The beauty of being able to talk to random strangers for a living is that you get a heck of a lot of unsolicited advice from sources you wouldn't otherwise peg as purveyors of truth. And because you're constantly asking questions, you start to adopt a "talk to me" expression on your face that invites even the most seemingly unfriendly faces to spill their secrets and tell you the story of their lives.
I wonder if this is a phenomenon that happens often to writers or journalists in the City. It's been happening on a pretty regular basis throughout the past few months, and I think it's kind of a fantastic thing, but sometimes it's more than that. Just last night, as I was sitting on the subway on my way home to Astoria, a man in a three-piece suit sat down next to me.
Two guys hopped onto the train just as the doors were about to close, looking pretty flustered. One of them asked me for directions to Penn station, but with my headphones in I didn't hear him the first, second or third time he asked. And then when I did hear him, I didn't understand what he was saying in his flustered state.
So the three-piece man (hereafter known as the TPM) got him to calm down and gave very detailed directions not once, not twice, but three times to make sure that he understood where to go. After the two men got off at the next stop to switch stations, thanking them, the TPM turned to me and said:
"Those can be dangerous, you know."
"I'm sorry, what can be?"
"The headphones. There's been a series of robberies from passengers either sleeping or zoning out with headphones this past month. Especially on the F train. So make sure you watch your things."
"Right, thanks," I said, smiling at the nicety of a man giving helpful, unsolicited advice on the subway.
"I think those guys were trying to take your things, actually. They were just checking to make sure you couldn't hear them."
Thank you, TPM. Thank you. That could have been bad. HA.
29 August 2009
28 August 2009
27 August 2009
Forget regret
The worst kind of frustration is the knowledge that you didn't do something that you should have done. Nay, the worst kind of frustration is the kind that stems from the fear that you might have missed out on something great because you chose to go a different route. You know you should do differently, but you don't.
You're to meet an old friend for dinner, but you're tired and even though you know it's a horrible thing to do, you bail on the reunion.
You have every intention to respond to emails as soon as you receive them but instead let them back up for months at a time.
You cram pet projects onto the back burner because you don't have the time for them, though you optimistically believe that the results will somehow magically appear.
Very little of long-term, lingering regret comes from things that you did do - it's what you didn't do that sticks with you long after the deed has been done. And down the line, a buildup of these regrets make you feel like a pretty crappy human being.
This past weekend, I spent a good chunk of time reorganizing and prioritizing all the bits and pieces of my life thus far in the City. I answered emails dating back through June (guilty), sent apologetic messages to important people I've neglected (guilty), and began to revamp my plans for pet projects that have been buried under an influx of everyday busy "stuff" (guilty guilty guilty). I hadn't realized how horrible of a to-do pack rat I had become, shoving everything into a "to-do in the future" pile that was slowly overwhelming my life.
It was like a toxic spill of past "didn't dos" had begun to permeate my day-to-day living.
In being able to clear out my clutter from these past few months, however, I finally began to feel like I was able to start anew with the opportunities I have set before me. Forget living life with no regrets. I want to live life with no excuses. Trying to live with no regrets is only half of the equation. Having no excuses means being able to gauge a situation and acting on gut instinct or careful calculation or both - for the sake of no regrets in the future.
It's retrospective and projective all at once.
Part of this newly cleansed agenda and style of living means I need to clear my conscience on both ends and just focus on the present. Without focus (which is what I think I lost along the way), this transitionary period can mean a lot of pulling too much in one direction or the other, and ultimately, a lose-lose situation.
You get caught up in the past, and it's hard to move into the next phase of life. You worry too much about the future and you miss out on the present.
I get nostalgic about a lot of things, but the best memories are the ones that I've left alone, not the ones I dabble in and wish I could change. In looking toward my future, then, maybe it's best to apply the same approach: stop making excuses now for things I can't predict will or won't happen down the line, and just do what I feel is the "right" decision at the moment. The understanding being, of course, that everything happens for a reason and will pan out okay in the end.
Being more direct now means saving grief down the line, and more than that, it means being able to live without excuses to justify my regrets, or any regret about my excuses.
Live life daily. Rinse. Repeat.
You're to meet an old friend for dinner, but you're tired and even though you know it's a horrible thing to do, you bail on the reunion.
You have every intention to respond to emails as soon as you receive them but instead let them back up for months at a time.
