Lawrence Wright!

I hate posting dinky little blogs that look stupid, but I just had to say it: LAWRENCE WRIGHT is going to be giving a speech UCR!!! Oh wait, most of you don't live a world where Lawrence Wright is practically your idol. Lawrence Wright is a VERY successful journalist who writes for The New Yorker! Therefore, it is imperative for me to RSVP to this thing and go so I can talk with him and network and see how he did it! I mean, this is my DREAM JOB and the guy is coming to the I.E.! Geez, this is probably the worst (from a literary point of view) post I have ever written... don't judge me for being an excited English nerd.

Move On and Up

I've learned a lot from life and sometimes just when I think that I've learned it all, life brings me back to reality. I had an experience like this today. I guess you could say that my success in starting out my career in Journalism had gotten to my head. I just couldn't help but be proud of myself. I was published again--accomplished. Someone read my work and thought I was good... in fact, more than one person did.


I had written another article for my new series running in the local paper and I was starting on my third one. The interview was done and all I needed was to put the quotes into a finished piece. It was brought to my attention that I should cover another very interesting story in a timely manner. I saved what I had done on the third article and began to immediately pursue the new subject.


The next morning I got a voicemail from the subject and was excited to jump on the new article. I got home and checked my email only to find an email from my editor explaining that I was not assigned that article; another reporter was.


At first I was upset: I had done the "grunt work" to track down the subject and I thought I would be reaping the benefit of writing a gripping piece. I guess I just had to learn that things don't always work out. Even though I disagreed with the verdict, there was really nothing I could do. I decided to pick my bottom jaw off the ground and go back to finishing the third article.


If there is one thing I can say about this whole experience of life it's that you don't always get what you want or expect. "... but if you try sometimes you just might find you get what you need!" Thank God for the Stones. At least I'm still gaining experience to reach my dream... and that's just exactly what I need.

A Spark to Light a Dream in the Distance

For once in my life I'm at an absence for the correct words. I have been published for the second time at the age of twenty; nothing can accurately describe how wonderful it feels to me. I guess, in short, I will say this: Nothing makes a writer feel more accomplished than when she pours her soul into her writing and an editor reads it and deems it worthy of publication. I could not feel more honored to have my work in the local paper this week. Hopefully there will be more successes to come.


Until next time, I'll be seeing you--you'll be reading me.

On the Corner of Gumption and Zest

In the short space of a week, I have gone from miserable in a cramped cubicle to out in the world and happy as I've ever been. Instead of discovering yet another source of corruption, I have discovered the delight of sipping the right cup of coffee with the perfect piece of chocolate. Rather than sitting at my desk waiting for my life to begin, I have made it happen. One decision can make all the difference. If I would not have written my resignation letter, I would not have already written my first article for the newspaper and started on the next one. I would not have been hired as a Barista. If that letter was never delivered, I would be waking up at 6 AM tomorrow to make my way through the 7:30 traffic to a place where I didn't belong.


Thankfully, I developed a trait that I have found very handy in the past week: GUMPTION. I was bold enough to quit the highest paying job I have ever had in order to pursue my true passion: writing. I was able to muster enough guts to do it my way and by doing that I caught the attention of two very important people who held the power to give me exactly what I wanted--and did.


The day I quit my job, I went straight to the local newspaper publication to follow up on a call I believed I was getting from opportunity. My heart must have heard correctly because one visit to that paper got me a meeting with the editor and a chance to show the world (or at least the local area) what I'm made of. By that evening I had received my first assignment as the new stringer for the Gazette and I don't think I had ever been so excited. Needless to say, I landed the interview with my subject the next morning and sent my finished article to the editor that night.



I'm now faced with the challenge of doing a series of stories similar to the one I sent in a few nights ago. I have compiled a list of about fifteen ideas, and tonight I did an interview in order to start article two of the series. I know I can handle this, I just can't wait to prove it to the world.


Tomorrow holds quite a few beginnings in this new chapter of my life: I'm being trained as a Barista at my brand new job and I'm finishing article number two (not to mention my homework).


As far as the knowledge I'm gaining, I can't think of much else to say except that it has proven to be limitless.


Yet, the most important lesson of all seems to be to have the gumption to reach for something more--I know I'll never regret it.

Wake Up and Smell the Aftertaste

The following is my resignation from my office job:

Coffee is a delicious, yet interesting drink. It smells rich, wonderful, and welcoming, yet the thing I find most intriguing about coffee is how it is made. You take coffee beans from countries around the world and grind them up into a powdery substance. You then filter hot water through them and the result is coffee. But isn’t it even more intriguing how easy it is to do this wrong? There are coffee beans sold in stores that have been ground up for months. They are no longer fresh and I don’t know about anyone else—but I can tell.

I like my coffee a little sweet and a lot bitter. It has to be “drinkably” hot, a temperature that is hard to achieve and maintain. I guess you can call me a certified “coffee-snob.” Consequently, I know when it is done right and when it is just wrong.

At the office, we make Folgers—a coffee I consider to be at the bottom of the heap. It’s pre-ground and the taste is nothing like the coffee I have learned to appreciate. It is my job to make this crap for everyone in the office each morning. The thing that kills me is as I’m scooping out those grounds I am intoxicated by the smell and even though I know the end result will be horrible, I still think I’m craving it.

