Saturday, December 30, 2017

Let's See How Far We've Come 2017: The Year in Review

I just wrote all the birthdays, anniversaries and school schedule on my mother's large kitchen calendar, which must mean we're approaching the end of yet another year. With the change of  calendars comes my my annual year in review post.

Believe it or not, this is my fifth year-in-review post. I lamented last year that I didn't write much here in 2016. While I resolved to rectify that, apparently my unconscious took that as a challenge to write even less. I did publish my five letters from the editor here, but the blog was fairly neglected. I had decent excuses for myself - 2017 was incredibly busy for me personally - but at the end of the day, I like to look back at this site to remind me of what all happened and how I felt in the moment. But enough about my shortcomings - here goes nothing!

I rang in 2017 with my parents at home - any and all plans with friends had fallen through and frankly I enjoyed the quiet. At the stroke of midnight, I became editor-in-chief of the Globe, began my junior year of college, and embarked on what will go down as one of the craziest years so far. I continued my work as a resident educator on the 16th floor of Lawrence Hall. Bobby and I rebooted NewsNight into its current, nightly-news style program. At that point, we were doing the show every other week in the Center for Media Innovation.

The first edition of the Globe in February brought with it an editorial that changed everything. Shortly after publishing, the university president called me into his office and we talked about tuition increases. I'd like to think at this point we have a good, professional relationship and I would say it started there. February brought with it the 50th anniversary of the Globe, and a campus-wide celebration including a Snapchat filter and throwback logo on the front page. On the whole, February was a lot about continuing what I started: NewsNight began ramping up, the paper was in full swing. It was also about looking ahead: we had meetings about taking a trip to the university of Salford Manchester slated for that May.

March began with spring break and the Intercollegiate Broadcast System Awards in New York. I'm proud to say that the previous September's interview with Sarah Koenig brought me, Vinnie and Brandon a win. The conference was enlightening, but the night we won the award was a whirlwind: I began the day standing in a line in Times Square to get student rush tickets for Sunset Boulevard alongside Kayla Snyder and a girl named Trillium. After winning and taking pictures, I bolted the 13 blocks or so from the Hotel Pennsylvania up to the Palace Theatre in a suit. IT WAS COMPLETELY WORTH IT. March also brought the Globe's 50th anniversary celebration in the Lawrence Hall Lobbies. There's so much to say but suffice it to say: we invited as many people as we could think of, and 121 people came out to celebrate the history of our little paper.

April brought with it several conferences, the first being the Society of Professional Journalists conference in Detroit, Michigan. I didn't win anything myself, but our paper took home several accolades and I was a finalist for two Mark of Excellence Awards. I turned 20 in April, the day before Eastern Orthodox Easter. Emily Bennett and I went to New York City to participate in the New York Times Editor workshop. That Thursday evening we went on an adventure that became my radio production final, Night Court. As much as I would love to link you to Night Court, I'm also super hesitant because it's a dramatized version of actual events, and I haven't actually the permission from the subject to publish it. For what it's worth, though, it earned me an A and featured the voices of Kris Chandler, Bobby Bertha and Carrie Reale. I finished my work as a Resident Educator, and ended the 2016-2017 school year.

May began my summer and my foray into public radio with an internship at WESA in its newsroom. It also brought with it my whirlwind trip to Manchester, England. It was billed as the trip of a lifetime, and it certainly was. I spent 10 days in Manchester, and met some amazing folks like Adam Roberts, Megan Hayward, Megan Hornsby, Callum Phillips, Fay Toulios and Tom Hinkley at Shock! Radio, Siobhan McAndrews from BBC Radio 6 and Geoff McQueen who was our lecturer for the week. It was a crash-course in UK radio and capped off by - several things. The course itself was capped off by an on-air show with Wythenshawe radio, but there were several other adventures within it including a bar crawl that ended with me being cursed, there was a concert in the basement of a place called the Soup Kitchen, and countless other mini-trips.

