This is the story of a girl. (She did not, however, cry a river and drown the whole world.)
This particular girl was 18. Her newly cropped locks were awkward, but she was confident. Confident that the next four years of her life would be saturated with precious memories, new friends, and new experiences. When she learned about her new school’s radio station, she knew it would be the best way to achieve all three. (Spoiler alert: it’s me.)
The first meeting for future WIXQ DJs was held in the basement on a muggy Sunday evening. The idea of crowding into a small, stuffy station with a bunch of strangers was less than ideal. Somehow, once the station door opened, nothing else mattered. I finally felt as though I was where I needed to be.
Somehow, it was everything I had expected and a complete surprise at the same time. The old, worn pleather couches would have grossed me out in other settings, but in the station, they boasted character and made me feel at home. Pictures of DJs from yesteryears made me feel like I was joining a big, happy family. Stacks of dog-eared vinyl cases hovered in every open space.
Three years later, it feels as though just about everything in my life has changed. My once-short hair has grown past my shoulders and has been subjected to flat irons, curling irons, bleach, and dye. (My love of different hairstyles may change, but my love for WIXQ never will.) My beloved Plymouth Neon from high school was sold in favor of buying a safer, low-mileage car. The friends I thought would be with me through every step of life have vanished. What was once the best dining hall on campus is now just a dark room of overflow seating. One constant in my life is WIXQ.
Few things are more exhilarating to me than the feeling of knowing that three hours’ worth of content a week is there because of me. Every song I add to the queue, every interaction I make with friends and family that listen, every PSA and show promo during those three hours are there because of me.
Few things are more relaxing to me than sitting in the dimly lit station, playing jazz and laughing with my friends. In those three hours a week, nothing can get to me.
Sitting in the basement of a campus radio station may have been the worst thing for my cell phone reception, and while I may never perform to an arena packed with sweaty fans or wear a shimmery bodysuit to the Super Bowl, the fun I’ve had and the feelings of empowerment and exhilaration make me feel like another Beyoncé.
*All images courtesy of Giphy