It's funny. Last year, I would have given anything to take an extra weekend off from helping 7-year-olds learn how to answer "Can a dog fly?" and fly myself to some exotic, foreign European country. And now, when I have five days to do whatever I want with them, I can't seem to figure out what to do with them.
Five furlough days from work means five days of not working (hooray!) but five less days of pay (boo!). And I'd rather not spend that week doing nothing but sleeping, much like I did over my Christmas vacation last week.
Having taken every chance I had to travel last year, spending a week doing nothing at home seems both boring and a waste of time. Do I need a reality check or a whole new brain?
Monday, December 28, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
I need rules
After a chat took place between my roommate and myself today, I discovered that unlike her, I need rules.
I need structure in my life, I need to know what comes next. I need to know what is expected of me and what my purpose is. Which is why it's been frustrating working at a place where there just aren't enough hands to provide some of that structure.
In remembering my 6th grade math teacher, Mr. Wallace (whose parents coincidentally lived next door to me), I remember him telling me to trust myself and stop asking questions. And while I recognize that asking questions is what I do, and what I love to do, I really should go out of my way more and take a few risks. Do some things without asking and just follow my own common sense. I'm bound to make mistakes, but there are safety nets in place and I must learn to trust them, and myself, to keep me from doing really dumb and stupid shit.
On an unrelated note, I have the next four days off! Mini-vacation. What shall I do with my time, besides sleep? Suggestions?
I need structure in my life, I need to know what comes next. I need to know what is expected of me and what my purpose is. Which is why it's been frustrating working at a place where there just aren't enough hands to provide some of that structure.
In remembering my 6th grade math teacher, Mr. Wallace (whose parents coincidentally lived next door to me), I remember him telling me to trust myself and stop asking questions. And while I recognize that asking questions is what I do, and what I love to do, I really should go out of my way more and take a few risks. Do some things without asking and just follow my own common sense. I'm bound to make mistakes, but there are safety nets in place and I must learn to trust them, and myself, to keep me from doing really dumb and stupid shit.
On an unrelated note, I have the next four days off! Mini-vacation. What shall I do with my time, besides sleep? Suggestions?
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Rocker nutcrackers and a good black tea
I was sticking to my guns as a Colorado-raised gal and refusing to buy a space heater for my ancient, icebox-of-a-home. Today, I caved in.
Given that the high today was 7 degrees, it's safe to say that my purchase of a space heater really was a necessity. My icebox house, surrounded by thick, hanging icicles that can only add to the house's "creepy" vibe, does not have central heating. Instead, there are two large furnaces, one for each side of the room. The living room is completely unheated and the two upstairs rooms, converted into balconies, rely on the law of nature that pushes hot air up. Needless to say, with my door closed, the only thing keeping me from the natural elements is the insulation (if any) between the four oddly-shaped walls in my attic room.
Opting to suck it up and buy a space heater, I travel to Target (the temperature at a smoldering zero degrees). While walking through the aisles, I was struck by one particular Christmas item -- the rock star nutcracker.
Unlike the traditional Russian-military nutcrackers, this one was wearing black leather pants and had a guitar strapped across its little wooden body. To compliment Mr. Rock, the nutcracker next to him was a tough-as-nails punk nutcracker, with pink hair and a mini-skirt. I attempted to take photos of these bad-ass nutcrackers but failed because the memory on my camera phone is full with pictures I took of The Bravery and The Sounds during their shows last month.
I found these nutcrackers amusing, and I hope to return to Target soon to photograph, if not purchase these amazingly useless items.
Now I'm off to write a profile for work before I go to bed. I think my mental sanity is more important than doing an hour's worth of work off the clock.
Given that the high today was 7 degrees, it's safe to say that my purchase of a space heater really was a necessity. My icebox house, surrounded by thick, hanging icicles that can only add to the house's "creepy" vibe, does not have central heating. Instead, there are two large furnaces, one for each side of the room. The living room is completely unheated and the two upstairs rooms, converted into balconies, rely on the law of nature that pushes hot air up. Needless to say, with my door closed, the only thing keeping me from the natural elements is the insulation (if any) between the four oddly-shaped walls in my attic room.
Opting to suck it up and buy a space heater, I travel to Target (the temperature at a smoldering zero degrees). While walking through the aisles, I was struck by one particular Christmas item -- the rock star nutcracker.
Unlike the traditional Russian-military nutcrackers, this one was wearing black leather pants and had a guitar strapped across its little wooden body. To compliment Mr. Rock, the nutcracker next to him was a tough-as-nails punk nutcracker, with pink hair and a mini-skirt. I attempted to take photos of these bad-ass nutcrackers but failed because the memory on my camera phone is full with pictures I took of The Bravery and The Sounds during their shows last month.
I found these nutcrackers amusing, and I hope to return to Target soon to photograph, if not purchase these amazingly useless items.
Now I'm off to write a profile for work before I go to bed. I think my mental sanity is more important than doing an hour's worth of work off the clock.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Ending the week with a bit of tzatziki
I had a pretty hectic week this week -- covering a crime story, something I really haven't done outside of class. What I found more difficult about covering this story was writing the actual article rather than the reporting, which is the opposite of how I normally feel.
In any case, since it's Friday and PAYDAY I went out on the town looking for a delicious dinner. Since I couldn't really decide on anything specific, I drove around Fort Collins, looking for something to catch my eye. What I found made me happy enough to dance on the streets in the 10-degree weather we're having.
Yum Yum, the Mediterranean/Arabic restaurant I found, satisfied the need I had for chicken schwarma. At last I've found falafel, I told myself. The smell of lime, basil and grilled chicken filled my heart with joy. The taste of my meal, however, left much to be desired.
The chicken in my schwarma was undercooked, which I recognize happens often in schwarma. I mean, what can you realistically expect when you cook your meat by making it spin on a giant tube?
If the pink meat wasn't enough, the way it was sliced was certainly of no help. Rather than slicing the meat into thin strips, the chicken was chopped into chunks -- large chunks, at that.
Hoping the tzatziki sauce might be a better bet, I uncovered the styrofoam cup to find large chunks of cucumber (anyone else seeing a trend?) The large pieces of cucumber and onion really overpowered the lime flavor and the small pieces of pita made eating the sauce complicated. Utilizing less cucumbers (and in smaller sizes) would certainly have helped, as would cutting down on the onions.