You cram pet projects onto the back burner because you don't have the time for them, though you optimistically believe that the results will somehow magically appear.
Very little of long-term, lingering regret comes from things that you did do - it's what you didn't do that sticks with you long after the deed has been done. And down the line, a buildup of these regrets make you feel like a pretty crappy human being.
This past weekend, I spent a good chunk of time reorganizing and prioritizing all the bits and pieces of my life thus far in the City. I answered emails dating back through June (guilty), sent apologetic messages to important people I've neglected (guilty), and began to revamp my plans for pet projects that have been buried under an influx of everyday busy "stuff" (guilty guilty guilty). I hadn't realized how horrible of a to-do pack rat I had become, shoving everything into a "to-do in the future" pile that was slowly overwhelming my life.
It was like a toxic spill of past "didn't dos" had begun to permeate my day-to-day living.
In being able to clear out my clutter from these past few months, however, I finally began to feel like I was able to start anew with the opportunities I have set before me. Forget living life with no regrets. I want to live life with no excuses. Trying to live with no regrets is only half of the equation. Having no excuses means being able to gauge a situation and acting on gut instinct or careful calculation or both - for the sake of no regrets in the future.
It's retrospective and projective all at once.
Part of this newly cleansed agenda and style of living means I need to clear my conscience on both ends and just focus on the present. Without focus (which is what I think I lost along the way), this transitionary period can mean a lot of pulling too much in one direction or the other, and ultimately, a lose-lose situation.
You get caught up in the past, and it's hard to move into the next phase of life. You worry too much about the future and you miss out on the present.
I get nostalgic about a lot of things, but the best memories are the ones that I've left alone, not the ones I dabble in and wish I could change. In looking toward my future, then, maybe it's best to apply the same approach: stop making excuses now for things I can't predict will or won't happen down the line, and just do what I feel is the "right" decision at the moment. The understanding being, of course, that everything happens for a reason and will pan out okay in the end.
Being more direct now means saving grief down the line, and more than that, it means being able to live without excuses to justify my regrets, or any regret about my excuses.
Live life daily. Rinse. Repeat.
16 August 2009
Getting on the bandwagon
So the mother learned how to text today. And this is what I get:
this is my first texting. i got 100 free texts in two months. most of my friends using calls instead of texting. that why jean pang asked me whom am i going to text. nice questiuon. ha! Ha! D'Hour is at our house now. He likes Seattle very much. this is a long text. I am waiting him to leav so we can out to dinner.
My favorite part is when she decides to note that this is a long text by typing "this is a long text," thereby elongating the text.
Second favorite part: she's texting as she's waiting for my brother's friend to leave so the fam can go out to dinner. Isn't that what angsty teens do when they're waiting for parents' friends to leave?
...ha.
this is my first texting. i got 100 free texts in two months. most of my friends using calls instead of texting. that why jean pang asked me whom am i going to text. nice questiuon. ha! Ha! D'Hour is at our house now. He likes Seattle very much. this is a long text. I am waiting him to leav so we can out to dinner.
My favorite part is when she decides to note that this is a long text by typing "this is a long text," thereby elongating the text.
Second favorite part: she's texting as she's waiting for my brother's friend to leave so the fam can go out to dinner. Isn't that what angsty teens do when they're waiting for parents' friends to leave?
...ha.
15 August 2009
Why journalism?
Given the current economic climate and the state of the publishing industry, I feel like this question is being addressed in an increasingly urgent manner - by not only its consumers but also its creators. Why spend money on print material in the form of newspapers and magazines when you can just as readily (and more inexpensively) access the NYTimes online or surf your favorite specialty blog? What's the point of having a profession dedicated to a written report of the news when people are becoming their own news aggregators via Twitter and Facebook?
What's the big necessity of quality journalism these days anyways? Who cares?
I've been thinking a lot about this for a while (as I'm sure every recent J-school grad has been), and I hope I don't sound too naive or dramatic when I insist that journalists are as necessary to society as, say, politicians. Or doctors and lawyers. Or engineers and celebrities (yes, the latter are necessary too...usually).
These past few weeks, I've been working on several projects that require me to dig deep into the archives of People and unearth some articles of prominent American figures and other huge news events. And there's definitely something to be said about holding a hard copy of a 1979 magazine, poring over the pages in search of the one detail in the presidential interview that could make or break a major news story now.
