Talk about a job that nearly drove me crazy.

From reporters giving me deadline excuses to the editors who never seemed to get to work on time, now that I’ve survived The Channels, I know I can survive any workplace.

Working with interesting characters, to say the least, is the nature of the biz. To each their own, but brilliant nonetheless.

I’ve exchanged words with the know-it-alls; tried to kick out the editors who literally live in the lab; asked the quiet to speak up; and tried to get serious with the animated.

But who would ever think that office drama, 40-plus hour weeks and even dealing with unpleasant sources could be so rewarding?

For those that don’t know, we work magic at The Channels.

We execute what we visualize, and we have fun doing it. The multimedia presentations we put together come second to none. No student group on campus works as hard as us. The proof is in the product. And the pleasure’s been all mine.

So after six long, yet fruitful, semesters, it’s time for me to take a bow.

There are too many Channels memories to fill this space. Things weren’t always fine and dandy, but I’d rather end my time here thinking about the good times.

I’ll always admire photographers who strive to capture the image that best tells the story. The same goes for writers who make it a priority to get the facts straight.

I’ll always laugh at the time my car got impounded the day after I wrote a column on how cops loved to ticket my raggedy, dull, red Camaro. She is missed.

I’ll always remember harassing administrators for public records requests. I swear that sometimes getting my hands on paperwork was like pulling teeth. I’m taking my pliers with me.

I’ve even learned to appreciate the days when I used to push a noisy plastic cart up the West Campus walkway to deliver the 11-by-17 inch tabloids.

I’ll miss the chats ’bout them Lakers, the Channels get-togethers, and the never-ending jokes we’d crack.

But most of all, I’ll remember everyone involved along the way.

Three years ago, I left my island home with a passion to write. Didn’t know exactly what I wanted to pen, but I knew that The Channels would keep me doing it. And it did.

During my tenure, I’ve tackled more than 120 stories and dipped my toes into every section of the newspaper. Along my climb to this mountaintop, I’ve also hit some rough patches.

Besides giving me a sense of belonging, this paper has taught me a lot about life.

In my first few semesters, I thought I was on a three-step ladder to the top. My ego told me that I could be Editor in chief in four semesters. It took me six.

In Fall 2007, I was demoted from managing editor to opinion editor. I thought, “Well, so much for being a journalism prodigy.”

That same semester, I ended up winning a first-place prize for a column I wrote at a Southern California journalism conference.

Then in Fall 2008, I was denied after asking to be the Editor in chief.

My advisor told me I was too timid to run the paper.

But I never gave up. In turn, I learned to chase the news.

My advisor, Patricia Stark, who put up road blocks to what I thought was a “straight shot to success,” taught me something I’ll never forget: Sometimes it’s best to step back, and evaluate my surroundings before I decide what to do next. And sometimes the best advice isn’t my own.

So my time to tango has ended, but before I go and venture onto whatever’s next, I’d like to holler at some important figures that helped me get here.

To the editors: Good luck, and continue to practice excellence.

To the readers: We did it all for you.

To my mentors: I couldn’t have done it without you.

Whoever takes my place: Run the photos big. Real big.

To my girlfriend and grandmother: You told me I could when I thought I couldn’t.

To those of you that stayed with me throughout this sappy monologue: Thanks for reading.