Overall, not a bad dinner for $12.00. But I'm a bit disappointed, Yum Yum. With the quality of food, I think you're only think you're qualified for one Yum.
In any case, since it's Friday and PAYDAY I went out on the town looking for a delicious dinner. Since I couldn't really decide on anything specific, I drove around Fort Collins, looking for something to catch my eye. What I found made me happy enough to dance on the streets in the 10-degree weather we're having.
Yum Yum, the Mediterranean/Arabic restaurant I found, satisfied the need I had for chicken schwarma. At last I've found falafel, I told myself. The smell of lime, basil and grilled chicken filled my heart with joy. The taste of my meal, however, left much to be desired.
The chicken in my schwarma was undercooked, which I recognize happens often in schwarma. I mean, what can you realistically expect when you cook your meat by making it spin on a giant tube?
If the pink meat wasn't enough, the way it was sliced was certainly of no help. Rather than slicing the meat into thin strips, the chicken was chopped into chunks -- large chunks, at that.
Hoping the tzatziki sauce might be a better bet, I uncovered the styrofoam cup to find large chunks of cucumber (anyone else seeing a trend?) The large pieces of cucumber and onion really overpowered the lime flavor and the small pieces of pita made eating the sauce complicated. Utilizing less cucumbers (and in smaller sizes) would certainly have helped, as would cutting down on the onions.
Overall, not a bad dinner for $12.00. But I'm a bit disappointed, Yum Yum. With the quality of food, I think you're only think you're qualified for one Yum.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Living without television
I was never much of a TV person. The only shows I can remember watching regularly were The O.C. and recently, So You Think You Can Dance. There was a time I was really into Prison Break during its first season, but that fizzled.
In any case, my new home does not have cable. Nor does it have a strong "local channels" signal, which basically means that I can't watch any television at all. Not the local NBC, ABC, CBS or FOX affiliates. Which means no SYTYCD, or even crappy CSI.
Even worse is the fact that because my roommate works evenings and I've always grown up with noise around me, my damn house is too quiet. My bedroom is upstairs so I have to lug my laptop around with me wherever I go -- from the kitchen to the living room and back to my room. Normally, I'd plop myself in front of the TV or chat with someone while eating dinner, but that's hard to do when there is no one to talk to and nothing but blurry images to watch.
So I guess this means that I am going to get cable. Which equates to another bill to pay/keep track of. More and more, this "real world" thing is becoming a bummer.
Now I have to go return two DVDs to Blockbuster AND take out the trash. In two inches of snow. Which I had to shovel this morning before going to work. And I'm starting to think eating these expired carrots was a bad idea.
In any case, my new home does not have cable. Nor does it have a strong "local channels" signal, which basically means that I can't watch any television at all. Not the local NBC, ABC, CBS or FOX affiliates. Which means no SYTYCD, or even crappy CSI.
Even worse is the fact that because my roommate works evenings and I've always grown up with noise around me, my damn house is too quiet. My bedroom is upstairs so I have to lug my laptop around with me wherever I go -- from the kitchen to the living room and back to my room. Normally, I'd plop myself in front of the TV or chat with someone while eating dinner, but that's hard to do when there is no one to talk to and nothing but blurry images to watch.
So I guess this means that I am going to get cable. Which equates to another bill to pay/keep track of. More and more, this "real world" thing is becoming a bummer.
Now I have to go return two DVDs to Blockbuster AND take out the trash. In two inches of snow. Which I had to shovel this morning before going to work. And I'm starting to think eating these expired carrots was a bad idea.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Featuring my nose ring
My rebellious stage came (not surprisingly) in college, when I was away from the 'rents and old enough to do ridiculous things to myself in the name of originality. Fortunately, I feel I am level-headed enough not to have done anything I regret too much -- although dying my hair black and then trying to bleach it back to a light brown was a very, very hard lesson to learn.
My first act of rebellion came during spring break of my freshman year. Oddly enough, I was back at home when I decided I would finally go through what I had been telling myself for ages I would do -- pierce my nose.
Amber, one of my good friends, and I set out for the piercing parlor on a sunny, March afternoon. She was getting her lip pierced, I was determined to pierce my nose. I got it done and went back home, feeling like a badass. (I often wonder where that ballsy, badass Marcy went nowadays. I feel like such a chicken.) It was a few hours before my parents realized that no, it wasn't a big zit I had on my nose. It was an emerald green stone that was in my nose through the hole I'd had made in it.
In any case, fast forward to four years later, when I'm trying to become a productive, working member of society. While no one I've ever worked for has ever complained or said a thing about my nose ring, I'm starting to wonder if it's something I should keep. I really, really like it -- in spite of my many piercings, it's still one of my favorites. But I wonder how parents and professional sources see it. To the naysayers that dislike me and think I'm incompetent, is the nose ring a symbol of my youth and inexperience? I know I look young and that my hair, makeup and wardrobe don't help much, but is the nose ring the final hammer in the "professional Marcy" coffin?
I've opted to try and find the tiniest nose ring possible, but I wonder if maybe it's just time for me to say goodbye to it as well as my originality. Maybe it's time to give in to the looming, cookie-cutter image I'm destined to become because of my job but avoided for so long.
I hate business attire and the corporate world. Colored, full-sleeve dragon tattoos and lip rings for everyone, I say!
My first act of rebellion came during spring break of my freshman year. Oddly enough, I was back at home when I decided I would finally go through what I had been telling myself for ages I would do -- pierce my nose.
Amber, one of my good friends, and I set out for the piercing parlor on a sunny, March afternoon. She was getting her lip pierced, I was determined to pierce my nose. I got it done and went back home, feeling like a badass. (I often wonder where that ballsy, badass Marcy went nowadays. I feel like such a chicken.) It was a few hours before my parents realized that no, it wasn't a big zit I had on my nose. It was an emerald green stone that was in my nose through the hole I'd had made in it.
