Small wonder

I've been seeing journalism through several sets of eyes this past week. Being in the Daily Trojan office day in and day out has not only affected my lifestyle, but also the way I view so much of my work as a student, editor, journalist, writer. It baffles me to think that the words and ideas that start in my office every day at 5 p.m. (budget meeting time!) can actually impact so much of the campus, and further than that, the community at large.

When the L.A. Times is picking up some of our exclusive stories and my editors and I spend hour upon hour making sure that word phrases and quotes convey the message we want without creating cases for libel - that's when I really feel the weight of the paper and of the job. This isn't just a small publication to be read by students curious about changes to the dining halls - this is a full-fledged newspaper with depth and weight and pull in how the university is portrayed and how its students are treated.

I found out last week (on Inauguration Day, to be exact), that I didn't get an offer from Teach For America. And in all honesty, seeing that decision on the site and via email and then on the site again (I quadruple checked just to be sure I hadn't misread) really did sting. I wasn't so much taken aback about not getting the offer - I know the applicant pool was enormously competitive this year - it was more that I felt as though I had just plunged headfirst into a pool of icy cold water.

Reality check.

Something I had put some effort (but not my full effort) into hadn't panned out. And I didn't know how I should feel about that. I think all throughout the process, I had been more taken with the message of the organization than the actual work itself. In other words, I've always wanted to teach. To impart knowledge and, in turn, learn a few things myself. And I've always felt that a necessary part of graduating and entering the "real world" is giving back to the community - via service, donations, or conscientiousness. I just didn't know what my "method of payment" would be.

Therefore, Teach For America seemed like the natural fit.

What the rejection told me, however, was that this was not the case. Everything happens for a reason, and I'm taking this decision as a sign that I should seriously pursue journalism - that just might be the best way for me to make the difference and spread the message that I want to. Seeing how much feedback we get with the DT and how effective our stories can be has done two things for me:

1. terrified me, for fear of retribution after publication
2. inspired me, for knowledge that I can impact positive change doing what I love

I like to lean more toward the latter whenever possible. Naturally.

Last weekend, I spoke with my brother about my possible career in publishing and journalism. Based on his opinion, chasing after passions is a lot more rewarding than finding stability and forfeiting ambitions in the long run. In a time when the economy is so shaky and jobs so hard to come by, he said, carving your own path will probably lead you to more happiness than trudging along the road behind other similar-minded individuals.

Break free.

Yesterday, I taught my first class for community journalism, a course I'm taking this semester that brings USC journalists into the neighboring schools to produce a class "newspaper," complete with news, opinion, features, sports and entertainment desks. I was amazed at how much these sixth graders knew, and just how aware they were of themselves and each other. Each student talked about what he or she was interested writing, and the labels were clearly set: I like video games. I like American Idol. I like the Dodgers.

My little writers rattled off their favorite movies, games and celebrities, and asked honest questions, like "What will Obama do to keep his promises for the next four years?"; "Is the train line running by the school a villain or a hero?"; "What kind of relationship does Obama have with his family?"

These are all the same questions that we as journalists always ask, in less unnecessarily wordy, pretentious prose. It was interesting to see the dynamic of the students and really gauge their genuine curiosity about the things happening around them. That they really wanted to know the answer to those questions, while many college students don't care to ask them, was striking to me.

When did we start caring and stop asking?

And why?

The task falls to journalism nowadays, and so anyone who argues that journalism is a dying profession has obviously stopped desiring to learn, to be informed, to grow as a person.

After this past week, I'm seeing that my definition of journalism has become so limited. It's not about puting stories on paper and meeting deadlines. It's about childlike curiosity and the kind of assertiveness that sets off an entire chain reaction of events.

It's about action and reaction.

Live and learn.

At Last

I love them. A lot. Maybe too much.

Rest & Relaxation

Just got back from an amazing Daily Trojan retreat out in Palm Desert, and I'm feeling pretty dang refreshed. It's been a while since I've been able to literally sit and just vegetate without feeling any guilt whatsoever - and it's a feeling I think I'm going to chase in this coming semester.

