You know how there are these elusive things called Perfect Days? I think I just had one.
Had lunch with Albert Kim today, a former editor over at Entertainment Weekly, People, Details, ESPN, Sports Illustrated and GQ, knowing full well that, being a veteran of the magazine industry, he would be a straight-shooter about the market and the current state of the publishing world. And true to form, we jumped right into talking about the large number of magazines that have been folding over the past few years, or are on the brink of that same horrendous fate.
But if you want to pursue journalism and really have the drive to push past doubters, then you'll find a way to make it work, he said. The first step is moving to New York.
He didn't have to tell me twice. As much as it seems like a pipe dream to move to Manhattan (or heck, I'll take Jersey and then commute into the city), I'm really doing it. I'm saving up from this semester (thank you, employment at the DT), and am fanatically compiling lists of contacts for NYC for when I journey over there first during spring break and then over the summer and beyond.
I'm really doing it.
I had been wavering on the line between practicality and whimsicality (fitting name for a blog, don't you think? har har), since such a move would mean throwing all of my faith into the fact that this was really a step in the right direction and not just an unrealistic distraction. But after talking to Albert, it seems as though it would be crazy for me not to take that risk.
For the majority of my life, I've always felt as though I were a victim of happenstance. Falling into things by what I judged to be pure luck. Right place, right time. Admission into Whitney (for what it was worth back then) - luck. Leadership roles in high school? Luck. Getting into Annenberg? Luck. Finding like-minded, passionate people? Coincidence. Daily Trojan? Bamboo Offshoot? Mentoring? Being mentored? Internships? Luck, luck, luck, luck and luck.
Connections? Pure luck.
Now it's Chance that beckons louder than its sister Luck. I'm taking a chance by going to NYC, sure, but if not now then when? If everything in my life truly has been happenstance, and everything really does happen for a reason (which I truly believe), then all signs point me east. And it would be rude and completely wrong of me not to follow said signs.
Today was a perfect day not just because Albert sent a lot of great contacts my way, or because he actually conceded that my pet project, my magazine's mission statement, was a viable one. Today was a perfect day just because Albert affirmed for me that great success stems from great risks, and that the only thing standing in the way of me and New York was...me.
So I stepped aside and let myself pass through into the sun.
It stopped raining today.
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moving. Show all posts
07 February 2009
27 August 2008
Greedy Much?
I think I'm being greedy. It's only the third day of class and already I can feel that I just might burn out this semester with all the activities and commitments and jobs I'm trying to juggle. The horrible part of the whole situation isn't the being busy, though. In actuality, the real harsh realization is that I might be overly busy for all the wrong reasons.
My friend brought up a really good point the other day. When I was trying to justify to him my taking on so many different responsibilities, he looked me straight in the eye and asked me if it might just be that I'm being selfish.
I was taken aback and it must have shown on my face because he quickly explained that he didn't mean it in a good or bad way, just as a statement of fact. Greediness is tied to "want" and "need," and in my case, I "want" to do too much and I "need" to stay busy, two facts that will probably lead to much unavoidable stress later on down the line. I think maybe I'm too caught up in the idea that I need to cram all of these things into my senior year, when really, I need to take a step back (maybe two) and drop a few commitments.
The only thing is, all of the things I decided to get involved in this year are so important to me...so is that being selfish? I'm grabbing for too much and maybe that's just wrong because I'll turn up with nothing. If these first three days have been any indication, I'm not going to have much time for myself - and is that in itself being selfish?
At this year's APASS student welcome, a lot of the incoming freshmen were asking for advice about time management and I almost wanted to laugh. I told them it was okay to say "no" to organizations and "no" to commitments and to make sure that their own sanity came first. To take care of themselves before helping others, just so that they would be able to contribute themselves 100% to the project at hand. I told them to prioritize and eliminate unnecessary stressors.
I need to take my own advice. Badly.
It's such a strange line to walk upon, balancing my needs with what I perceive to be other people's needs. When you know your loved ones and friends are depending on you, it's hard to turn your back just because you need to take care of YOU.
My friend brought up a really good point the other day. When I was trying to justify to him my taking on so many different responsibilities, he looked me straight in the eye and asked me if it might just be that I'm being selfish.
I was taken aback and it must have shown on my face because he quickly explained that he didn't mean it in a good or bad way, just as a statement of fact. Greediness is tied to "want" and "need," and in my case, I "want" to do too much and I "need" to stay busy, two facts that will probably lead to much unavoidable stress later on down the line. I think maybe I'm too caught up in the idea that I need to cram all of these things into my senior year, when really, I need to take a step back (maybe two) and drop a few commitments.
The only thing is, all of the things I decided to get involved in this year are so important to me...so is that being selfish? I'm grabbing for too much and maybe that's just wrong because I'll turn up with nothing. If these first three days have been any indication, I'm not going to have much time for myself - and is that in itself being selfish?
At this year's APASS student welcome, a lot of the incoming freshmen were asking for advice about time management and I almost wanted to laugh. I told them it was okay to say "no" to organizations and "no" to commitments and to make sure that their own sanity came first. To take care of themselves before helping others, just so that they would be able to contribute themselves 100% to the project at hand. I told them to prioritize and eliminate unnecessary stressors.
I need to take my own advice. Badly.
It's such a strange line to walk upon, balancing my needs with what I perceive to be other people's needs. When you know your loved ones and friends are depending on you, it's hard to turn your back just because you need to take care of YOU.
19 August 2008
Ridiculous, self-inflicted busyness
Have you ever been so busy that you literally didn't even know where to begin to tackle your enormous pile of THINGS TO DO?