In any case, fast forward to four years later, when I'm trying to become a productive, working member of society. While no one I've ever worked for has ever complained or said a thing about my nose ring, I'm starting to wonder if it's something I should keep. I really, really like it -- in spite of my many piercings, it's still one of my favorites. But I wonder how parents and professional sources see it. To the naysayers that dislike me and think I'm incompetent, is the nose ring a symbol of my youth and inexperience? I know I look young and that my hair, makeup and wardrobe don't help much, but is the nose ring the final hammer in the "professional Marcy" coffin?
I've opted to try and find the tiniest nose ring possible, but I wonder if maybe it's just time for me to say goodbye to it as well as my originality. Maybe it's time to give in to the looming, cookie-cutter image I'm destined to become because of my job but avoided for so long.
I hate business attire and the corporate world. Colored, full-sleeve dragon tattoos and lip rings for everyone, I say!
Friday, November 6, 2009
Moving
So after a full month and two weeks of commuting two hours a day, I've finally moved in and started to settle into a little, blue, 19th century home across the street from Fort Collins' largest park. It's a three-bed, one bath house with a huge lawn and its in the older part of town, which means it's far from everything except large oak trees and lots of grass. I must admit, I like it.
I'm currently living with one of the paper's newest photographers, and the two of us sleep in the upstairs rooms, which have a "converted attic" feel. The ceilings are low and slanted, the doors are small and the hardwood floors have that older look and feel to them. There's even a loose floorboard near my closet!
Having moved in on Thursday, I realized that I really don't have a lot of stuff, and I am not at all planning on getting tons more of it. After seeing how much effort my roommate has put into making the rest of the house, including her room, look so awesome and cozy, I have settled for my bed, a blue and brown carpet and two plastic drawers I bought at Target. The weird thing is, I have no desire to really go all out and make my room look kickass. My mom tried convincing me to get a real dresser and a bedside table, but I refused. It's not necessary, I kept repeating.
After realizing I was making my roomie do all the decorating work, I got to thinking about how I don't care about making my home look and feel homey because I haven't been in one steady place for longer than 9 months in the past five years. After living like a crab, carrying everything on my back, I no longer have the ganas to try and get furniture that I'll have to move around, or to collect stuff that I will ultimately have to get rid of. It happened in Evanston, it happened in Madrid, and I can't shake off the feeling that it will happen here.
Even though I foresee myself sticking around Fort Collins for a while (at least two years, I'm telling myself, in spite of my developed city-ADD), I can't seem to see how it's worthwhile to put so much effort into a place that I am not entire sold on. Especially since I know that I'll be down at my parents' house on the weekends.
I can't figure out if I should try to convince myself to try and get settled here and really put some effort into my room and home, or if I should just maintain my blasse attitude. Time will tell...
I'm currently living with one of the paper's newest photographers, and the two of us sleep in the upstairs rooms, which have a "converted attic" feel. The ceilings are low and slanted, the doors are small and the hardwood floors have that older look and feel to them. There's even a loose floorboard near my closet!
Having moved in on Thursday, I realized that I really don't have a lot of stuff, and I am not at all planning on getting tons more of it. After seeing how much effort my roommate has put into making the rest of the house, including her room, look so awesome and cozy, I have settled for my bed, a blue and brown carpet and two plastic drawers I bought at Target. The weird thing is, I have no desire to really go all out and make my room look kickass. My mom tried convincing me to get a real dresser and a bedside table, but I refused. It's not necessary, I kept repeating.
After realizing I was making my roomie do all the decorating work, I got to thinking about how I don't care about making my home look and feel homey because I haven't been in one steady place for longer than 9 months in the past five years. After living like a crab, carrying everything on my back, I no longer have the ganas to try and get furniture that I'll have to move around, or to collect stuff that I will ultimately have to get rid of. It happened in Evanston, it happened in Madrid, and I can't shake off the feeling that it will happen here.
Even though I foresee myself sticking around Fort Collins for a while (at least two years, I'm telling myself, in spite of my developed city-ADD), I can't seem to see how it's worthwhile to put so much effort into a place that I am not entire sold on. Especially since I know that I'll be down at my parents' house on the weekends.
I can't figure out if I should try to convince myself to try and get settled here and really put some effort into my room and home, or if I should just maintain my blasse attitude. Time will tell...
Sunday, October 25, 2009
after a month
Last Thursday marked my first-month anniversary at work. Within those 30(ish) days, I've already come to learn several things:
*It is not okay to try and break the rules of journalism when you're just starting. Yes, you still need a hard news nut graf, and you still need to introduce a direct quote by the third or fourth graf. In general, the most basic rules of news writing still apply. Period.
*Every day is a roller coaster. Some days I'm riding high, others I'm well below the levels of the subterranean transit systems in Madrid and Chicago.
*I will be forever broke. It's bad enough when you are living paycheck to paycheck, but it's even worse when you are already spending the money for hours you haven't even worked yet.
*I should have gone into magazines. I'm not a hard-news person, I love writing long and colorful stories, and I can't write quickly.
That said, I am still basically liking my job a lot. Maybe not loving it just yet, but I'm hoping to stick it out for a bit and ride it out. Worst-case scenario: I get fired. While that would suck, life would go on.
Enjoy my latest story here
*It is not okay to try and break the rules of journalism when you're just starting. Yes, you still need a hard news nut graf, and you still need to introduce a direct quote by the third or fourth graf. In general, the most basic rules of news writing still apply. Period.
*Every day is a roller coaster. Some days I'm riding high, others I'm well below the levels of the subterranean transit systems in Madrid and Chicago.
*I will be forever broke. It's bad enough when you are living paycheck to paycheck, but it's even worse when you are already spending the money for hours you haven't even worked yet.
*I should have gone into magazines. I'm not a hard-news person, I love writing long and colorful stories, and I can't write quickly.
That said, I am still basically liking my job a lot. Maybe not loving it just yet, but I'm hoping to stick it out for a bit and ride it out. Worst-case scenario: I get fired. While that would suck, life would go on.
Enjoy my latest story here
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Moving to nowhere
So I knew when I took this new job that I would (eventually) be moving to a much smaller and less cosmopolitan city than I have been living in for the past few years. But I didn't realize just how small Fort Collins is.
Today, I had the opportunity to see a sheep being sheared, to ride on a stack of hay pulled by a tractor, and to learn about meat safety.
Then, on my way back home, a tumbleweed flew across Interstate 25.
Realization: Colorado is still the old west.