As I said earlier this year, the trip was most noted by the outside world by the Ariana Grande Concert Bombing on 22 May. In retrospect, I had been able to sample in some way, shape, or form the culture and art of Manchester before that. It'd be irresponsible of me to say that I got to know the place well, but it certainly felt like it by the end of the trip. I say that because thinking about the bombing - it's heartbreaking to think about such a vibrant, cultural place to become the target of a terrorist attack and have to deal with the aftermath of tragedy. But if I've learned anything about Mancunians, it's that they move on. Be it World War II, the fall of the textile export industry, or even May's heinous act, they come back strong.

June brought with it my experience at WESA-FM, Pittsburgh's NPR News Station as well as my summer job at Forsythe Mini Golf. To tell you the truth, June, July and the first part of August kind of blur together for me. At WESA, I was lucky enough to be a part of several stories and learn the workflow of a full-fledged public media operation. I was able to do a 3-minute feature on noise in Pittsburgh and some other odds and ends throughout the summer. I also learned the trick to South Side Parking: don't. I can unequivocally say that Forsythe was my favorite job to date. I got to be outside, help people and use my inner whimsy to operate a mini golf stand. I had fantastic bosses - Sam and Kristi are not only great bosses but I'd like to consider them friends. It's a true family business over there - when I had to head back to school in August, they hosted all three of their employees for dinner at the family homestead. I have a whole playlist of music that I played over their stereo in the Golf Shack, and every once in a blue moon I'll play it to reminisce.

August brought back the rush of school. I finished my internship and my employment with Forsythe and moved back to Point Park - this time to the boulevard apartments. Greg came down and we watched the solar eclipse in village park. The full time professor union struck their first-ever contract with the university, and the Globe broke the story. I began a new semester of classes and we were full steam ahead with a new semester of the Globe. On the first day of school I made two dumb decisions and had a meeting with the president. Ultimately, all three of those things were resolved. But it's funny looking back at it all to see what worked out and how it all ended up working out.

September brought with it the full insanity of the school year: we launched the Pioneer Public video series for the Globe, I took on 5 classes, and apparently made it my mission to work as many hours as possible to make myself sick. We began season 2 (really 3 but we can't count that one pilot as a season) of NewsNight and I returned to work at the Post-Gazette for high school football and basketball season.

October felt a lot like September - too much work and not enough me to go around. I had to make a mid-semester hire for our Arts and Entertainment section, and we began using both television studios on campus to produce NewsNight - an adventure in ridiculousness and coordination. At the end of the month, I made a point of stopping the constant spin. Alongside Vince and Beth and some friends, we rounded out the month with a trip to Hundred Acres Manor and watching the Great Pumpkin in the apartment. It was in October that things got a little rough, but also when I decided to take some time to spend more time with friends and be more **festive** with my life.

November was an entertaining undertaking - I spent a weekend in Carnegie shooting a video press kit for the Andrew Carnegie Free Library alongside Nick Kasisky and Robert Berger. It was also in November that I started trying to figure out what's next after the Globe.

And so this is Christmas. Well, New Years. December was insanely frontloaded with finals and such. After that were several short, quiet Christmas festivities. I was informed earlier this week that I was named General Manager of WPPJ for the spring semester. So that's what I'll be occupying my January, February, March and April with. But as with the past two Decembers, I slowed my 120 miles per hour year to a more manageable 60 or so...

I could honestly copy-paste last year's ending to this year's post. At the end of the day, I'm incredibly excited to see what the future holds. This year has been a great amount of work but I'm glad to have done it all with some of my favorite people in this world. I've traveled across the mid-Atlantic and to Manchester and all sorts of places. I've played miniature golf, attended an inauguration, celebrated the 50th anniversary of a paper as its editor, and it's hard to believe that this is the "start" of my life, but it's easy to see how these are some the greatest moments in my short life thusfar.

As for what the future holds - I don't know. I know this much: I'm greeting 2018 with optimism and some new energy. I hope I can have half as great a year as this one moving forward.

So here's to you and yours - have a happy, peaceful and pleasant new year! Go fight win!

Saturday, December 9, 2017

A Reason to Live and a Reason to Grow

It's been a while since I last posted here. Quite a while actually.