I'm at that point right now, and am obviously not helping myself by posting instead of working. But I'll consider this stress relief of sorts, har har.
Am in the midst of packing up to move-in for my senior year, and I just can't seem to finish. Am thinking about everything I'll need to do within the next 24 hours - start and finish the layout for an entire issue of a student publication, finish a story for my internship, show my friend around LA, interview several people, and settle into a new apartment.
Haven't had time to breathe in a while, but this busyness IS self induced, so don't feel as though I can really complain. Oy soy.
...this is so ridiculous that all I can do is sit here and eat mochi ice cream by the box. This can't be healthy.
I'm at that point right now, and am obviously not helping myself by posting instead of working. But I'll consider this stress relief of sorts, har har.
Am in the midst of packing up to move-in for my senior year, and I just can't seem to finish. Am thinking about everything I'll need to do within the next 24 hours - start and finish the layout for an entire issue of a student publication, finish a story for my internship, show my friend around LA, interview several people, and settle into a new apartment.
Haven't had time to breathe in a while, but this busyness IS self induced, so don't feel as though I can really complain. Oy soy.
...this is so ridiculous that all I can do is sit here and eat mochi ice cream by the box. This can't be healthy.
28 June 2008
Isolation and Solitude
It’s a shame that more people don’t walk in L.A. It’s too bad that the convenience of speeding from one location to the next outweighs the therapeutic effects of a casual stroll down Wilshire.
It’s dusk and as I shuffle along the sidewalk, only glancing up at every third car horn, I notice that I’ve already passed five cars in the span of 20 steps. I’m counting. They haven’t moved. I have. I shift my eyes to the right and study the face of a businessman mouthing angry words into his Bluetooth headset. Fancy car, fancy man. Everything about him is clean in a way that is uncomfortable and, moreover, unhealthy.
It looks like he’s washed and pressed his shirt a thousand times before donning it, a pristine disguise meant to conceal his very human flaws.
I wonder how many times he scrubbed his hands at the sink before leaving the office, purging himself of the germs he no doubt contracted from one handshake after the next.. Human interaction, washed down the drain.
Do his kids run out to greet him when he gets home, I wonder?
A large sedan tries to merge in front of his car. Red light. No one is moving, and yet the man in the pressed shirt inches forward to prove a point. Do not pass. Every man for himself and damn the rest.
Isolation. I know nothing about this man, can only judge him based on this quick snapshot of his life. It’s not his best moment. I momentarily catch his eye, and I quickly pretend as though I’m looking through his window at a point just beyond his head. Behind my sunglasses, I close my eyes quickly in a silent apology.
It’s wrong to stare.
I continue on my walk down Wilshire, and I’m all too aware that I’m the only one out on the barren L.A. sidewalk. It’s too much. The smell of car fumes finally gives way to the overwhelming scent of pines as I make a quick left to start the steep ascent up a hilly residential street.
Escape.
People say they need therapy to figure out what’s wrong with them, what other people have that they don’t. Money. Happiness. Sanity. Time. They want a quick fix, a diagnosis and a pat on the back and reassurance that everything will be okay – they don’t have time to dig deeper toward the root of the problem, nor do they want to admit that their dissatisfaction might stem from a problem within themselves.
Generally speaking, people are always in pursuit of a kind of simplicity they claim to have achieved at some point in their lives. The reality, though, is that this simplicity still resides within them, and always will.
But it takes a certain kind of calm to find it again. The kind of calm they can only find in solitude, but never in isolation.
Walk it out.
It’s dusk and as I shuffle along the sidewalk, only glancing up at every third car horn, I notice that I’ve already passed five cars in the span of 20 steps. I’m counting. They haven’t moved. I have. I shift my eyes to the right and study the face of a businessman mouthing angry words into his Bluetooth headset. Fancy car, fancy man. Everything about him is clean in a way that is uncomfortable and, moreover, unhealthy.
It looks like he’s washed and pressed his shirt a thousand times before donning it, a pristine disguise meant to conceal his very human flaws.
I wonder how many times he scrubbed his hands at the sink before leaving the office, purging himself of the germs he no doubt contracted from one handshake after the next.. Human interaction, washed down the drain.
Do his kids run out to greet him when he gets home, I wonder?
A large sedan tries to merge in front of his car. Red light. No one is moving, and yet the man in the pressed shirt inches forward to prove a point. Do not pass. Every man for himself and damn the rest.
Isolation. I know nothing about this man, can only judge him based on this quick snapshot of his life. It’s not his best moment. I momentarily catch his eye, and I quickly pretend as though I’m looking through his window at a point just beyond his head. Behind my sunglasses, I close my eyes quickly in a silent apology.
It’s wrong to stare.
I continue on my walk down Wilshire, and I’m all too aware that I’m the only one out on the barren L.A. sidewalk. It’s too much. The smell of car fumes finally gives way to the overwhelming scent of pines as I make a quick left to start the steep ascent up a hilly residential street.
Escape.
People say they need therapy to figure out what’s wrong with them, what other people have that they don’t. Money. Happiness. Sanity. Time. They want a quick fix, a diagnosis and a pat on the back and reassurance that everything will be okay – they don’t have time to dig deeper toward the root of the problem, nor do they want to admit that their dissatisfaction might stem from a problem within themselves.
Generally speaking, people are always in pursuit of a kind of simplicity they claim to have achieved at some point in their lives. The reality, though, is that this simplicity still resides within them, and always will.
But it takes a certain kind of calm to find it again. The kind of calm they can only find in solitude, but never in isolation.
Walk it out.
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