Today, I had the opportunity to see a sheep being sheared, to ride on a stack of hay pulled by a tractor, and to learn about meat safety.
Then, on my way back home, a tumbleweed flew across Interstate 25.
Realization: Colorado is still the old west.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Is this the legend of Ron Burgundy?
While listening to the radio on my hour-drive to work yesterday (my new wheels come with a grade-A tape deck -- that's right, it's too ancient for even a CD player!) I came across this song:
Right away, the lyrics seemed very familiar, and suddenly a scene from one of my favorite movies came flooding into my mind. "Why are Flo-Rida and Ne-Yo channeling Will Ferrell and this fantastic movie?" I asked myself.
Some basic internet googling hasn't turned up a real answer yet. Any legitimate sources would be appreciated here -- just send 'em right back!
Right away, the lyrics seemed very familiar, and suddenly a scene from one of my favorite movies came flooding into my mind. "Why are Flo-Rida and Ne-Yo channeling Will Ferrell and this fantastic movie?" I asked myself.
Some basic internet googling hasn't turned up a real answer yet. Any legitimate sources would be appreciated here -- just send 'em right back!
Kerouac-like lines
Yesterday was my first day as a real, paid journalist (not counting last summer's paid internship in San Antonio), and I have to say, it was rather uneventful. As I don't have a login ID yet, I couldn't access a computer, and as such, spent the day wasting time and trying to reach as much actual print as possible. I know, it's crazy to think that a modern-day journalist didn't actually stare at a screen for eight hours. It was nice just to be able to take in the newsroom and its operation before being thrown to the wolves.
Fast-forward to today, when I had some assignments and ended the day feeling like a complete failure. Seemingly simple things (two 8" briefs) took me about three and a half hours to write. Along the way, I realized a few things:
* I am rusty, and I mean RUSTY. A cooper fork left on a Seattle home's front porch is probably in better shape than my writing. My sentence structure was awkward, I was having hella trouble trying to find the flow of the story, and I'm not going to even mention my leads. I tried channeling John Kupetz and his mighty green pen for the afternoon, but it didn't get me very far.
* I am easily distracted. I remember when I first started writing for the Daily that my Devo editor Sheila recommended all of us Devo writers to come into the newsroom to write our stories. I recall finding it hard to concentrate with all the buzz going on around me. Today, I felt like that old 18-yr-old Marcy on the Norris 3rd floor, trying desperately to drown out the sounds of police scanners, reporters buzzing about arrested teachers and editors coming and going from their meeting to re-arrange Page 1. It was hard to get used to then, I hope this time around it's not.
* I have very little recollection of AP Style. In fact, I had to go out to Barnes and Noble this afternoon and buy a new stylebook, because I have absolutely no idea where my old one is. It's quite sad, really, I had little notes in the old one and highlights. Not to mention all the sentimental attachments I had to it. Same with my missing dictionary.
* NAHJ's mission to diversify newsrooms is extremely important. In my newsroom, I am the minority. Not only am I one of five females in the newsroom (including editors, designers and copy editors) but I am also the youngest reporter. And, of course, the only non-white person in the entire newsroom. Granted, it's small (about 25-30 people) but I still had that feeling of "awkward" when you go somewhere and realize you kind of stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone is extremely nice and helpful, and in no way has this been an issue or even discussed, but I feel it on a personal level. And it's yet another thing for me to get used to.
I know I have quite a huge learning curve ahead of me, and I'm starting to doubt whether or not I can handle this. Not to say that I think I'll sink -- I know I can keep myself afloat. But I'm starting to wonder how many fuckups the paper's willing to take before they can someone.
Fast-forward to today, when I had some assignments and ended the day feeling like a complete failure. Seemingly simple things (two 8" briefs) took me about three and a half hours to write. Along the way, I realized a few things:
* I am rusty, and I mean RUSTY. A cooper fork left on a Seattle home's front porch is probably in better shape than my writing. My sentence structure was awkward, I was having hella trouble trying to find the flow of the story, and I'm not going to even mention my leads. I tried channeling John Kupetz and his mighty green pen for the afternoon, but it didn't get me very far.
* I am easily distracted. I remember when I first started writing for the Daily that my Devo editor Sheila recommended all of us Devo writers to come into the newsroom to write our stories. I recall finding it hard to concentrate with all the buzz going on around me. Today, I felt like that old 18-yr-old Marcy on the Norris 3rd floor, trying desperately to drown out the sounds of police scanners, reporters buzzing about arrested teachers and editors coming and going from their meeting to re-arrange Page 1. It was hard to get used to then, I hope this time around it's not.
* I have very little recollection of AP Style. In fact, I had to go out to Barnes and Noble this afternoon and buy a new stylebook, because I have absolutely no idea where my old one is. It's quite sad, really, I had little notes in the old one and highlights. Not to mention all the sentimental attachments I had to it. Same with my missing dictionary.
* NAHJ's mission to diversify newsrooms is extremely important. In my newsroom, I am the minority. Not only am I one of five females in the newsroom (including editors, designers and copy editors) but I am also the youngest reporter. And, of course, the only non-white person in the entire newsroom. Granted, it's small (about 25-30 people) but I still had that feeling of "awkward" when you go somewhere and realize you kind of stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone is extremely nice and helpful, and in no way has this been an issue or even discussed, but I feel it on a personal level. And it's yet another thing for me to get used to.
I know I have quite a huge learning curve ahead of me, and I'm starting to doubt whether or not I can handle this. Not to say that I think I'll sink -- I know I can keep myself afloat. But I'm starting to wonder how many fuckups the paper's willing to take before they can someone.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
You CAN have your cake and eat it too!
I've always heard from other, more experienced journalists that getting a job is really just a matter of timing. I hated hearing that, because it made things seem as though they were out of my control, something I'm still learning to deal with. But, I'm going to have to give it up for them this time, and say they were totally on the money with that one.
Two weeks ago, I gave my previous employer my two-weeks' notice. I was slated to move into the telecommunications field, working for a large telephone company and earning $3 more. Plus, I was going to say goodbye to the 4 a.m. mornings and the drives to random Colorado mountain towns. All in all, I was pretty ambivalent about the change of jobs itself, but excited about the extra sleep.