There's such a sense of history and weightiness to having a solid product that just can't be replicated by shoveling through piles of e-magazines and archived digital files. When things are written for magazines or newspapers, they're out there for good. There's a sense of credibility to the words that writers use when they put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) that can't be undermined by a few strokes of the "delete" key and completely changed (or deleted) online.
And seriously, this is literally news in the making. It's a huge responsibility and a huge thrill to think that the decisions made around the table at each morning meeting - what will go on the cover, what stories and photos to run - these are the decisions that will help to shape a generation and a culture.
I realize that I'm not saving lives. Or creating energy-saving household goods. Or impacting society in a way that is deemed "heroic" - but at the end of the day, I spread knowledge, and that's the best way I know to contribute using what skills I've acquired over the years. And I know that writing, from an outsider's perspective, isn't really a "career path" to take; it's more of a hobby. But I've discovered in my four years at USC, and again now as a reporter for People, that honing the craft and being able to relate otherwise untouchable subjects in a clear, honest way to readers is something that's rewarding in and of itself, paycheck aside.
In questioning the future of journalism, and to a more selfish extent, my own future with journalism, I talked to a lot of seasoned editors and writers to get their take on starting out anew at this point in time. And the thing is that they were optimistic, encouraging about the possibilities I would come across in this ever-changing journalism landscape.
Being a part of the transition means helping to shape where journalism is going, and helping to shape journalism means helping to create the boundaries and safeguards that dictate where society flows down the line too.
Call it power-tripping or realistic revelation, but either way, it's a good way to go.
Another thing that journalism vets always emphasize is this:
There's no reason to do journalism and stick with it if not for the passion.
There's not a whole lot of money to be had, save for a select few who have paid their dues and worked their way up. The hours are insane - news doesn't sleep when normal people do. It's easy to fall victim to the workaholic syndrome because stories and reliance on other people can so inexplicably take precedence over your social life and family life. Really, if you take the genuine passion of conveying a human story, an emotion or a reaction out of the journalism equation, the picture looks pretty dang grim.
So when people ask me, "Why journalism?" I really take it to heart and think about why I'm investing so much in an industry that seems to return so little.
And the truth is that the same way completing a study or watching a class graduate is rewarding for scientists and teachers, respectively, being able to constantly learn and grow as a person "for a career" is more a return than I could have ever asked for.
Despite everything that's shifting and changing in society right now, none of it would matter if it weren't documented. And I don't mean in a quick Tweet or a few Facebook photo albums. I mean in publications that have continued to reinvent themselves and fight against critics who say that the new wave of "journalism" is all user-based and unmanageable. When you look back 20 , 30, 40 years from now and want to remember what happened when Obama won the presidency, you'll look to old Tweets and status updates and blogs to see individual reactions, sure.
But it's up to journalists to capture the mood of an entire nation and society at a specific moment in time.
...and that's why, journalism.
What's the big necessity of quality journalism these days anyways? Who cares?
I've been thinking a lot about this for a while (as I'm sure every recent J-school grad has been), and I hope I don't sound too naive or dramatic when I insist that journalists are as necessary to society as, say, politicians. Or doctors and lawyers. Or engineers and celebrities (yes, the latter are necessary too...usually).
These past few weeks, I've been working on several projects that require me to dig deep into the archives of People and unearth some articles of prominent American figures and other huge news events. And there's definitely something to be said about holding a hard copy of a 1979 magazine, poring over the pages in search of the one detail in the presidential interview that could make or break a major news story now.
There's such a sense of history and weightiness to having a solid product that just can't be replicated by shoveling through piles of e-magazines and archived digital files. When things are written for magazines or newspapers, they're out there for good. There's a sense of credibility to the words that writers use when they put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) that can't be undermined by a few strokes of the "delete" key and completely changed (or deleted) online.
And seriously, this is literally news in the making. It's a huge responsibility and a huge thrill to think that the decisions made around the table at each morning meeting - what will go on the cover, what stories and photos to run - these are the decisions that will help to shape a generation and a culture.
I realize that I'm not saving lives. Or creating energy-saving household goods. Or impacting society in a way that is deemed "heroic" - but at the end of the day, I spread knowledge, and that's the best way I know to contribute using what skills I've acquired over the years. And I know that writing, from an outsider's perspective, isn't really a "career path" to take; it's more of a hobby. But I've discovered in my four years at USC, and again now as a reporter for People, that honing the craft and being able to relate otherwise untouchable subjects in a clear, honest way to readers is something that's rewarding in and of itself, paycheck aside.
