Because I was asked, here are my hypothtical wedding colors: Vibrant blue, pewter,eggshell white and black. Ahhh! I’m getting too girly! Save me!….
Yesterday after weeks of plotting and schmoozing I was brought on as a summer intern for my favorite local magazine, (614).
A few years ago when I first found out that I would need an internship in order to graduate with a journalism degree my first thought and hope was to work for (614) Magazine, then just a fledgling publication a few months old.
I would get excited at the beginning of each month to find the new issue delivered to my job and just decided that I really wanted to write for them.
They have the kind of hip, fun but still solid writing style that I love and I really wanted to be able to work in something outside the stringent world of newswriting.
So then with this wish in my heart, a few months ago the editor came in to my magazine writing class to talk about what they look for in writers and interns and I got even more determined to work there.
Then a few weeks ago I saw that the magazine was holding their two-year anniversary party at a hip, new bar and decided this was my chance to make an impact. There were countless journalism and comm students emailing their resumes and internship requests to the magazine so I needed to make an impression.
So I brought along my most social friend, put on a sexy, yet covered up dress and hit the party. We ended up having a complete blast and met some of the most amazing people including the owner and GM of my favorite radio station, fashion editors, lawyers, business owners and CEOs of a multi-million dollar company who ended up buying us two bottles of wine and dinner (That’s a whole other story…).
And of course, Travis, the editor.
I told him how much I loved the magazine, what I liked and could write and how much I would love to work for him.
And he couldn’t have been cooler.
He told me that he loved my enthusiasm, gave me his card and said I should email him with my resume and some clips.
A few days later I sent off a charming email begging for a chance and within a few days he had me coming in for an interview.
The entire interview lasted maybe 20 minutes and was incredibly relaxed. At the end he almost casually says that he wants to bring me on for the summer and starts asking me when I want to work. I’m trying not to grin and squeal too much but I’m really excited. This is something I’ve wanted for years and is exactly what I want to do for the rest of my life.
The internship will consist of me working directly with Travis, pitching and writing stories, helping to edit, going on interviews with him and transcribing, helping to put the magazine together for print and attending events all over the city for them.
This, is awesome! I feel like this will be easily the most fun and most rewarding job I’ve ever had and I know it will make it so much easier to send in story ideas to them after I graduate since I’m “in” now.
I quite literally couldn’t be happier, and this is yet another element in my life that I’ve refused to have a plan B for because I knew if I wanted something badly enough I would make it so.
Case in point: I knew I wanted to get into OSU so I didn’t apply anywhere else. I knew I wanted to make it into the journalism program so I had no fall back major. I knew I wanted my ridiculous little sports car, so I found a way to pay for it without taking out a loan. And I knew I was in love with a man who was my close friend four years ago and there was no other option than for us to be together, and I made it so.
I just feel like if something is important enough, having a back-up plan just gives you an out to accept mediocrity in your life.
And that, it just something that I’m not willing to do.
(*Go to (614) and scroll down to their event pictures and you’ll see me on the intro shot and in several other pictures from the party- it’s kind of wild and random, although for some reason my arm looks enormous*)
I have two multimedia journalism classes, of which one is requiring me to take a lot pictures so far. Here are a few of my favorites from different assignments:
The think about adulthood that no one really warns you about until you’re knee-deep in it is that it will only get harder to make real friends the older you get. I always thought that being more mature and having greater financial means would mean more dinners, nights out and other social events.
I clearly imagined I would be at the point in my life where I could have fancy dinner parties and people would gladly dress up and come over just like in movies.
Turns out, movies lie.
I don’t know who does these things. I don’t know who can have couples nights or a weekly get together with a group of friends without 80 percent of them flaking out for no particular reason. I assumed that older friends meant that they were more likely to stand by plans, but it’s just becoming harder and harder to have real, meaningful relationships with people who I’ve met in the last several years.
This makes me conclude that either:
A. I kind of suck and am really not all that likeable. (I’m not ruling this out)
or B. Almost everyone goes through this, they just don’t really talk about it because they don’t want to sound sad and desperate.
I however, clearly have no shame in ever sounding sad or desperate.
This said, the other night I went out to a social event, Cocktails at the Conservatory, to do a photography assignment for a class when I realized that being alone in a social situation while taking pictures of strangers makes you feel awkward as ass.
After I had been there for a while, thinking “I’ve made a huge mistake”, a guy comes up and starts talking to me and I explain what I’m trying to do. He then invites me over to a table full of his friends (guys and girls, nothing weird) and I spend the next four hours hanging out with total strangers and making friends.
Truth be told, I can’t remember the last time that I made friends with people who weren’t co-workers, classmates or a friend of a friend or a friend of John’s, it just doesn’t happen.
But I had a blast! It made me realize that people limit themselves when it comes to meeting new friends because it sucks so much to leave your comfort zone. I could have more, and better, friends if I was just more socially adventurous.
I really feel like there is a lesson here, but until then I’ll just enjoy knowing that for at least one evening, I didn’t totally suck.
Holy crap I’m overwhelmed! I have just completed the first week of spring quarter and I’m truly worried that I’ve made a giant mistake by taking the three classes that I’m currently in at the same time.
First and foremost I have The Lantern, our school newspaper which is awesome and terrifying at the same time. You never stop working when you have this class, it’s full-time insanity. Great for resumes and experience, terrible for not spending your days huddled in a corner crying.
