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February 27, 2006 | by  | in Opinion | [ssba]

My Teeth.

This issue hasn’t been easy. The Orientation issue was a pleasure to bring you. After all the hype and dread we felt at the thought of producing a magazine on our own, it all went off without a hitch. And we hoped you liked it. At least you picked the magazine up, which was good to see.

See there’s me, James, the editor, and Ben, the designer who are here around 50 hours a week. Four weeks ago we didn’t know each other. We’re doing OK, we’re buddies. We sit next to each other and lay the groundwork for this 64-page beast. We’ve got over the fact that I really like Bowie and he’s not so keen. Yeah, we’re doing good.

And then there are the usual suspects. Jon selling adverts, Nicola doing the news, Bran writing features and being funny. There’s the music crew, and Marianna who floats in on Thursdays to tell us that we can’t spell or punctuate and lambasts our grasp on the nuance of the English language. Our new feature writer and Chaff export Nicholas Holm arrives in the mail soon. A series of volunteers come and go, each person indispensable in their own glorious way.

The week ebbs and flows before it comes screeching to a long and tiring conclusion on Thursday where we stay up all night to meet our Friday, 6am deadline. We douse ourselves with coffee, eat pizza till the room is thick with the ensuing gas, we laugh, get cranky and then laugh again. It can be shit, but we do it. This is my fifth year in and around the magazine, and despite the lack of money, and often lack of respect we get for making this magazine, we do it because it’s horribly addictive. And, well to be honest a lot of small things in this magazine that you might not notice we find horribly amusing.

But with each year, and a new team, come nerves. What if no one likes us? What if no one gets involved? What if we fuck it up? But everything last week ran so smoothly that we thought we had it made. Umm… no fucking way. Monday I foolishly realized I had no one distributing the magazine on campus. I had to do it myself. This forced me to stay at the office till about 4.30am on Wednesday morning catching up on Tuesday. A day that saw Ben call in sick and my nerves rise. And then this evening [Thursday] saw this Editor stricken with toothache, (largely due to the $6000 worth of dental treatment I was neglecting) toothache so bad it led to a large amount of heavy-duty painkillers thrown down the gullet and a trip to the emergency doctor, leaving a panicked Salient production night staff editor-less for nearly an hour. On top of that our printer broke three times. Each time fixed by the classic miracle cure of unplugging it and waiting a bit.

However, we made it. And welcome to Salient 2006. It’s still a teething process, and over the next few weeks we’ll be adding to the magazine. So before you scream ‘CROSSWORD! CROSSWORD! THERE’S NO CROSSWORD!’ know that it’s coming, as soon as we find a crossword maker. Ascii will hopefully be back too, and maybe a word find or two as well. Also look in this issue and over the next few weeks for a number of new additions, alongside old favourites.

We are your magazine. It’s said every year, but we can only do so much and need your help. Whether it’s to write features or just complain in the letters’ pages, do something. It’s great to get involved, and we’re a funny bunch. Drinking coffee and writing at weird hours like 2am on a Friday morning every with the same two people will turn you into an interesting breed of person. We pretty much like what you like, but we don’t get out much, so come tell us tales of the outside world and help out at the same time. Your mum will be impressed. I know that the fact I was going to be Salient’s music editor in 2003 helped soften the blow that I wouldn’t be studying law anymore with my parents.

And we’re important too. We’re read and respected. We tackle issues both close to home and relevant to the wider society. We’ll never play nice. We’ll bring you the best of the cultural and political worlds and we’ll also make you squirt Fanta out your nose laughing. You will rely on us to get through lectures. We’ll become that friend you never knew you always knew you never wanted. Or something. Whatever.

And let’s face it how much of the media can you rely on for an honest opinion? Rosita was too fat to win NZ Idol. Her ensuing flop of a career is testament to that. Muslim’s are touchy, and so are Catholics. South Park is funny and Lee Tamahori is sexually confused.

The Dominion Post is a piece of shit. Read Salient, and get involved. My teeth hurt. Got to go.

Robinson… OUT!


About the Author ()

James Robinson is a university dropout turned journalist who likes to pretend he has an honours degree. Turn ons include soup, scarfs, a hot bath and some FM-smooth Kenny G-esque instrumental jazz. Turn offs include student politicians, the homeless, and people who pronounce it supposebly.

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