Or, I mean, a girl can dream, can't she?

Time's going to fly in these coming months, I can already tell. Granted, I already feel as though I've been back in the groove of classes for some time, and I know 14 more of these weeks will whip by before I really have a chance to react, so I'm filling every moment with something meaningful - perhaps too well.

It's probably not the best thing when your fingers start itching to check email while you're sprawled out on a couch in a luxury home, thumbing through a magazine. Or when you jot notes for story ideas on your notepad while shopping for burger patties and chips. It's probably not healthy, maybe even borderline ridiculous, to mumble about lists and tasks in your sleep.

And yet, there it is: my waking hours and sleeping hours have merged to form a singular consciousness during which I plan and pace over a never-ending list of things to do.  

I think working is relaxing to me. Productivity is the key to my happiness. That, and cold leftovers and touching Christmas cards and gummi bears. I'm simple, really.

I find out tomorrow whether or not I've officially been accepted into Teach for America, so for the time being, I'm just savoring this limbo, this waiting period, and trying to relax. Tomorrow, no matter what the decision is, I'll have to buckle down and really start figuring out what I want to do with my days post-college.

Obama's inauguration speech is tomorrow morning, and I can't wait for the inspirational push I know he'll give our nation. Change never came about in times of comfort and ease, and I think Obama's perception of nonstop work toward progress as a positive thing rather than as a burden is admirable and should be touted as fact throughout the nation.  

I love rest and relaxation, but I'm ready to carry on with the rest of my life. Tomorrow's going to be a big day, and I think today's lull is something we'll be hard-pressed to find after tomorrow morning, so I'm savoring it.

One day DOWN

I'm officially done. With the first night of production for the Daily Trojan, that is. Everything ran as smoothly as I could have hoped, though we did run later than expected because we wanted to make sure that we set a high precedence at the beginning of the year in terms of clean copy, solid design and quality content. Given that this is the first time a lot of my editors have really used InDesign and actually worked together to produce an issue, I think it was a success.

The dynamic of my staff is just incredible as well - I know that I actually worried more about interpersonal relations when selecting my senior editors than competency. Not to say that I didn't take into account how news-savvy and organized they were, but I recognized that how their personalities fit in with everyone else's was going to make a world of difference for the tone of the semester. Working in good company makes life pretty dang good, even with late nights and constant tasks to take care of.

Dedicated, passionate people make me happy.

It's funny how different the start of this semester is compared to the start of the fall, when I was scrambling from one thing to the next, always feeling one step behind and failing miserably at life, etc. Though I know the semester ahead is going to be a crazy hectic one, I can already tell just from the first night that it will also be one of the best - not for the lasts that are requisite parts of senior year - but for all the firsts that I'll inevitably experience these next few months as I step into this very different realm of college.

I love change and renewing and beginning again, and I think holding this position this semester means that I'll always be learning something new - about the DT, about the campus, about the many students and the lives they lead during their four-year tenure at USC. It's so intriguing, and I just want to write write write about everything I learn.

Things always happen for a reason, and everything falls into place in due time. 

I hope it all works out.

My Time With You

How can you not be in a good mood after listening to this?

Not for profit

So I attended a freelancing workshop at the LA Times today, my first step toward pursuing my ambitions as a freelance journalist. I didn't know quite what to expect, whether this would be an informal gathering or a ridiculously formal networking opportunity, and so, armed with resumes and a notepad, I drove 10 minutes downtown to the imposing building and clacked my way across the front lobby to the press room on the first floor.

The other attendees represented a wide range of ages, experiences, and above all else, attitudes. It was easy to tell, based on the way that the other journalists interacted, who was there out of interest in the panelists' advice, and who was there solely for the sake of networking. A woman I befriended before the workshop began had been working as on-air talent in the Hong Kong market for seven years and had just recently moved back to the States in hopes of establishing her name here. Even so, though I knew that she was friendly because she was hoping to establish connections, her banter revealed that it wasn't the only reason why she was so conversational. 