I've been so hesitant to openly express myself since the whole Carlynton clarification debacle, and it takes quite a bit of time for me to sit down and actually write outside the conventions of journalism and broadcasting and essays and the six other types of  writing we're expected to do in college.

So why now? I'm in a transition period. As I said in my kind-of-out-there letter from the editor this week, I've been so obsessed with the bookends of life that I sometimes forget that life is the culmination of a bunch of small turns and moments and interactions.

I've learned quite a bit this semester about my craft, about the world and about myself. I'm transitioning my way out of one of the wildest stretches professionally I've worked within: the job of Editor-in-Chief of the Globe.

I can't say I was surprised by the amount of work that went into it - it reminded me a lot of being Senior Patrol Leader mixed with the journalistic training that I've been working on in some way, shape or form since I was in fourth grade.

What I did find surprising, and perhaps this is my own naivety, was the mixture of ego and apathy that I encountered - both among writers (or lack thereof) and the editors. I hired some fantastic folks to edit the paper, and I feel like that showed this semester. However, an inherent apathy towards collaboration frustrated me to no end. I had huge plans going into this semester and for a plethora of reasons, those never came to fruition.

It seems things start getting bad for me personally in October. This October I started feeling the effects of taking on as many jobs as I had, and for the first time that I can remember, I met that feeling with an allowance to be human for once. Have my grades suffered? Probably. Do I mind? No, because I can't - unlike so many folks I've seen before me - say that I'm burned out.

Burning out is significantly different than being exhausted. I will readily admit that I am incredibly exhausted being a full-time student, full-time editor, part-time television producer, part-time studio technician and ten thousand other things I usually forget to list.

Being burned out is getting to a point where you no longer want to do what you do - and have no motivation to change that feeling. Being burned out is laying down and resigning yourself to mediocrity. Being burned out is handing yourself over to vices and distracting yourself from facing the reality that you don't have any motivation to continue.

At least that's my rough colloquial definition.

At this juncture in my life, I still want to be a journalist, but I feel far more confident in my ability as a producer than I do as a reporter. I feel far more confident in my ability to craft, manage, write and produce content like the WESA noise story and the Carnegie-Carnegie VPK than I do crack open some wildly investigative thing. That's not to say I can't do it (because I can and would like greatly to do so), that's to say that I feel most comfortable working within a news/feature genre. I digress.

I've learned that pretending to be a social person results in being asked the same question over and over. In high school you're asked what college you're planning on going to. As you start college people ask - and still do - what you're studying. If you're particularly unlucky, you get the question: so what are you going to do with that? I'm almost a year out from graduation, and let me tell you, the closer the months get the more nervous I am of what's on the horizon.

Lately, however, the question my friends have been asking me is if I will be involved with the Globe after my term as EiC. While it makes sense to ask, I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to be doing. That's a combination of choices by Emily Bennett (the next Editor) and me (I applied to be news editor because I love laying out pages). But, as Gregory Alan Isakov's song says, "Time Will Tell."

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

A final letter from the editor

Author's Note: this originally appeared in the December 6, 2017 edition of the Globe, which marked my last letter as that paper's editor. 