And then things changed -- very quickly. During my last week at Lifetouch, the telephone company called and told me they were canceling the training class I was supposed to be a part of. I wasn't completely sure what to think, and I debated between going back to my job as a photographer or starting the new job hunt which was inevitable, given that the photography position was a seasonal gig.
In between that period, I applied for a reporting position I saw listed on JournalismJobs.com at a paper an hour away. I saw the listing one Friday, and by the following Wednesday it was gone. Feeling bummed and thinking I had lost out on that chance, I debated whether or not to send my clips along. Thankfully, my sister offered me a piece of advice I like to give out myself: "Just do it. The only thing you have to lose is a few minutes of time."
Thinking of e-mailing the editor and asking for an informational interview in the future, I opted to stick with my photography job for a few more weeks. And as I sat photographing kindergarteners in Boulder, I got a really important call that I think I'm going to remember for a very long time -- a call from the managing editor of the Fort Collins Coloradoan, a 29,000 circulation paper in the northern Colorado town of Fort Collins. She wanted me to go in for an interview.
Fast forward to yesterday and the interview. Despite being nervous, and feeling a bit overdressed in that newsroom, I was hopeful that things would work out. Ft. Collins is only 60 miles from my house, and a nice college town where most of my high school friends lived during college (although unfortunately only one continues to reside there). It's a place where I could see myself living for a while. It's close enough to home that I can be here every day, if I wanted to, but far enough that I can also establish a life for myself while keeping my parents at bay. After a two-hour interview with two editors and another newbie reporter, I sat in on the morning budget meeting, got to meet the executive publisher, and filled out a paper application. Still, I kept telling myself not to get too excited, and not to get overly hopeful. I know no one and nothing is owed to me, and I have come to realize that wherever I get in life will be from my own digging, my own doing, and that nothing comes without a struggle.
But I guess the timing was right, and the chips are finally starting to fall into place for me. The editor called and offered me the position this morning, meaning that starting next Tuesday, I will be the education reporter for the Fort Collins Coloradoan. In all honesty, and for all I hoped it would happen, I sort-of still can't believe that I'm actually on the road to being a legitimate journalist. I can't believe the path I've undergone over these last 23 years of my life, especially these last eight which have shape me to this point. I would have never imagined knowing so much, growing so much, and having seen so much. For all I hoped and dreamed, I can't actually believe that I'm going to be working in a newsroom, albeit a small one. I can't believe that in this shit economy there's a newspaper willing to give a rookie reporter like myself a chance. And above all, I can't believe that it's a paper right here in Colorado, and better yet, in one of the state's more legitimate, sizable cities.
I'm a very, very, very lucky person. I realized this over the last year, when I was fortunate enough to travel 10 countries throughout Europe and Africa, when I was given the chance to see some of the world's most incredible things and meet amazing people. And I continue to be grateful for the good fortune I possess which has not only allowed me to travel to fantastic places, but which now is allowing me to fulfill my career goals of becoming a journalist.
Whoever said "you can't have your cake and eat it too" was wrong. Very, very wrong. Because I was served my big slice of cake in Europe, and now I'm savoring every bit of it with a journalistic fork.
Two weeks ago, I gave my previous employer my two-weeks' notice. I was slated to move into the telecommunications field, working for a large telephone company and earning $3 more. Plus, I was going to say goodbye to the 4 a.m. mornings and the drives to random Colorado mountain towns. All in all, I was pretty ambivalent about the change of jobs itself, but excited about the extra sleep.
And then things changed -- very quickly. During my last week at Lifetouch, the telephone company called and told me they were canceling the training class I was supposed to be a part of. I wasn't completely sure what to think, and I debated between going back to my job as a photographer or starting the new job hunt which was inevitable, given that the photography position was a seasonal gig.
In between that period, I applied for a reporting position I saw listed on JournalismJobs.com at a paper an hour away. I saw the listing one Friday, and by the following Wednesday it was gone. Feeling bummed and thinking I had lost out on that chance, I debated whether or not to send my clips along. Thankfully, my sister offered me a piece of advice I like to give out myself: "Just do it. The only thing you have to lose is a few minutes of time."
Thinking of e-mailing the editor and asking for an informational interview in the future, I opted to stick with my photography job for a few more weeks. And as I sat photographing kindergarteners in Boulder, I got a really important call that I think I'm going to remember for a very long time -- a call from the managing editor of the Fort Collins Coloradoan, a 29,000 circulation paper in the northern Colorado town of Fort Collins. She wanted me to go in for an interview.
Fast forward to yesterday and the interview. Despite being nervous, and feeling a bit overdressed in that newsroom, I was hopeful that things would work out. Ft. Collins is only 60 miles from my house, and a nice college town where most of my high school friends lived during college (although unfortunately only one continues to reside there). It's a place where I could see myself living for a while. It's close enough to home that I can be here every day, if I wanted to, but far enough that I can also establish a life for myself while keeping my parents at bay. After a two-hour interview with two editors and another newbie reporter, I sat in on the morning budget meeting, got to meet the executive publisher, and filled out a paper application. Still, I kept telling myself not to get too excited, and not to get overly hopeful. I know no one and nothing is owed to me, and I have come to realize that wherever I get in life will be from my own digging, my own doing, and that nothing comes without a struggle.
But I guess the timing was right, and the chips are finally starting to fall into place for me. The editor called and offered me the position this morning, meaning that starting next Tuesday, I will be the education reporter for the Fort Collins Coloradoan. In all honesty, and for all I hoped it would happen, I sort-of still can't believe that I'm actually on the road to being a legitimate journalist. I can't believe the path I've undergone over these last 23 years of my life, especially these last eight which have shape me to this point. I would have never imagined knowing so much, growing so much, and having seen so much. For all I hoped and dreamed, I can't actually believe that I'm going to be working in a newsroom, albeit a small one. I can't believe that in this shit economy there's a newspaper willing to give a rookie reporter like myself a chance. And above all, I can't believe that it's a paper right here in Colorado, and better yet, in one of the state's more legitimate, sizable cities.
I'm a very, very, very lucky person. I realized this over the last year, when I was fortunate enough to travel 10 countries throughout Europe and Africa, when I was given the chance to see some of the world's most incredible things and meet amazing people. And I continue to be grateful for the good fortune I possess which has not only allowed me to travel to fantastic places, but which now is allowing me to fulfill my career goals of becoming a journalist.