Even with so much experience under her belt - she had worked for several different stations within the States prior to her move to Asia - she genuinely wanted to hear about my own experiences, my internships, the stories that I'd covered in my few measly years as a "journalist." It was refreshing to meet someone who really took to heart the idea that journalism, at its core, is about always learning and asking and  absorbing new ideas, not about competition and getting ahead and chucking other people under the bus if it meant getting the story.

I always feel pretty dang tool-ish at networking events, because though I know that the purpose is to establish connections with other writers, publicists and talent, I can't help feeling like I'm selling out a little bit every time I shake a new hand and talk about my accomplishments. It's not in the Asian American nature to toot your own horn, but in freelancing, it's really about branding yourself, your writing and your ideas, as well as acting as your own PR representative. All while staying grounded.

The panelists, comprised of freelance writers, videographers and editors, proved that it is possible to strike that happy balance, however. Albert Kim, who has written and acted as editor at Sports Illustrated, ESPN, Details, People and Entertainment Weekly, among other publications, was the most down-to-earth, normal guy I had ever met (relatively speaking, of course). He hasn't let success get to his head and is constantly on the lookout for the next step in his career - he's since switched careers to be a television writer.

What made these people so successful was that they kept their eyes on the goal and believed in the work they were doing, rather than doubting themselves and scuffling along just for the profit at the end of the day. They really believed in the story of the four-minute mile, of the British man who defied critics and ran a four-minute mile, and how, once that mental barrier was broken, tons of other people began to follow suit. The panelists talked about pushing past minor setbacks and temporary delays because the only thing that mattered in the end was having that final goal clearly imprinted in their minds' eye.

 

Suffice it to say, after today's panel, I walked away inspired. I really admire people who are able to make a living from freelance work - it speaks leaps and bounds of not only their writing skills, but also their people skills. I'm excited to get started. 

Dream Big

If there were ever a time to dare,

To make a difference,

To embark 

on something worth doing, 

It is now.

Not for any grand cause, necessarily

But for something that tugs

at your heart,

something thing that's your aspiration,

something that's your dream.

You owe it to yourself 

to make your days here count.

Have fun.

Dig deep.

Stretch.

Dream big.

Know, though

that things worth doing 

seldom come easy.

There will be good days.

And there will be bad days.

There will be times when you 

want to turn around,

pack it up

and call it quits.

Those times tell you that you are pushing yourself,

that you are not afraid to learn by

trying.

Persist.

Because with an idea,

determination,

and the right tools,

you can do great things.

Let your instincts,

your intellect,

and your heart guide you.

Trust.

Believe in the incredible power 

of the human mind.

Of doing something

that makes 

a difference.

Of working hard.

Of laughing and hoping.

Of lazy afternoons.

Of all the things that will cross

your path this year.

The start of something new

brings the hope of 

something great.

Anything is possible.

There is only one you.

And you will pass this way

only once.

Do it right.

- author unknown

Compassion, comparison, competition

Two heads might be better than one, but beyond that, life gets a little bit crazy. Being part of a team or staff means not only working toward a common goal, but also figuring out what role each person will play in the journey toward achieving said goal. It's a delicate balance between being assertive and attentive, being a leader and a follower at different points throughout the group relationship.

I think leadership style is a lot like trying to jump into the middle of someone else's conversation. You wait for the right moment to contribute your own two cents to the topic of discussion, and successful integration is a tricky task to master. The ideal situation is that your comment or follow-up to a point made will add to the conversation rather than cause an awkward gap of silence as the previous conversationalists try to figure out how the heck you fit into the picture.

The catch is that joining a conversation means, first of all, knowing the context, and second of all, gauging the banter and tone of the talk from a distance. Jumping rope, timing the entrance just right.

Being visible without being overbearing. Deliberate without being controlling.

Diving headfirst into this leadership role is really proving to be a test of how I think, how I interact, how I can speak in a way that actually enhances the conversation.

I'm working on getting this timing thing down, that's all.

Quotables

"The clock is running. Make the most of today. And remember that time waits for no one. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. But today is a gift. That's why it's called The Present."

