit, but we were shits ourselves. We were working overtime. Quitting time went from 1730 to 2300. Then, our Fearless Leader shows up when we were nearing completion. He tried to “help”, and I did what I can to kick him out of the office. He told the Associate Editor that he wished he resigned when he had the chance. The Associate Editor told him she wished it was so.

The Layout Artist, the Former Editor and I went to Davao for publishing. Three days and two nights of sweat, blood, tears, and saliva. For two whole days, we didn’t see the sun shine or set. It was my kind of fun. After submitting everything we worked hard on to the hands of the Publisher, all we had to do was wait. The suspense was killing everyone, slowly.

A week and a half passed, and the folios finally arrived. Fresh off the press. It was okey, but not that great. Lo and behold, our Adviser shows up. Son of a bitch. She shows up after the storm. Fuck her. Our Fearless Leader was avoiding us. At least the arsehole still has a sense of shame in his gutless body.

The folio was released. We dodged a bullet. A big one. Everyone lived happily ever after. No, not really. We were still in shit, but at least the shit isn’t so deep.

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