Whoever said "you can't have your cake and eat it too" was wrong. Very, very wrong. Because I was served my big slice of cake in Europe, and now I'm savoring every bit of it with a journalistic fork.
Monday, September 7, 2009
I've completely lost myself
Further proof that I have NO CLUE who I am anymore:
I spaced buying ticket's to yesterday's Weezer show, and consequently did not go. In addition, rather than spend the evening on the fine lawn at Fidler's Green, I was at a bar watching CU and CSU play football. And hearing people talking about butt sex.
Good lord, a bit of clarity please.
I spaced buying ticket's to yesterday's Weezer show, and consequently did not go. In addition, rather than spend the evening on the fine lawn at Fidler's Green, I was at a bar watching CU and CSU play football. And hearing people talking about butt sex.
Good lord, a bit of clarity please.
Monday, August 24, 2009
Where I reach rock bottom...
I have completely lost all sense of independence, and by extension, dignity. Today cemented that.
For the past few weeks, I've been using my sister's car to get around town and my job. For the past few weeks, I've noticed that the transmission has been acting a bit funny. Rather than risk getting left in the middle of I-25 (as I feared on my trip back from Leadville), I informed my father of the car's troubles. And as such, I was left car-less today as it undergoes repairs.
Now, getting dropped off at high school in the morning was kind of ironic, and I'll admit, a bit funny. I even joked about it with my sister as I was getting out of the car and she was helping me unload about 100 lbs worth of stuff. Work was relatively fine, except for the little assholes that think they have a reason to be angsty about life, despite living in an upper-middle class neighborhood with a really steady family life.
What was NOT funny was waiting after school to get picked up. Like the old days I detested, I sat and watched as hoards of children five, six and even seven years younger than I hopped happily into their cars and drove away to their happy existence. I, on the other hand, sat in my ugly navy and sky blue work shirt, with a huge black case containing my camera and my lunch box. I sat and waited for 20 minutes until my sister came to pick me up. Like my elementary, middle, and even high school years, I was one of the last kids to get picked up.
FML.
For the past few weeks, I've been using my sister's car to get around town and my job. For the past few weeks, I've noticed that the transmission has been acting a bit funny. Rather than risk getting left in the middle of I-25 (as I feared on my trip back from Leadville), I informed my father of the car's troubles. And as such, I was left car-less today as it undergoes repairs.
Now, getting dropped off at high school in the morning was kind of ironic, and I'll admit, a bit funny. I even joked about it with my sister as I was getting out of the car and she was helping me unload about 100 lbs worth of stuff. Work was relatively fine, except for the little assholes that think they have a reason to be angsty about life, despite living in an upper-middle class neighborhood with a really steady family life.
What was NOT funny was waiting after school to get picked up. Like the old days I detested, I sat and watched as hoards of children five, six and even seven years younger than I hopped happily into their cars and drove away to their happy existence. I, on the other hand, sat in my ugly navy and sky blue work shirt, with a huge black case containing my camera and my lunch box. I sat and waited for 20 minutes until my sister came to pick me up. Like my elementary, middle, and even high school years, I was one of the last kids to get picked up.
FML.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Culture
"I have to go to India -- their culture is so much like ours."
My sister Melissa made this really interesting observation earlier today while watching the Indian entertainment channel that plays on regular TV every Saturday. They showcase the newest films and albums being released by Indian directors and artists.
This observation got me thinking back to a conversation I had with Aliza and some of her friends in Cairo about being brown. There, six people several countries discussed (over fava beans and Egyptian bread!) the differences between brown folks in the East and the West. In the end, we discovered that there were more similarities than you would imagine, with a couple of exceptions.
Filling Melissa in on this, I also recalled a conversation I once had with Erin, my Aussie friend, about how the US exports its culture, and the effect that it has on the globe. In US culture, independence is key. You should move out of your parents' house at 18, go on with your life, and never look back. Worry about yourself first, even if it comes at the expense of your family or your home. Anything outside of that is considered weird and ethnic. But I've come to realize that across the globe, US culture is the odd-man out. China, India, Mexico, Spain, even Egypt and Thailand, all of these countries throughout the world see nothing wrong with putting family first, with living at home until you're 30, with respecting your parents and your elders, and with upholding certain gender norms. So if the majority of countries and cultures around the world uphold similar values, why is it that we in the US see each of those countries as having archaic, antiquated mores? Really, isn't the US the one that should feel like the outsider? It's not as black-and-white as that, I realize, and obviously the US isn't the sole country to have these norms, but I'm just ranting here. And trying to make a point about right Erin was, and how powerful the export of US culture is. Basically, it's one country making an entire globe feel like everyone else is a freak for thinking differently, when really it's just blond Hollywood bimbos and writers telling the world how they should think, what they should do, and how they should look.
Many times, I've felt as though I am somehow strange for being a cultural outsider. I never went to sleepovers, my parents didn't understand Prom or Homecoming, and I have never eaten meatloaf. Growing up, there were many instances when I was angry for feeling left out, and for feeling like a misfit. But as I've gotten older, I've come to embrace living in the hyphen and I've really come to appreciate it. I came to the realization that I like the way I grew up. I like having two homelands, I love being close to my family, and I love admiring, celebrating, and sharing my Mexican culture. I'm glad that I am unique, that I'm not another Abercrombie-wearing lemming and that I have no idea what it would be like to have a date pick me up at home without fearing the wrath of my father.
Best of all, I love that I have the opportunity to examine these things with that outsider's viewpoint, and that I can travel the world and relate to other people and other cultures because I have one of my own.
My sister Melissa made this really interesting observation earlier today while watching the Indian entertainment channel that plays on regular TV every Saturday. They showcase the newest films and albums being released by Indian directors and artists.
This observation got me thinking back to a conversation I had with Aliza and some of her friends in Cairo about being brown. There, six people several countries discussed (over fava beans and Egyptian bread!) the differences between brown folks in the East and the West. In the end, we discovered that there were more similarities than you would imagine, with a couple of exceptions.