New York, New York

I want to escape to a city that never sleeps. As I've learned over this past winter break, my mind is what keeps me up at night, nothing more and nothing less. It's not stress, work, or insomnia. Not really. What keeps me awake is this constant influx of ideas - with the last semester of college fast-approaching, I'm realizing that there are just so many things I want to do before college stops and real life begins, and I can't sleep because I simply can't wait.

These days, even when I try to wind down with my book of the moment before bed, I find myself jotting down notes about what I need to do tomorrow or ideas for future pieces that I harvest from the literature before me. Had a long chat with the mumsy today, something that's become quite a rarity, and she actually said that she'd given it some thought, and it might be good for me to experience life on the East Coast, if I was really that bent on pursuing magazine journalism.

"It's not that I want to get away from here," I said. "It's just that I want so badly to go there."

And that's the best way to venture out to a new place or try something new, isn't it? Not because you want to escape from something or are sick of your current condition, but because you want to move toward something new and curious and beautiful.

New York City is somewhere I want to be because there are just so many stories to be told in that small area of space, and its contradictions are so intriguing to me. How can a place so full of human interaction also be one of the loneliest cities in the nation? And how do so many different social enclaves work together and coexist given their turbulent history?

In a day and age when integration and acceptance are not only PC, but expected, I want to see what it's like to be in the center of this melting pot of cultural, economic and political thought.

I know it's cliche for writers and artists to want to venture over to NYC, but I really do see the appeal, and I'd love to experience the city while I'm still in my 20s. Romanticized? Maybe. But all the same, how can you not love the Big Apple?

Amazing food.

Beautiful parks.

Theater and entertainment.

Coffee shops.

I want to stay awake and dream with eyes wide open. Not like I get nearly enough sleep here anyway, right? Har har.

Chasing Pavements

Passion. Play.

I’m horribly behind with my goals for winter break. Or, really, the one major one that I had initially been hoping to accomplish by this point of break: establish a website with my resume, all of my clips, a blog, photos and other ridiculousness. And design a business card to go with it.

The thing is, I’m really hoping to pursue freelancing in the future, and I know it’s a tough market to break into, especially now. Hence, it would only make sense that I solidify an image and a product (my thoughts and writings, essentially) while I am able to take the time to think it through, so that I know how to pitch my ideas to different magazines.

It’s just that, with winter break came a whole slew of responsibilities, and I have yet to really focus and hone in on the one really important thing that could help me take that next step toward professional freelancing (is there such a thing?).

It’s just so hard to focus!

I know it’s a stereotype that writers are scatterbrained and forgetful, but to be fair, that stereotype is there for a reason. Because while I am definitely passionate about taking my ideas to the next level and carrying them out, I also get distracted easily by the upkeep of day-to-day life. Meeting up for coffee here, grabbing dinner there, sending out miscellaneous emails in between – I’m obsessed with this concept of “quality of life,” and even though time probably doesn’t permit it, I can never say ‘no’ to spending time with friends and loved ones because my passion for writing is really just an extension of my passion for stories.

So I’ve come to a conclusion (read: justification).

Hanging out with people, for me, is not an extracurricular, a burden or a way to pass the time. It is research. For my own insight. Which will lead to writing. Which, if done right, will lead to learning for both myself and for my readers. And possibly money.

Maybe lots of it.

Okay, that’s a stretch.

But really, it’s a win-win situation. My mother’s been getting on my case about why I always rush from one place to the next, or have to sit for hours in front of the computer cleaning out my inbox and returning emails. It’s because, as she says “you’re enjoying life too much” – which, by her standards, means that I am having meals with friends or chatting on the phone.

I don’t really know how to respond to that, except to say “yep, I’m enjoying it.” And now that I have a justification for my doing so, I feel a heck of a lot more productive than I did at the beginning of this post.

But seriously, I’ve got to find a way to focus in these next few days. I’m posting this in hopes that seeing my ambition in print will help me hold myself accountable for whatever actions I do or don’t take in this last week.

Here’s to honing in on the prize. If these first few days of January have been any indication, it's going to be a busy semester, a crazy year, a blur of 2009.