I’ve always been far more interested in the bookends of life than I have been with the in between bits. It makes sense for my chosen field, I guess. After all, journalism professors encourage you to seek out anecdotes about turning points in your subjects’ lives.
The downside to being so preoccupied with the major twists in life is that you forget to look at the moment you’re currently in unless it’s a moment of transition. I’ve personally challenged myself this semester to not look at what will eventually be, but rather, what is actually happening in that moment.
I can’t say I’ve had much success with living in the moment, but there have been some amazing moments these past 12 months. We celebrated the paper’s 50th anniversary with an incredible gala. Our staff survived the great Lawrence Hall flood and #globetastrophy of 2017. We documented the full-time faculty union forging their first contract. We brought you stories of triumph, heartbreak and everything in between.
Week after week, I am impressed with how creative our staff is, in both finding stories and designing this paper each week. Editors have kick-started our Pioneer Public video series, an Arts and Entertainment Section and countless other flairs that have consistently raised the bar for our publication.
Have we fallen short? Sure. I personally messed up last week’s front page headline, we still have no on-the-record idea of when the Starbucks on campus will open and I’m waiting to hear back on the status of touring the Playhouse, but all in all, I would say this has been a fantastic run.
I’m continually grateful for the staff here at the Globe, my supportive friends and family and the folks who actually read the paper every week. I cannot tell you how many hours I’ve spent in 710 Lawrence Hall, but I can tell you there’s no group more talented, creative or bizarre than the people who put this paper together every week.
I would be remiss without thanking Kristin Snapp, Josh Croup, Anthony Mendicino, Dave Grande, Gina Catanzarite, Dr. Hallock, Dr. Dorsten, Dean Paylo, Caleb Rodgers, Lou Corsaro and the countless others who have helped me grow as both a journalist and administrator this year.
The impossible thing about collegiate newspapers is that this paper must be a teaching tool and a tool to inform. Our staff are all at once editors, students and teachers. We’re in a unique position in that the turnover is ridiculous, but without fail, and sometimes out of sheer spite, the Globe keeps on going. We prove every week that a volunteer army can achieve incredible things. And I’m thankful for that.
Call me crazy, but I believe we’re headed in a positive direction as a field. I feel like this campus, region and country are hungry for a group of journalists willing to go an extra mile to share the truth with the electorate, and I hope what we’ve been able to accomplish in 2017 demonstrates that the next generation of journalists are here to meet that challenge.
I’ve thought quite a bit about this bookend in my life – and while I will miss the rush of leading a team of talented individuals, I look forward to rejoining as a writer with the perspective of the whole. In the end, legacy means next to nothing at a college level.
To my incredible staff – I wish you the absolute best. You’ve taught me so much about this paper, this campus and myself. To my fourth floor Thayer sister and our next chief, Emily Bennett – I wish you calm winds, following seas and to be blessed with an amazing staff like I have been.
To Point Park – Keep fighting the good fight.
Go. Fight. Win.
Thanks for reading,

Wednesday, August 30, 2017

Outlook is everything: A welcome back letter from the editor

Author's Note: this appeared in the August 30, 2017 edition of the Globe. 

“We shouldn’t have to chase the ghosts of the future.”
That’s what I told my roommate a few days back with regards to his anxiety over running into someone again with the start of the new school year. The story isn’t relevant, but the advice is.
Let me be probably the 50th person to tell you: Welcome (back) to Point Park University.
By now you’ve probably had most of your classes. If you’re lucky you’ve made some great friends or reconnected with some of your favorite people. That said, a lot of unknowns lie ahead. I can’t tell you if you’ll be cast in a show or how midterms will go or if that cute girl you met in the elevator will agree to go out with you.
Here’s what I can tell you: a lot of that depends on your outlook.
Growing up, I was a really anxious kid when it came to the start of school. Even in my senior year of high school, I was nervous as to how classes would go and if I would successfully do all the quintessential “senior year” things.
What I failed to acknowledge in those moments were the opportunities that lie in a new day. Yes, you have no idea what life is going to throw at you. But the future has not been set yet, and you should use that to your advantage.
I’m still an incredibly nervous person (ask anyone on this staff), but I have learned that the best approach to the unknown is to acknowledge it and react proactively. Plan for the future, but be willing to throw that plan out the window if it doesn’t fall into place.
If you’re holding a copy of the Globe today or reading us online, that means we did something right. We’ve had major issues with the technology that we rely on to lay out the paper. All the writing was done over the summer break by our volunteer writing army. And of course, news broke that changed our coverage plan. With so many moving parts, at one point last week I wasn’t sure we would get the paper out.
Again, I forgot possibility in the mix, and the power of the team we’ve assembled. Over 50 people banded together – designers, writers, photographers, delivery folks and editors – and made this edition not only possible, but a beautiful testament to student-run and student-driven journalism on campus.
From the very first edition of the Globe, we’ve been looking for contributors from all perspectives. As we have since 1967, we relied on volunteers to contribute to us in order to put together this paper each week. If you’ve been waiting for a chance to get involved – consider this your invitation.
On my last first day of high school, Coldplay’s “In My Place” was the song playing on my car radio as I pulled up. The anxiety that had filled me that morning melted into a determination to seize the year that lie ahead.
So take this start (or restart) as an opportunity to find your place and embrace the unknown in all of its uncomfortable, quirky forms.
Thanks for reading,
Alexander Popichak

Wednesday, June 14, 2017

I've come to look for America...