In questioning the future of journalism, and to a more selfish extent, my own future with journalism, I talked to a lot of seasoned editors and writers to get their take on starting out anew at this point in time. And the thing is that they were optimistic, encouraging about the possibilities I would come across in this ever-changing journalism landscape.
Being a part of the transition means helping to shape where journalism is going, and helping to shape journalism means helping to create the boundaries and safeguards that dictate where society flows down the line too.
Call it power-tripping or realistic revelation, but either way, it's a good way to go.
Another thing that journalism vets always emphasize is this:
There's no reason to do journalism and stick with it if not for the passion.
There's not a whole lot of money to be had, save for a select few who have paid their dues and worked their way up. The hours are insane - news doesn't sleep when normal people do. It's easy to fall victim to the workaholic syndrome because stories and reliance on other people can so inexplicably take precedence over your social life and family life. Really, if you take the genuine passion of conveying a human story, an emotion or a reaction out of the journalism equation, the picture looks pretty dang grim.
So when people ask me, "Why journalism?" I really take it to heart and think about why I'm investing so much in an industry that seems to return so little.
And the truth is that the same way completing a study or watching a class graduate is rewarding for scientists and teachers, respectively, being able to constantly learn and grow as a person "for a career" is more a return than I could have ever asked for.
Despite everything that's shifting and changing in society right now, none of it would matter if it weren't documented. And I don't mean in a quick Tweet or a few Facebook photo albums. I mean in publications that have continued to reinvent themselves and fight against critics who say that the new wave of "journalism" is all user-based and unmanageable. When you look back 20 , 30, 40 years from now and want to remember what happened when Obama won the presidency, you'll look to old Tweets and status updates and blogs to see individual reactions, sure.
But it's up to journalists to capture the mood of an entire nation and society at a specific moment in time.
...and that's why, journalism.
14 August 2009
09 August 2009
05 August 2009
Life in Technicolor II
You honestly can't listen to this song and be in a bad mood. There's something pretty epic about it, no?
02 August 2009
What next?
Graduation slipped into June slipped into July fit perfectly into August. And now, more than two months after walking across the stage and accepting my (fake) diploma on the lawn just behind Doheny, I'm looking at the next step. Now that summer internships are wrapping up and people are moving out of the City and back into the realm of "normal" life and routine, I'm left with a creeping feeling that this really does mean that I have to (and I hesitate to use the phrase) "grow up."
The more permanent aspects of life here in New York are finally starting to fall into place. I'll be moving into my apartment in Astoria, Queens in just a week's time. And though my internship should be up just one day prior to moving day, come the following Monday, I'll be starting my first stint as a full-time temp. Exciting? I think yes.
I went bed shopping today. It was pretty telling, I think, that I've never had the privilege (chore?) of shopping for a mattress - not for myself, at least. Growing up, a lot of decisions like that were never mine to make. At home, all the pieces of my house, save for the more personal (read: ridiculous) parts, like old craft projects or awesome-but-useless posters and pillows, were selected for me. In college, I never moved outside of university-owned housing because I didn't want to have to deal with furniture or finding people to sublease my place when I went abroad.
Now, all of a sudden, I'm building my room for scratch. And this time around, I don't know how long I'll be there. Everything else always had a time stamp. High school, six years (this was Whitney and we smooshed junior high and high school together). College, four years. London, one semester. Everything was set in manageable chunks. This...this is different.
It's exciting, don't get me wrong, to be able to construct in my head what I want my little piece of New York to look like, and even the most trivial things seem to be important, but it's also a daunting task. It's hard to prepare for something without a more definite end date in sight.
Without classes to return to in the fall or a projected date of return to California and "home," the things I decide to fill this room with will become my own little kind of home. The semi-permanence of it all is exhilarating, because after the more transient nature of summer in NYC, I'll finally get a chance to experience what it's like to live on another coast, with another kind of culture, in the company of other people who have decided to call this City home.
I've said from the start that I fell instantly in love with NYC, that it just felt right in a way that no other place had before. And while this is still true, looking at being in the City for the next few years or so seems like such a huge commitment that the best thing I know to do right now is just enjoy it in the present moment and not worry too much about things coming down the line. Otherwise I might just spazz a bit with the finality of it all.
