The rumors are true: I’m leaving the Dig to start my own social media company. The hardest part will be cleaning out my desk … I say “will be” because I’m going to wait till the last possible second to do it.
Every piece is a story.
The hot pink squishy thing from Bisco two years ago that somehow still glows and that everyone picks up when they talk to me even though it’s really gross. The unicorn mirror Smurry gave me, the blow gun from J.Pat, the #creamup Tweet-up poster, Lyssa chugging beer in the Allston Olympics.
The thank you card with a hand-drawn sad cat next to the “Take Back Boston” cover of the Dig, featuring Shawn Musgrave’s photo of a BPD officer in full gear, gun at the ready, standing in front of protestors sitting with linked arms in front of Bank of America next to a note that says “spanks for seeing my potential.”
When I started at the Dig I was dropping my iPhone into the mud while dancing at music festivals and failing miserably at Twitter. We had about two articles on digboston.com a week and 7,000 Twitter followers that summer. I had to waitress at a country club while working part-time as Web Editor and reporting from Occupy Boston by night—getting made fun of by Rush Limbaugh for my soundbite in the Guardian about my video of BPD brutality at Occupy that went viral because I tweeted it—
until finally, I got hired.
And it has truly been the best two years of my life. I found my voice here when they told me “write about anything.”
So I told that to my favorite people in the world, my writers, and when I did interviews I wasn’t afraid to say, “I know nothing. Tell me everything.”
The Dig will outlive me and the cockroaches at the end of the world. But other things will never die, too—like my untarnished memories of my dreams coming true,
and my friendships with all of you.