Aging Backwards

It’s interesting just how much Barack Obama and Brad Pitt have in common. Well, relatively speaking. Outside of good looks, charisma and a lovely voice, the two men have kept me thinking for quite some time now about a number of the same issues, and for this, I think it’s safe for me to draw the comparison, however random it might seem.

Prior to the start of the New Year (aka just yesterday), I had just seen The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (which I semi-recommend, if nothing else than for the fact that the casting and makeup were amazing), and was in the process of reading Obama’s The Audacity of Hope. The theme of age and passion were mainstays in both of the works, and it got me to start thinking about 2008 in a very peculiar way.

In most senses, it would be logical for me to say that I think I aged a lot since the beginning of the year – back in January, I was still packing up the bits and pieces of my life here in the States for what would be 4.5 of some of the best months of my life in Europe. I ventured to London, learned about the backstreets and best pubs, jet-setted and country-hopped, and began to acclimate myself with a lifestyle I had only imagined before. This was my real “going away” to college experience, and I loved every minute of it.

It was a taste of independence that stuck with me throughout the rest of the year.

Come June, I began working full-time at a daily paper in Woodland Hills and lived with my brother and his roommate over in Westwood for three months. From the experience, I saw my own future laid out side-by-side with my brother’s, an investment banker, and his roommate’s, an assistant sports coach at UCLA. The summer gave me time to reflect on what exactly I was doing with journalism and with my career goals as a whole. Would I get sucked into the daily grind of work, home, sleep, repeat?

Not that my brother or his roommate were unhappy, but I couldn’t honestly say that they were excited about the work that they were doing either. It was a means to an end, and I think it scared me a bit to see two such capable people so devoid of passion for their work. When I initially began working in June, I too, saw just how easily I could fall into routine and the status quo, and I went through a lot of internal turmoil (melodramatic, I know I know), trying to figure out what exactly I could do to keep each day fresh, lively, inspiring.

It took a whole lot of writing and a whole lot of reorganizing for me to get back into the groove – finding a happy balance between my life and structure prior to London and the renewed sense of idealism I had picked up across the pond.

At the end of August, classes began in a flurry, and I literally keeled over in my attempt to hit the ground running. There were far too many ideas, projects, tasks floating around in my head, and the result, even at the beginning of the year, was a less-than-appealing mess of all-nighters, missed deadlines, dropped classes.
This wasn’t the formulaic collegiate life I was used to, and it was far from the kind of senior year I had hoped to have. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing the bigger picture in favor of rushing here and there to finish up tasks that I had half-started, but even so, I kept running on empty with what I can best describe now as denial.

November meant the annual dragon boat tournament up in San Francisco, and with that came a whole barrage of responsibilities that caused me to come to a temporary standstill. Post-tournament and post-break down, I decided I needed to just take a few days to reassess and process what I had been doing wrong for the entire semester, how I had let so much pressure build up to this breaking point.

It was an eye-opening, supremely honest look at my own shortcomings, and seeing those problems laid out before me made see that I had forgotten two important things:

1. I needed to take care of myself now, while I was still young – the repercussions and rewards for my actions today would manifest themselves later on down the line, and I needed to act accordingly.

2. My passion, my writing, had fallen to the wayside, and without a physical list of goals before me, I had succumbed to temporary solutions when I should have been searching for long-term goals.

Following my revelation, things in life began to fall into place once again. I heard back from Teach for America, I was elected into the editor-in-chief position for the Daily Trojan, I reorganized my role with Bamboo Offshoot, I finished off long-term stories for my journalism classes, I began to thrive on the adrenaline of getting things done because I finally had an end-goal in mind.

It was the last stretch of a long semester, but finishing out fall 2008 meant that I could start anew.

And now, just two days into January, I feel ready to start the cycle over again, sans the stress and the break-down and the horrible sleep schedules. I’ve had to replace a lot of things in my life in the last few weeks, but this also means that I get to pick and choose what I want to take with me in this last semester of college.

Packing up the bits and pieces of my life, full circle.