Filling Melissa in on this, I also recalled a conversation I once had with Erin, my Aussie friend, about how the US exports its culture, and the effect that it has on the globe. In US culture, independence is key. You should move out of your parents' house at 18, go on with your life, and never look back. Worry about yourself first, even if it comes at the expense of your family or your home. Anything outside of that is considered weird and ethnic. But I've come to realize that across the globe, US culture is the odd-man out. China, India, Mexico, Spain, even Egypt and Thailand, all of these countries throughout the world see nothing wrong with putting family first, with living at home until you're 30, with respecting your parents and your elders, and with upholding certain gender norms. So if the majority of countries and cultures around the world uphold similar values, why is it that we in the US see each of those countries as having archaic, antiquated mores? Really, isn't the US the one that should feel like the outsider? It's not as black-and-white as that, I realize, and obviously the US isn't the sole country to have these norms, but I'm just ranting here. And trying to make a point about right Erin was, and how powerful the export of US culture is. Basically, it's one country making an entire globe feel like everyone else is a freak for thinking differently, when really it's just blond Hollywood bimbos and writers telling the world how they should think, what they should do, and how they should look.
Many times, I've felt as though I am somehow strange for being a cultural outsider. I never went to sleepovers, my parents didn't understand Prom or Homecoming, and I have never eaten meatloaf. Growing up, there were many instances when I was angry for feeling left out, and for feeling like a misfit. But as I've gotten older, I've come to embrace living in the hyphen and I've really come to appreciate it. I came to the realization that I like the way I grew up. I like having two homelands, I love being close to my family, and I love admiring, celebrating, and sharing my Mexican culture. I'm glad that I am unique, that I'm not another Abercrombie-wearing lemming and that I have no idea what it would be like to have a date pick me up at home without fearing the wrath of my father.
Best of all, I love that I have the opportunity to examine these things with that outsider's viewpoint, and that I can travel the world and relate to other people and other cultures because I have one of my own.
Friday, August 14, 2009
50/50 chance
I see potential here, but I could also foresee it going terrible. Kerouac's poetry is awesome, and I like both Ben and Jay. But putting music behind the poetry will certainly give it a different feel.
On a random note, here is the joke on the popsicle stick I just finished:
Q: "Why did the pitcher not like caves?"
A: "Because he was afraid of bats."
On a random note, here is the joke on the popsicle stick I just finished:
Q: "Why did the pitcher not like caves?"
A: "Because he was afraid of bats."
Ya know work is bad when...
I've had the most exhausting week that I can recall in a very, very long time. I've also had the chance to see some of Colorado's amazing natural beauty that I had never appreciated before moving away and coming back.
I've driven in and around the Rockies twice this week, yesterday going to Leadville (a 200-mile round trip) and again to Bailey today. The majestic colors and scenery of this state is really amazing -- I remember several road trips through Illinois and some of Missouri that were less than stellar. And driving from Denver to Chicago is pretty dull too. But since coming back from fantastic natural sites like Santorini, Ireland and Amsterdam, I've had a new appreciation for natural beauty, and I really love that I can find it 30 minutes away.
What I don't love is the lack of sleep I've had this week. I've worked two 12-hour days consecutively, running on about four hours of sleep each day. I've been getting up around 4:30 am every day this week, and let me say that being awake hours before the sunrise is depressing. Never in my life will I bitch about 7 am being too early anymore -- you don't know early until you spent two weeks leaving your house at 5:30 am.
In a really strange chance of fate, this week I've also visited both of the schools in Colorado that have been unfortunate enough to have school shootings occur at them. My week started with Columbine HS and ended with Platte Canyon HS.
Wish I was able to post some of the photos I took of my trip to Leadville and Bailey, but the photos are on my phone and I can't seem to send them to myself. Let me just say -- it's beyond amazing.
I've driven in and around the Rockies twice this week, yesterday going to Leadville (a 200-mile round trip) and again to Bailey today. The majestic colors and scenery of this state is really amazing -- I remember several road trips through Illinois and some of Missouri that were less than stellar. And driving from Denver to Chicago is pretty dull too. But since coming back from fantastic natural sites like Santorini, Ireland and Amsterdam, I've had a new appreciation for natural beauty, and I really love that I can find it 30 minutes away.
What I don't love is the lack of sleep I've had this week. I've worked two 12-hour days consecutively, running on about four hours of sleep each day. I've been getting up around 4:30 am every day this week, and let me say that being awake hours before the sunrise is depressing. Never in my life will I bitch about 7 am being too early anymore -- you don't know early until you spent two weeks leaving your house at 5:30 am.
In a really strange chance of fate, this week I've also visited both of the schools in Colorado that have been unfortunate enough to have school shootings occur at them. My week started with Columbine HS and ended with Platte Canyon HS.
Wish I was able to post some of the photos I took of my trip to Leadville and Bailey, but the photos are on my phone and I can't seem to send them to myself. Let me just say -- it's beyond amazing.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Job hunting = tears for sure
So I have spent the better part of the past three hours online, looking at potential jobs (while I'm working at the moment, my current job has nothing to do with my expensive degree and is quite dull. Plus, it means I wake up at the ass-crack of dawn four days out of the week, which I am SOOO not about).
Undergoing this long, exhaustive search has made me realize a few things, which in turn have made me feel rather depressed:
1. I have no real work experience, and as such, nothing to offer. My internships at newspapers are great experience for a newspaper job, but since my options are extremely limited there, that experience ends up being good for nearly nothing.
2. My degree was a big waste. What did I spent four years and over $100,000 on when I can't find a job related to what I want to do? Or find a job where at least I put that degree and all that damn money to use?
3. I am totally fucked. I watched "Julie & Julia" last night, and there was a point in the film where Julie, the modern character, realizes she's turning 30 and never became the writer she aspired to be. In fact, she hadn't really done anything, and was working as (basically) a telemarketer for the government. I realized that I don't want to turn into that person at all -- I don't want to wake up in seven years and realize that I'm still working the same job that has nothing to do with what I desire to do. It's quickly becoming my biggest fear and each day I feel as though I'm getting closer and closer to that nightmare.
I know I'm being melodramatic and that things will work out, and that in spite of everything, I should be thankful that I at least have a job, regardless of what it is. But it's really easier said than done to sit back and tell myself that everything will be fine when I just feel like hyperventilating and freaking out -- night after night.
