I decided to study journalism while standing in a Wawa checkout line at 2 a.m. on a Monday. The day before, my very first byline — a feature on a delightfully quirky and profound one-man museum — had been printed, ink to paper, in The Gainesville Sun.
It was surreal. I never once imagined I'd have a byline. I was a public relations major, forced to take Reporting. What sophomore-year Pristine dreamed of was a grey-hair-inducing career in political communications. Journalism never crossed my mind as an option.
But in the wee hours of that Monday morning, I held a copy of The Sun from the Wawa newspaper stand in one hand, some fries and a Diet Coke balanced in the other, and marveled at my own published words. Something clicked. I wanted to chase that feeling forever.
That semester, I switched my major. I tweeted, rather obliviously, that I was “subjecting myself to a major in journalism, not because I want to become a journalist but because writing stories is fun and interesting and I like talking to people.” I also predicted, rather correctly, that I would never again have free time nor adequate sleep.
It was a terrifying decision to make halfway through my college years, which I had so meticulously planned down to the credit hour on a gargantuan, color-coded spreadsheet. It was also the right decision, because it led me to The Alligator.
The Alligator has been my home for four semesters. My Sundays haven't been free in a long time, and increasingly, neither have the rest of my weekdays. But every moment I spent with this paper was a formative one. I've learned to be persistent and humble (many of my darlings became casualties, though not without a bit of a fight). I've learned how to push myself harder and what happens when I push too far. I've learned to extend grace to others, and I've tried to extend grace to myself.
It isn't easy to make a paper, not that anyone told me it would be. Leaving the office well after sunset, I often felt more crushed than accomplished. But one must imagine Sisyphus happy, and in spite of the horrors, I was. Where else could I be maddeningly pedantic about commas and hyphenation and still be loved?
My face ached from tears, but not as much as it ached from laughter. Nowhere have I been so vexed and so vilified. Nowhere have I been so fulfilled, and nowhere have I so flourished.
I owe it to the people who put their trust in me: the editors who took a chance when they hired (and kept rehiring) me, the copy desk that went along with my optimistic overhaul, the contributing writers who let me shape their articles and journeys, the sources who placed their stories into my hands. I hope I did right by all of you. I did my best to.
To Corey Fiske, Juliana DeFilippo, Luke Adragna, Bailey Diem and SJ Ranta: Thank you for always lifting my spirits or commiserating with me when I needed it. You indulged me, enabled me, gave me a ride, gave me a hug and let me be my honest self. Your reassurance carried me through the rough patches, and your humor permanently rewired my brain. I'll see glimmers of you everywhere I go.
To Sophia Bailly: You marvelous ball of sunshine. I can't believe our first texts were about the Honors Village debacle. Giving up my status as an Alligator informant was worth it to work with you. You are at once so tough and so gentle, and you always know what to say when I'm crashing out. I'm so privileged to share my love of cats, D.C. and Olive Garden's Never Ending Pasta Bowl with you. Thank you for all the rides to the office and to the beach (which I'm paying you back for). I owe you a batch of brownies.
To Alissa Gary: I'm so glad you were my very first Alligator friend. Thank you for believing I could join the bright side, even when I didn't; you helped me find where I belong. I can only ever hope to be as level-headed, optimistic and generous as you are. Beach wouldn't have happened without the best personal driver and photographer in the world. You're such a formidable journalist, and I can't wait to see your byline everywhere. We'll meet again, probably for a Beli marathon in D.C. or Paris. I just know it. Meow!
To Megan Howard: I wish I met you sooner. You are like the yang to my yin in so many ways, and I truly believe we have changed each other's lives for the better. I feel safe confiding in you about literally anything (and I'm sorry for sometimes confiding too much). I sleep better knowing you're editing the stories I pass. The hostess with the mostest, the best mom to Marley, the most fundamentally iconic person I know — thank you for encouraging me to live life to the fullest and to (responsibly) build and spread lore. Every spritz I have is in your honor.
To Zoey Thomas: My beautiful Midwestern princess. My ride to too many places. My emotional support editor. What would I have done without you? You are so strong and brave and resilient. This paper succeeded because of you. I'll never get sick of being your line dancing and tailgating buddy. I'm sorry I was scared of you during my first semester on staff. I'm not at all sorry for going full koala on you at the cabin. Thank you for being my rock, for letting me pass out in your apartment and for entertaining my incredibly dubious conspiracy theories and vendettas. You always take such good care of me. I love you.
To The Alligator: People ask me how I've been. They ask me what I've gotten up to. They ask me what I do, who I am, what gets me out of bed in the morning, what keeps me up at night, what adventures roam in the wild west of my world. All of my answers lead back to here. Back to home. Back to you. You are my everything. Thank you for everything.
Pristine Thai was the Spring 2026 Senior News Director and Copy Desk Chief.
Pristine is The Alligator's Spring 2026 senior news director and copy desk chief, roles she also held in Fall 2025. A UF political science and journalism senior, she previously served as a university general assignment reporter and a copy editor. Her free time is spent attending classical music concerts, roaming walkable cities and befriending feral cats.
