Of all the days and all the weeks that a disaster on campus could have happened, the diabolical newspaper gods chose the week I am set to create my Sentinel masterpiece. Why did the server crash this week? Why, oh dear God, why did a computer virus spread through our campus like AIDs through Africa?
Is it my fault? Was my last hippy-condemning opinion article too much for you? I literally felt it was a rich, compelling piece worthy of much admiration.
No, it could not have been that. Was it the typo-ridden issue as a whole? I swear, it wasn't my fault -- we have but one copy editor!
Needless to say, this issue must to be absolutely perfect, as it will be our submission for the "Best of Show" awards in San Diego. So, indeed, it makes perfect sense that everything capable of going wrong thus far has done exactly that: With no server, reporters cannot save their articles into the normal space for editors to edit; page designers cannot save over templates for their current design; nor can photographers share photos with designers and editors.
In a word: catastrophic.
If I can somehow pull this issue off without any more glaring mishaps (which will probably require about 100 hours from me before we print in a week), then I am officially amazing. Stay posted, as I'm chronicling this entire issue -- so if I die in production, at least somebody will know why.
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1 Comment:
jake. don't worry. we'll get it figured out. we're taking san diego by storm.
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