The First Day of the Rest of Your Life . . . Again

The last day of my internship was on Thursday. I have to admit that I'm going to miss this place. Now that it comes down to the end, I feel confident in saying it's a good magazine. The layout is great, the stories are pretty solid and I absolutely loved those people. There was a moment last week where I was driving home where I thought, just for a second, "If they offered me a job I would stay."

Of course they didn't, which is fine and to be expected, but I did get some lovely parting gifts. They all signed a card for me and got me some moleskin journals which they said were for my future reporting. Then my editor in chief (not the assistant editor who I worked with the most ) got me a card with a $100 check inside. I mean, shit, I was not expecting that.

I got them stuff too. Instead of getting them thank you cards, I repurposed mother day's cards, birthday cards, etc. I crossed out the words inside and wrote different things. I think the one I got for my assistant editor was the best. It was a birthday card that was obviously from a husband to a wife. On the front it said "Wife" which I crossed out and put "editor" on. Then it said something like, "It's no wonder you're amazing. After all you have a wonderful, handsome husband like me." So I crossed out wonderful and put "good at updating the calendar" and handsome and put "person with a good work ethic." I also got them $5 gift cards to the cafe and a bag of this really good dark roast we sell.

They were completely blown away. I mean, not like I did it just to leave them with a good impression of me, but three different people offered to give me recommendations in my job search. The personal touch really makes a difference. But I only would have done it for a group of people I really liked and cared about.

I think the check from my editor in chief shocked me the most because I didn't talk to her as much as everyone else. She didn't work with the interns very much and was mostly involved with the editorial department by way of the assistant editor. I talked with her every now and then, and I asked for her help when I wrote the grass story (which apparently like five different people have complimented), but it felt really good to know that she recognized my hard work.

With my time at the magazine over I'm ready to go into full self-improvement mode. In terms of my career, I'm meeting with my assistant editor one more time to ask her about freelancing. My mom gave me the e-mail address of someone at her agency that used to be a reporter.

I'm also ready to start exercising again. Some of the people at the cafe are having a weight loss competition and I'm joining them. I went jogging today and packed myself a lunch for work, so we're off to a good start. I've decided to give up all mayo completely, but I can't give up cream and sugar in my coffee. Not yet anyway. I've got to start somewhere, right?

Even though I spend a lot of time thinking about how I'm not anywhere near the person I want to be, I want to take just one second to be proud of myself. When I think about where I was my freshmen year of college; timid, awkward, unable to hold a decent conversation on the telephone, I feel like I've come so far.

I don't know if I ever mentioned this or not, but the magazine is writing a series of profiles on the authors featured in the local book festival. I wrote the first one and after it was up on the web, one of my fellow interns read it and then said she was impressed. Then she asked me for advice. Someone asked ME for advice about journalism. Not only that, but I realized that I was kind of qualified to give it. Not that I'm an expert my any means, but between this internship, the articles I wrote in school and my former newspaper I've got a 1 1/2 years-2 years of experience.

Three years ago I never would have imagined that I would feel comfortable contacting someone I'd never met and asking them questions about delicate topics. Journalism has unlocked this ability in me to talk to anyone about anything. As begrudgingly as I added journalism as a second major a few years ago, I feel like it's really added a lot to my life.

So, just for one moment, I'm going to be proud of myself. I'm professional as shit, damnit! Maybe not ready take on NPR, but confident enough that I can approach a mid-size newspaper and say, "You want someone to write profiles on local artists for your lifestyle section? I'm fucking there."

Though maybe I should work on my phrasing. Maybe.