I still write about random things a lot. I still write a lot about random things. In the wake of hearing about the closure of Interrobang, I’ve been thinking a lot about the concepts of community and family, and how proud I once felt being embraced by the publication and by the FSU. I haven’t been on campus in a minute, so I recognize I don’t know what your experience is like, but I wish I could convey to you how it felt to be a Fanshawe student there during healthier times.

Comedian Josh Johnson of The Daily Show is a prolific writer and constantly tours, performing stand-up across the US and uploading new material to his YouTube page every Tuesday. On March 18, Johnson posted, “The Only Way to Survive a Recession” — recorded from his set in Charleston, SC, the week before — touching on the concept of community in light of the climate in the US since the change of leadership in January.

“Your future is your neighbour, there’s no other way forward,” he said, among his anecdotes of early independent life and playful takes on American culture at large. “If there’s a community that you want around you, all you have to do is be its founder. It’s so much more likely that you’re going to build community than you’re going to become a billionaire.”

I can’t think of a better word than “community” to describe the energy in the Interrobang office at that time. Like countless others, I began working at the publication thanks to the work study program on campus; I’ll never forget meeting publication manager John Said in 2009 and his unexpected advice to write whatever I felt like writing so that I wouldn’t quit a short time later when schoolwork became overwhelming.

A man of few words, he’s always struck me as a Lorne Michaels–type, someone with a keen eye for potential and innate understanding of student life, and did I ever appreciate his guidance, friendship and sense of humour. He built a community around the publication and the office, and being a part of it  — and a part of the culture of Fanshawe College and of London itself — was an incredible honour.

I couldn’t be further from a journalist at that time, yet Interrobang gave me an opportunity to develop a voice as a storyteller and a platform to share the stories of others. Along the way I gained so many stories of my own, like traveling to Buffalo for a chance to interview Arkells’ front man Max Kerman in advance of the band headlining our frosh concert in 2010. The band barely made it through US Customs in time to play that night, while on the other hand I arrived early enough to play road hockey with members of Tokyo Police Club outside their tour bus with a squash ball.

What an epiphany it was to realize I could apply for media accreditation to music festivals, summers were never the same. Interrobang was the first to publish anything on Toronto band PUP, though they played under a different name at the time. A few months into existence, they played at Comfort Zone during NXNE in 2011 and now 14 years later, they’ve toured the world countless times and will release their fifth studio album in May.

Later that same summer I covered Osheaga in 2011, tromping around in the July Montreal heat, shouldering camera equipment borrowed from student resources in the library. I remember being exhausted and navigating the Metro and agreeing to take a photo with someone I didn’t know simply because I was wearing a shirt that said, “relax, I’m hilarious.”

I can track so much of what has happened in my life back to that one meeting in 2009 and all the opportunities that have resulted from it. Connections that I made during my long tenure as a columnist got my foot in the door of the music and broadcast industries, establishing friendships that I cherish to this day.

Interrobang has always been a gift, a voice for students and an anchor on campus and throughout the city. I feel immensely grateful to John Said  — and to my early editors Jessica Ireland and Erika Faust  — for taking a chance on me, a goofball that could put together a sentence. And I feel deeply saddened and disappointed by the shortsighted decision to terminate its operations. One more time, I’m out of words.