Undergoing this long, exhaustive search has made me realize a few things, which in turn have made me feel rather depressed:
1. I have no real work experience, and as such, nothing to offer. My internships at newspapers are great experience for a newspaper job, but since my options are extremely limited there, that experience ends up being good for nearly nothing.
2. My degree was a big waste. What did I spent four years and over $100,000 on when I can't find a job related to what I want to do? Or find a job where at least I put that degree and all that damn money to use?
3. I am totally fucked. I watched "Julie & Julia" last night, and there was a point in the film where Julie, the modern character, realizes she's turning 30 and never became the writer she aspired to be. In fact, she hadn't really done anything, and was working as (basically) a telemarketer for the government. I realized that I don't want to turn into that person at all -- I don't want to wake up in seven years and realize that I'm still working the same job that has nothing to do with what I desire to do. It's quickly becoming my biggest fear and each day I feel as though I'm getting closer and closer to that nightmare.
I know I'm being melodramatic and that things will work out, and that in spite of everything, I should be thankful that I at least have a job, regardless of what it is. But it's really easier said than done to sit back and tell myself that everything will be fine when I just feel like hyperventilating and freaking out -- night after night.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Finally, its my time now...
After quite a lot of going back and forth between letting myself get permanently settled in Denver and just jetting off again somewhere else, I've come to a decision that I'm making myself stick to: I'm hanging around Denver for a while.
As much as I love journalism, I love my family and friends more, and I've been neglecting them for the last five years. They've taken a backseat to my need for adventure, travel and self-discovery. Well, five years later I'm much smarter and more mature, and it's time that I get to know them again. I can stop being selfish and allow myself to dedicate more of me to them. Which is what I plan to do.
I've found a job taking school portraits, and I'll start on Monday. I'll keep looking for something I'd like to do for an extended period of time, and re-discover my home, my friends, and my town. If anyone wants to visit me and go hiking, bike riding, and even skiing, you know where I'll be.
As much as I love journalism, I love my family and friends more, and I've been neglecting them for the last five years. They've taken a backseat to my need for adventure, travel and self-discovery. Well, five years later I'm much smarter and more mature, and it's time that I get to know them again. I can stop being selfish and allow myself to dedicate more of me to them. Which is what I plan to do.
I've found a job taking school portraits, and I'll start on Monday. I'll keep looking for something I'd like to do for an extended period of time, and re-discover my home, my friends, and my town. If anyone wants to visit me and go hiking, bike riding, and even skiing, you know where I'll be.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, July 27, 2009
When home isn't home anymore
As I was driving down Colfax Ave. on a recent weekday afternoon, I was struck by the drastic changes that have undergone the formerly run-down, prostitute-ridden Avenue. New ethnic restaurants were up and running, the street was cleaned of litter, drug addicts, prostitutes and many homeless folks. Several prominent music stores and venues were also in full operation.
Driving down Old Pearl street, I noticed tons of repaved streets, new signs and even a new stretch of highway. It seems like everywhere I look nowadays, I see something new or different than what was living in my mind.
And suddenly, it hit me: I haven't lived in Denver for five years, so really, how can I expect for it to be exactly the same? The suburbs to the north are more developed, there are tons of new immigrants from all over Asia, and the "cool" hangouts from my high school days are as hip and popular as MySpace. It shouldn't shock me that everything is different, but I can't seem to shake off this feeling that home isn't really home anymore. The things that I used to miss about Denver are completely different now, and it's almost like I've moved to a new city that I'm discovering for the first time.
Driving down Old Pearl street, I noticed tons of repaved streets, new signs and even a new stretch of highway. It seems like everywhere I look nowadays, I see something new or different than what was living in my mind.
And suddenly, it hit me: I haven't lived in Denver for five years, so really, how can I expect for it to be exactly the same? The suburbs to the north are more developed, there are tons of new immigrants from all over Asia, and the "cool" hangouts from my high school days are as hip and popular as MySpace. It shouldn't shock me that everything is different, but I can't seem to shake off this feeling that home isn't really home anymore. The things that I used to miss about Denver are completely different now, and it's almost like I've moved to a new city that I'm discovering for the first time.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Oh baby, baby it's a wild world
Welcome to Marcy's Wild World, my new blog meant to keep those interested in my newest adventure, gaining employment in the US, in on the loop. Since I've left Madrid, I decided to keep my Madrilena blog as is, without continuing it. A new chapter in my life means a new blog, and that way I can go back in a few months' time when nostalgia hits and re-read passages. I've always loved doing that with my journals.
So what have I been up to since leaving Madrid? I've moved back to Denver and am living in my parents' house while I search for a job. I'm actually quite torn in my job search, as I would really like to continue on my with journalism career. But that industry looks darker and gloomier each passing day. So I'm applying to pretty much any job that can pay the bills for the moment. Nothing's bitten yet, but please keep your fingers crossed for me.
Additionally, I set up a blog with wordpress.com to showcase some of my journalistic work, and I must say wordpress blows the socks out of blogger! If you're really looking to do some amazing things (and set up your own mock website), wordpress is the way to go. But blogger is so user-friendly and much, much quicker to set up so I've come running back to Google. They're good to me anyway.
In the meantime, enjoy a video which I enjoy! The only T.V. I'm attached to is this show, So You Think You Can Dance. It's true, what friend Scott says, "Wednesdays are the new Fridays."
So what have I been up to since leaving Madrid? I've moved back to Denver and am living in my parents' house while I search for a job. I'm actually quite torn in my job search, as I would really like to continue on my with journalism career. But that industry looks darker and gloomier each passing day. So I'm applying to pretty much any job that can pay the bills for the moment. Nothing's bitten yet, but please keep your fingers crossed for me.
Additionally, I set up a blog with wordpress.com to showcase some of my journalistic work, and I must say wordpress blows the socks out of blogger! If you're really looking to do some amazing things (and set up your own mock website), wordpress is the way to go. But blogger is so user-friendly and much, much quicker to set up so I've come running back to Google. They're good to me anyway.
In the meantime, enjoy a video which I enjoy! The only T.V. I'm attached to is this show, So You Think You Can Dance. It's true, what friend Scott says, "Wednesdays are the new Fridays."
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