I feel like the Simon and Garfunkel song they're currently using in Volkswagen commercials fits my bizarre mood at the moment - it reminds me of a wanderlust and paranoia that I don't actually possess but kind of want. Well, more the wanderlust than the paranoia but I digress.

It's been a while since I last wrote here. I've tried a few times to take a crack at writing again, and while journalistically I've been fairly successful, the personal writing that I used to have a good groove at I've gotten decidedly, well, rusty. So here's hoping that draft number 5 sticks!

I count myself incredibly lucky. As much as I despise long stretches of active travelling (being on a physical plane, bus or train for 6+ hours), I do really love to travel. I've been able to do a lot of that recently. I've been to Washington, D.C. twice (for inauguration-related things), New York City twice (WPPJ and the Globe),  Detroit, Michigan (the Globe) and most recently, Manchester England. 

I've learned an awful lot about travel and myself these past few months. For one: I don't much mind living out of a suitcase at this juncture. 

Also, if I travel with a camera I take a lot of pictures. Hundreds. Only about 10% of these ever see the light of day, and travelling more has built a backlog of images, but nonetheless they exist for me to mess with as I see fit. 

I don't remember how I got into photography, but I do know that I've been getting progressively better and smarter with it. I prefer landscapes to people (which shouldn't surprise anyone who knows me well) and I prefer vivid color and depth to brightness. 

There's a fine line between documenting a trip and actually experiencing that trip. There is no way to non-intrusively document a trip. For the most recent trip to England, I attempted to do so by isolating my intense photography to two days and keeping a personal audio recorder with me to record little things like the tramlines and the behind-the-scenes of a radio show.

I should probably explain why I was in Manchester. I was in a group of eight Point Park students (3 animation students, 5 broadcast students and 2 equally displaced and confused professors) and went to study radio in the UK as well as seek a cultural exchange. It was a ten day trip most noted by the outside for day 8 when some soulless fellow decided to detonate a bomb outside an Ariana Grande concert. 

I've said my peace in the media swarm that followed, and I maintain that I personally don't add anything to this story. To me, my 10 day stint in Manchester was a wonderful cultural exchange where I met some amazing people - like Tom Hinkley who works with Shock Radio, or Samantha Potter who was on a two week intensive with the BBC, or Geoff McQueen, a fascinating lecturer from Scotland who served as our general guide throughout the Manchester Experience. 

I consider myself incredibly lucky: I've been afforded the opportunity to travel to some amazing places for minimal expense (DC both times, NYC the second time, and Detroit were completely paid for by the University). I'm now working a summer job with Forsythe Mini Golf as well as at an internship with 90.5 WESA, Pittsburgh's NPR News Station. 

And I'm not satisfied, or remotely comfortable. Which I consider a blessing. A wise man once challenged me to get out of my comfort zone. Never too far, but far enough that it's something new. In that case, it was camping with the scouts. Which led to a New York City trip 8 years ago. And I have kept moving forward since. 

I have this philosophy on life wherein if I'm comfortable either I'm not trying hard enough or there's something amazing about to happen. 

I consider myself lucky: I've created two radio shows, a television show, planned four floor events as a resident educator, and a 50th anniversary event for a newspaper that I have no business heading just yet but am anyway. 

I start getting super introspective during the summer, because for once things slow down a little. I've always had trouble properly relaxing, but I feel like I'm getting a little better with that.

I'm not sure where I'm going next, but frankly I welcome that unknown. 

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

A letter from the editor: “To give the news without fear or favor…”

Author's Note: this originally appeared in the April 19, 2017 edition of the Globe.

