What even is an editorial? (feat. City2Surf)

“Yet again I find myself attempting to write an editorial when I don’t even know what the fuck an editorial is.”

Great. Yet again I find myself attempting to write an editorial when I don’t even know what the fuck an editorial is or what it is meant to achieve or communicate (although I do know we usually don’t write them in first person so I’ve fucked up already.) But it’s my week as Editor-in-Chief, and unfortunately that means writing an editorial as well as performing a seemingly endless number of headkicking tasks, eating a lot of takeaway, and plotting the demise of some of my fellow editors who decided to take the whole weekend off because they were running the fucking City2Surf #bulk #boysboysboys #runrunrun #killmeplz #latergram.

Well dip me in honey and throw me to the lesbians – one of my fellow editors who isn’t running the City2fuckingSurf has just informed me that, by pure coincidence, the last time I was EIC was Week 3 last semester! I guess that means a whole semester has passed since I last struggled with this – time flies, ay. If my life were a movie I would be played by Julia Roberts and this would be the cue for a retrospective montage set to that song that goes like: “as our lives change/we remember/all the times we/had together”. But it isn’t a movie and Julia Roberts and I don’t even look alike, so cue the paper version instead.

Your 2014 Honi editorial team have now been working stupidly hard for over a semester to bring you a paper that is political not partisan, challenging, funny, exciting and beautifully designed. We’ve covered student elections, protests, scandals and heaps of banal shit too. We’ve developed an app* (COME TO OUR APP LAUNCH THIS WEDNESDAY EVENING AT THE ROSE IN CHIPPENDALE WE HAVE A BAR TAB), redesigned our website**, and introduced regular international student, sport and tech sections. We’ve run features on everything from Young Libs to mental health services at USyd to unfairly imprisoned journalists. We also ran a feature-length piece on a book called Beautiful Chickens which was undeniably pure, unadulterated fourth estate journalism.

As you can tell, we’re pretty chuffed with ourselves. Or, I guess, I am chuffed with my fellow editors (even the ones who ran that infernal race and plastered their ugly sweaty pictures across all social media ever), with our reporters, with our artists, and with what we have been doing. It’s been a fucking nuts semester since I wrote that other editorial, and I found a grey hair on my head the other day, but this job is utterly wonderful and I feel so wholly privileged to be locked in this windowless, airless office for roughly 30 hours a week with this arrogant, intelligent, infuriating, often socially-challenged bunch of gits.

Anyway, stay tuned – we’ve got heaps of other good shit coming up before our time is done. Thankfully, though, this is my last editorial. And hey, maybe I have figured it out after all, maybe this is what editorials are meant to be like: self-congratulatory, self-indulgent and awkward. Fin.

*by “we” I mean Andrew “App God” Passarello, cheers mate

**yeah go Andy P, 10/10 bloke, ANZAC legend