Fitting, isn't it? The commitment-phobe who's afraid to commit to her own life.
I reached a point a few weeks ago where I let doubt venture into my vision of New York. My mind was pretty clouded, looking out at the people around me and starting to let suspicion encroach upon our relationships. The City can be very dog-eat-dog, after all, and I think listening to enough people tell you that you have to be strong and preemptively keep away from opportunists can make anyone a little bit paranoid. Then I took a breather and realized that spending my energy focusing on the negatives really wasn't getting me anywhere.
If things get tough, I've always been taught, then do something about it.
And if you're not doing anything to actively change your situation, then don't complain.
So I literally sat down and wrote out a list of things I want to accomplish in New York, ranging from the small (find the best rooftop bar) to the big (get published in the NYTimes) to the fantastic (train for next year's NYC marathon). And I realized that, open-ended though this jaunt is in the City, I just don't have enough time in the day to waste on negative emotions.
Being put in a different context and learning to adapt is something I've gotten used to over the years, and this New York experience is none too different. The key, regardless of situation or location, is to stay hungry and to stay humble. Everything else will follow. With so many things up in the air, though, I'll admit that it is comforting to know that I'll at least (as of next week) have a place to call home for the next few ______s.
And in looking toward the next step, that's all I can ask for, really.
The more permanent aspects of life here in New York are finally starting to fall into place. I'll be moving into my apartment in Astoria, Queens in just a week's time. And though my internship should be up just one day prior to moving day, come the following Monday, I'll be starting my first stint as a full-time temp. Exciting? I think yes.
I went bed shopping today. It was pretty telling, I think, that I've never had the privilege (chore?) of shopping for a mattress - not for myself, at least. Growing up, a lot of decisions like that were never mine to make. At home, all the pieces of my house, save for the more personal (read: ridiculous) parts, like old craft projects or awesome-but-useless posters and pillows, were selected for me. In college, I never moved outside of university-owned housing because I didn't want to have to deal with furniture or finding people to sublease my place when I went abroad.
Now, all of a sudden, I'm building my room for scratch. And this time around, I don't know how long I'll be there. Everything else always had a time stamp. High school, six years (this was Whitney and we smooshed junior high and high school together). College, four years. London, one semester. Everything was set in manageable chunks. This...this is different.
It's exciting, don't get me wrong, to be able to construct in my head what I want my little piece of New York to look like, and even the most trivial things seem to be important, but it's also a daunting task. It's hard to prepare for something without a more definite end date in sight.
Without classes to return to in the fall or a projected date of return to California and "home," the things I decide to fill this room with will become my own little kind of home. The semi-permanence of it all is exhilarating, because after the more transient nature of summer in NYC, I'll finally get a chance to experience what it's like to live on another coast, with another kind of culture, in the company of other people who have decided to call this City home.
I've said from the start that I fell instantly in love with NYC, that it just felt right in a way that no other place had before. And while this is still true, looking at being in the City for the next few years or so seems like such a huge commitment that the best thing I know to do right now is just enjoy it in the present moment and not worry too much about things coming down the line. Otherwise I might just spazz a bit with the finality of it all.
Fitting, isn't it? The commitment-phobe who's afraid to commit to her own life.
I reached a point a few weeks ago where I let doubt venture into my vision of New York. My mind was pretty clouded, looking out at the people around me and starting to let suspicion encroach upon our relationships. The City can be very dog-eat-dog, after all, and I think listening to enough people tell you that you have to be strong and preemptively keep away from opportunists can make anyone a little bit paranoid. Then I took a breather and realized that spending my energy focusing on the negatives really wasn't getting me anywhere.
If things get tough, I've always been taught, then do something about it.
And if you're not doing anything to actively change your situation, then don't complain.
So I literally sat down and wrote out a list of things I want to accomplish in New York, ranging from the small (find the best rooftop bar) to the big (get published in the NYTimes) to the fantastic (train for next year's NYC marathon). And I realized that, open-ended though this jaunt is in the City, I just don't have enough time in the day to waste on negative emotions.
Being put in a different context and learning to adapt is something I've gotten used to over the years, and this New York experience is none too different. The key, regardless of situation or location, is to stay hungry and to stay humble. Everything else will follow. With so many things up in the air, though, I'll admit that it is comforting to know that I'll at least (as of next week) have a place to call home for the next few ______s.
And in looking toward the next step, that's all I can ask for, really.
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