I read an editorial in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette over the weekend about how a high school newspaper uncovered the past of their newly-hired principal. The story goes that a group of high schoolers wanted to introduce their readership to their new principal. When students researched the background of their new principal, they discovered that authorities in Dubai shut down the school she had just come from.
What struck me most about the Post-Gazette’s editorial, though, was the acknowledgement of the crucial, and at times difficult, position school-sponsored papers face when it comes to editorial choice.
I particularly appreciated this line: “There are those who think student journalists should be controlled so they don’t say anything upsetting. But trying to be inoffensive is not journalism.”
The statement is quite true – journalism is the craft of presenting important, pertinent information to an audience. In presenting the goings on of Point Park, it’s important to approach the news without fear. This is true for both journalists and their readership.
In the 1980s, our masthead had with it the quote from Adolph Ochs, the longtime editor of the New York Times, “To give the news without fear or favor…” I don’t know why we stopped including that in our masthead – it was long before my time at Point Park – but I know that that same sentiment rings true in the Globe newsroom.
Crucial to that fear and favor is giving accurate news, and owning up to your errors. We strive every week to give you exactly that – accurate student news. Have we fallen short? Of course, but every time it’s a factual error, we run a correction both online and in print.
I feel honest, transparent and accurate journalism is the most critical thing to provide to the public. Every week I am thankful for the editorial freedom this university allows us. Other than our editorial staff and the kind folks at the Tribune-Review printing facility, no one sees the Globe until we’re published on newsstands Wednesday morning.
Along with that, I appreciate the access we’ve been given by administration. Our front page story on the tuition increase is evident of the most extreme case of that. I’m thankful because as I learned two weeks ago, there are some colleges where the president has not spoken to their student press in a decade.
Could it be better? Of course. But having an open dialogue between student media and administration is crucial, because without communication how can we begin to understand one another?
I can’t help but think of the first edition of the Globe and how concise and precise then-editor Susan Trulove was in articulating the place of this newly-established student outlet. In a blurb on policy, Trulove writes, “GLOBE is also a faculty and administration ‘voice.’ Trite but true is the belief that a sufficient quantity of correct information quells rumors.”
This semester, among other accomplishments, we celebrated 50 years of covering the world of Point Park news. We’ve tried new things – briefs in the news section, graphics in our opinions section and a staff of several section editing rookies that have stepped up to the plate and impressed me.
It’s a tradition at the Globe for the editor to write a letter to our readership at the beginning and end of every semester. I look at the class of 2017 and realize just how much I’ve learned from this group of students.
On this staff alone, two current and three former staffers are graduating. Eddie Trizzino started at the online desk and has served as a feature editor for the past three semesters. Julie Griffith works as layout editor for the past three semesters. If you’ve picked up a copy of the Globe since we went to a standard five-column layout or seen the ripped paper motif that became the look of our 50th anniversary celebration, you’ve seen her handiwork.
Karly Rivera served as a features editor for two semesters and Iain Oldman served as news editor last semester.
Kristin Snapp, who took a chance on me as a freshman to join the news desk, served at the sports desk and as the Globe’s first year-long editor-in-chief in 2015.
I can’t offer much in the way of advice to our graduates other than to keep a healthy dose of skepticism in your
everyday life – don’t be afraid to question everything.
Who knows, you could think of something as simple as a Google search that sheds light in the middle of uncertain darkness.
Thanks for reading,

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

A letter from the editor – Celebrating Point Park’s other stage

Author's Note: this originally appeared in the February 8, 2017 edition of the Globe. The letter appeared as part of the 50th anniversary edition of the paper. 

