Have I ever told you the story of how I first got involved with Discorder? Apologies if you’re already familiar with this tale, but I think it’s important to mention before I get into the thesis of my Editor’s Note.
I can’t remember exactly when or where I was the first time I read Discorder. It’s more than likely that I was just drunk at the Biltmore one night and picked up a copy, but my memory, like most nights spent at the Cabaret, is blurry. I must’ve found the magazine afterwards on Facebook because I ended up reading about the monthly proofing party happening in the CiTR lounge that Sunday. At this point I didn’t even know what a “CiTR” was but I thought the magazine was rad and I didn’t have a job at the time, so I hauled ass out to UBC to check it out. After 20 minutes of me asking strangers where I could find Discorder, I eventually found my way into the Students’ Union Building and into the wonderful world that is CiTR.
The proofing party was a goddamn disaster. The Editor-in-chief at the time, Gregory Adams, was a pleasant, friendly guy and I was an anxious, sweaty wreck. I remember trying to avoid eye contact, afraid that at any moment someone would realize I had no idea what I was doing and boot me from the room. Everyone in the room had some kind of musical trivia to contribute to the light bantering and I was keeping busy trying to put a cap on my self-consciousness.
At one point someone offered me a fresh strawberry to snack on and I accidentally told them that I was allergic — I meant to say that they sometimes gave me hives but my anxiety muddled my words. I remember the person apologizing and me trying to assure the group that I wouldn’t be dying from anaphylactic shock at any given moment, but I couldn’t recover from the weird mix-up. I’m pretty sure I just went to the bathroom and never came back. If you look at our archives online and find the April 2011 issue, I was credited under Proofreaders as “A kind young man name[d] JC whom we know is very allergic to strawberries.” The issue marked the first time I ever appeared in Discorder.
So what do my bumbling personal encounters have to do with anything? Without volunteers and people contributing to Discorder, this magazine wouldn’t exist. Two and a half years ago, I was just some awkward guy wandering into CiTR, unsure of what I was even doing there. Now, I have weekly office hours and my own polaroid on the door. You never know where these kinds of things might take you and I encourage everyone reading this, whether you’re a writer, photographer, illustrator, or even just someone who loves music, to get involved. Come out to one of our meetings, join us for a proofing party, or just drop by the office and come say hi. There’s something at this magazine for everyone — and you don’t even have to be allergic to strawberries.
So it goes,