I also have two multimedia oriented classes which are also very time-consuming and fast paced. I’m not exactly a technology person, OK, that’s a lie, I am not whatsoever a technology person, so I’m a little scared here as well.
I know I always freak out every quarter, and I know it always ends up alright and I get good grades, but this quarter will quite possibly ruin my chances of getting Suma cum Laude if things go awry.
On the plus side I get to play with awesome professional camera equipment all weekend, which is just making me want to spend a grand to buy one.
This however, is probably a terrible idea because I am no longer working during the week to allow for me to give my all in school, so I’m making at least $400 less per week. Let’s hope it’s worth it, and they don’t find me huddled someone, crying and ranting about AP style and shutter speeds.
I go in bouts of loving and hating working out, I also go in bouts of caring and only wanting to sleep in every second of my non-existent free time. The last nine months I can say that I fit squarely in the “hating” and “sleeping” categories because at the end of the day I’m really the only one who has to be happy about my activity level.
Well as it would happen sitting in a chair writing or lying down sleeping doesn’t burn off as many calories as I might hope. I keep telling myself that I’ll start working out ‘next quarter’; I haven’t been inside a gym since last May.
So naturally I gave myself the same line about ‘next quarter’ recently, only to realize that I might actually have to abide by my own promise.
Because I’m getting married next spring I knew that eventually, say, when school ended, I’d have to start working out to look good for the wedding. But after actually using my brain, I realized that I need to be relatively the same size I’d want to be for the ceremony when I go to buy and get fitted for my dress when I go shopping in early June.
*Lia does math…*
This gives me two and a half months to get into the shape I want to be 14 months from now. Which means that I ‘ll have to keep working out after that for the next year to “maintain” once I’ve reached my goal.
Awww, damn it.
There are few things in this world that feel better than finishing writing a story. When you can read through it seamlessly and at the end just sigh and smile, that to me, is happiness. But then again I’m a journalism nerd so my definition of happiness might be far removed from the normal person’s.
Last night I finished my final project, a 1,000 word written feature story, and I can say with all my conviction that I love it. I loved the interview, I loved how it turned out, I even have a sick urge to use the rest of the material I got from the interviews and try to write a much longer magazine style piece from it, if I ever have time.
My only worry is that the last time I felt confident about my story my professor tore it to shreds, but every other time I haven’t felt confident whatsoever and I’ve gotten fantastic grades. So I’ve begun to question my own judgement a bit.
But none of that really matters right now, it’s done, I can’t do anything else. I’ve put something I really enjoyed out there and I’ve just got to hope she feels some of that enjoyment reading it.
That being said, I’m now done with the quarter (I have one little, easy final a week from today but I’m not really counting that). And next time I’m back in classes I will be part of The Lantern, our school’s award-winning newspaper, and have an opportunity to get some real published clips under my belt.
So I’m happy and the most relaxed I’ve been in two and a half months. It’s a very, very good day.
My life is a gross, hectic mess and the only thing that’s been keeping me mildly sane is the fact that within 13 weeks I will be done with classes. This is also known as the greatest feeling EVER!
That was until I went to speak with my adviser on Friday only to find out that I am missing a class for my minor. Now, mind you, I thought that I had finished up my minor this past summer. I quite distinctly remember sweating my ass off while learning sociological theories.
The reason why I thought this is because no other adviser had ever uttered one single word about there being requirements for my minor other than just the credit hours needed. Not when I first applied for it, not when it was accepted, not when I came in after I thought that I had finished it last summer. Not one single word.
Four different advisers in the past two years and not one said a single word until last week. I wouldn’t even have a minor if it wasn’t required at this point.
I just want to be done, I can’t stand it anymore. I’m overwhelmed all the time, and next quarter is going to be even harder. I work all the time, I’m in school all the time or working on stories and projects all the time, and that leaves me the ability to be sane and stable none of the time.
I do have an advising appointment with someone in the Sociology department on Friday so my basic plan is to cry and be pathetic; something I excel at. If only I could have minored in being a sad-sack of crap, I would clearly have more than enough credit needed at this point.
I’ve been a bit of a whiny bitch as of late. It’s cold, my job hasn’t been fun for months, school was killing me and I was beginning to question my direction in life.
But things are starting to look up. Yes, it’s still cold, but I’m persevering through the rest of it now.
I just got a new job, still bartending, but now at a brand new bar in the most hip and trendy part of downtown that is always busy, no matter what. In other words, money, and lots of it hopefully. And since they’re only open at night it will allow me the perfect opportunity to guarantee that I make a good living while working on freelance stories during the day.
This brings me to school. I had been heartbroken and completely shut down after a harsh critique of a profile I wrote until I realized that I just needed to suck it up. I’m in school to learn to be a better writer and I can’t do that if I won’t allow myself to learn from constructive critisism.
Since this realization I have gotten excellent feedback from other stories, including a personal shout out from my professor on how great my magazine piece was. To say that I’m happy is the understatement of the century.
And now in about five minutes I will schedule what should be my last quarter of college (all depending on whether or not I can squeeze in an internship at the same time, otherwise it will be this summer). Regardless, this means that at the beginning of June I will finally, finally be done with classes and able to begin to live my life the way I’ve been wanting to for years.
If that isn’t happiness then I don’t know what is.