I have tried it before (it was a desperate morning pick-me-up situation) and it is almost like a trick. It’s hot and smells wonderful, but when you touch it to your lips you think something is different—wrong. At first it tastes alright, but it’s the aftertaste that comes up to viciously bite your tongue.

I haven’t tried it again since, probably because I have learned from that experience. Yet each morning I still find myself holding those grounds up to my nose wishing that their result was what I was looking for.

That’s how I feel about this job; it is Folgers coffee. Walking in, my first impression was that it was beautiful and prestigious. There are many offices (not just one) and there are even conference rooms in which to hold the meetings. (Oh, and are there meetings!) There are small meetings and large ones—two people or ten. This whole office is based on the idea of holding a meeting.

I guess the point I’m trying to make is that when you smell LFOS grounds, they seem like they would make a delicious cup of coffee, but they just don’t end up living up to what you expected. It’s the aftertaste that comes right up to bite you—the arguing, the negativity, the meetings about meetings about what to do at the next meeting.

I came into this job taking a big deep breath of coffee smell—I thought it would be what I needed. I’m leaving today to wash that aftertaste out of my mouth and go in pursuit of a coffee that is more suited to my needs.

I know this resignation letter seems weird—but it was the only way I could do this and do it right. This is my way of doing things and I hope you all understand. Good luck with your future and I hope this letter inspires you to make your life what you need it to be—coffee that not only smells wonderful, but tastes exactly the way you need it to.

On Broadway...

http://www.citi-habitats.com/viewlisting.php?adID=924335&scroll=1


This apartment is so cute and cheap; can I just go already?!

NYC Go

nycgo.com


Interesting and sometimes free things to do in NY? I see hours of browsing in my future...

A One-Way Ticket to Self-Realization

The other day I was browsing online to check the prices on some airline tickets. I am preparing for my first trip back to New York in nearly six years. I couldn't be more excited about how close I'm getting to that visit. I miss that place everyday and think about how my life would be if I were already there.


As I perused the various discount ticket sites, something occurred to me: In my twenty years alive I have always looked up round-trip airline tickets, yet nearly a year from now I will be searching for my very first one-way ticket. For some reason, just the thought of it got me excited... and a little nervous. I mean, people take vacations for weeks, but they always come back home. It occurred to me that I would be taking the biggest trip of my life--with no intention of returning home.


As exciting as this concept is, I realized that no matter how much I want to go, I'll never be prepared to leave. I don't think I will ever feel completely secure in the idea that I'm branching out alone in the world to make my way in a city that I don't really know the first thing about. I mean, I know the basics: it's expensive, it's competitive, it's ever-changing...but do I really know what the heck I'm about to get myself into?


As I sat back and watched my brain try desperately not to explode, I thought of who I was... or at least who everyone has seen as me. I'm a little Californian blonde who has only lived on my own for about three months before I decided to move back home. I have worked many jobs, but have yet to find one that qualifies as my true passion. I thought to myself about the world's perception of me and who I truly am and it occurred to me that there was a difference.


I may still be young, but now I'm a little girl with big ambitions. I realized that now matter how intimidating things get, I won't let it stop me. This dream has given me such purpose and drive in life; I could never abandon it.


Most people I tell about my goal seem to expect that I don't have a clue what I'm getting into and while some of that statement could be considered true, I still feel grossly underestimated. You see, I'm not going because I think living there is going to turn out like some rom-com movie. I'm going there to work hard and achieve my dream--I am passionate about writing, so what better place would I go to for a career in journalism? Nevertheless it seems that no matter how hard I try to explain what I expect of this city, I still end up backed into a corner with a finger wagging in my face as if to say, "Don't overestimate yourself, little girl."


Why is it that being young automatically qualifies me for the Foolish Olympics? I know that being twenty and "in college" puts me in a certain category, but I also know that I have never in any way fit there. I may have had my stint as a college sorority girl, but I grew up and became who I am now--responsible, determined, and thick-headed. Why should I let the rest of the world tell me who I am when I know damn well they are wrong?


So as I contemplate my looming one-way ticket to a life I can't wait to live, I am stubborn. I will be who I know I am: a writer who is out to live her passion... and the only way to get there is to find just the right time to take that one-ticket to the bank--or you know, the airport.

Monday Morning Blues

When you work where I do during the week, Monday morning can only be described as “extra-sucky.” Not only am I very far from being a morning person in general, but I also don’t particularly enjoy my full time office job. I come to work each day waiting for it to end. I hate how negative this makes me sound, but it really is true. This is what happens when you throw a bubbly little dreamer into an office framed with black clouds.


Yes, I need to be grateful that I have a job right now—but no, I won’t stay here long. I am a firm believer in the principles of a high quality of life. I believe that it is healthy and expected of a person to work—and work hard. I just don’t believe a person should be expected to spend the majority of their life in an office where they are miserable. No one should be miserable because everyone has a choice not to be. It just depends on how hard a person is willing to work.


This principle can easily be applied to my dream of moving to New York City. I have the choice to stay in Southern California and wonder how my life would have turned out or go take the plunge and see how it is. Fortunately, I am just about as driven and passionate as they come, so I have chosen to work hard for the life I want.


Updates on the job situation will come soon…