This week’s edition marks exactly 50 years to the day the Globe was first distributed on campus. Since then, the Globe has been a part of the start of countless journalists’ careers and students have sounded off on international, national, local and Point Park-related issues.
In researching the content for the special section in this edition, we’ve rummaged through years of editions chronicling everything from race tensions to fears that Point Park would merge or close altogether.
The first edition ran with an explanation as to why the group of students answering the need for a student voice on campus named their publication  the Globe.
These students drew their inspiration from Shakespeare’s Globe theatre. The Globe’s stage  was lit using only daylight, raised so the audience could see it and was completely exposed on three sides to the audience. There was nothing separating the players from its audience and the two shared an experience rather than having a division between observers  and participants.
The idea behind the name, in essence, was that the student publication Globe would work within and for the students of Point Park. Much like the Globe theater’s openness, the collegiate journalism of the Globe was and is on display for the students of Point Park for review and critique.
Whether conscious or not, my read of the Globe’s archives has proven that the Globe has kept that same open attitude and that connection with its audience.
Most of the source material of our special section comes from the 1997 edition marking our 30th anniversary.
That edition had with it a commentary from the editor-in-chief and managing editor that gave me chills: “Maybe in 20 years, permitting that the school has not been turned into a parking lot, some editors will want to celebrate the Globe’s 50th anniversary in much the same way we are currently celebrating its 30th.”
I assure you this much: the school hasn’t become a parking lot.  In fact, if there’s anything that Point Park lacks, it’s a parking lot.  In March we’ll celebrate the 50th anniversary with a reunion of sorts that is open to current staffers and alumni.
Newspaper has this tendency to yellow as it grows old. In the grand scheme of things, 50 years isn’t that long of a time, but to a constant turnover of students, 50 years of continuity is pretty dang impressive.
You get that feeling with how frail some of the first editions of the Globe in our archives are – these copies are yellow, crumbling at the edges.
If we only looked backwards, yellow and frail would be our fate. But with each successive editor we’ve produced new editions and reworked ourselves with students always at the forefront.
I don’t know what the next 50 years holds. Honestly, I don’t know what the next 4 years holds, but I assure you this: we at the Globe are looking forward always and striving to keep our stage as large as our title implies and as intimate as its namesake.
Thanks for reading,

Wednesday, January 11, 2017

A letter from the editor (my first one)

Author's Note: this post originally appeared in the January 11, 2017 edition of the Globe as "A letter from the editor"

I’ve always been a fan of maps.
I can’t put my finger on what fascinates me about them, but I’ve always enjoyed the way maps look and the patterns woven within them.
Maps are physical representations of the world. The world is tangible but only as far as the horizon line allows you to see. With a map, however, you can see as far as you want – scale willing, of course.
The closest thing I’ve had to experiencing that same sense of depth a map produces was a flight to Chicago the month before I started at Point Park. Cruising at some great height, the patchwork parcels and veins of the country come into focus. In that moment you realize how small a space you personally occupy. The most striking thing in that moment is the scale and the perspective you occupy – even for an hour-long flight.
My name is Alex Popichak, and I’m going to be the editor-in-chief this year, and in case you missed the ad at the end of last semester, Feb. 8, 2017 marks our 50th anniversary. We’re excited to celebrate 50 years of award-winning collegiate journalism, and I hope that shows in the coming issues. All the while we are going to strive to keep producing the same quality content, and I hope that shows, too.
In coming up with the ideas driving the 50th anniversary celebration, I have been inspired by two things: newspaper clippings and road maps.
The concept of a road map is much the same concept as a newspaper. Maps show you not only where you’ve been but where you can go – and our pages show you where students, faculty, staff and administration have gone and where they are going.
Each story we tell or accomplishment we document is like a dotted city in a map. They’re scattered about by the club or team or office they’re involved in. Each journey to get there is either a back road or highway. In the end they’re all roads and in the end they’re all the stories that make up the Globe.
We’ve assembled a great staff of people – names both new and familiar – that have a passion for the stories they tell and share a want to help connect the dots for you, our reader.
That’s the approach we’ve set out for ourselves – within the frame of the past we’re building a picture of the future of Point Park.
From the very first edition of the Globe we’ve been looking for contributors from all perspectives. As we have since 1967, we rely on volunteers to contribute to us in order to put together this paper each week. If you’ve been waiting for some personal invitation to contribute – consider this your call to action.
This year, resolve to use your own map for whatever journey you want to take – and the Point Park Globe will be right here to document it.