Monday, January 17, 2011

Dreams Still Require "The Struggle"

College cripples its student population with its unwritten constitutional clause: each college student will graduate with the career of their dreams. We walk into our college classrooms, take classes in things that interest us, form some concept of the career path we want, and thus, expect to receive a job offer wrapped with our degree on graduation day. At some point, we’re hit with the reality of being an adult… NOthing is handed to you that easily (even if you did sit in 4-years of classes at your prestigious institution).

Damnit… I’m knee-deep in a puddle of reality.

In talking with friends who graduated in 2010, many of them are working little odd jobs just to survive as an adult. Some friends still have no idea what they want to do with their careers. Others are still in pursuit of a dream, climbing industrial ladders to one day land in their dream career seat. All in all, this illustrates the definition of “The Struggle.”

Every successful adult fought “The Struggle.” Face it. I may spend my first year or two (or three) working at a place that I hate. I may spend my first few years making little to no money, learning the many ways of stretching rice and pasta for dinner.

But… the lesson to be learned in “The Struggle” lies in these words: never let the realities of life kill your dreams.

Push On.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

... Now what?

Please excuse my absence from blogging folks. Yup… applying for jobs and studying for midterms (let’s not mention the nightly reading/homework assignments) can drive you slightly insane. It’s fine… I’m back.


Many notable moments took place during Tuesday’s elections.

Jan Brewer maintains the governor seat in Arizona…
Republicans take over the House of Representatives…
No African Americans in the new U.S Senate…

And to put the icing on the cake, Sarah Palin (@SarahPalinUSA) tweeted, “Very clear message to Pres Obama: we’ll send our representatives to DC to stop your fundamental transformation of America. Enough is enough.”

Is this all in response to Obama’s [supposed] failure to bring change? Do Palin’s words ring a bell at all?

I’m not much of a politician, but I am an advocate of human rights and a person of ethical standings. If I recall correctly, Jan Brewer signed Bill SB1070, mandating all immigrants to carry their immigration papers on their person. Failure to have these documents at any given time will result in detainment and, potentially, deportation.

Republicans, upset from the McCain/Palin lost in 2008, set out to put America back on track. “Tonight, the sun sets on a one-party corrupt state,” said U.S. Senate elect Mark Kirk last night in reference to the Republican takeover of the traditionally Democratic Illinois Senate seat.

Does this make you think of any other time in history? Perhaps… the days when carrying documentation was a matter of life or death for African Americans—enslaved Blacks caught without a “pass” while outside the plantation were beaten or killed under the suspicion of running away. Or… the days when politicians like Jefferson Davis took severe measures in their opposition to the president, heading a mass secession of states from the Union (his “representatives to DC” were the Confederates…). Or, even better… the period when Blacks could not hold any government office.

As the old saying goes, history repeats itself… but to what extreme? In 2008, the American people shouted for change, electing the first Black president of the United States. Last night, those same people lost hope in that desire to continue pushing for change. Two steps back...

What happened?

But most importantly… Now what?
Tell me what you think.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Personal Essay-- The Re-Write

I went back to work on the edits for my personal essay. Editing your own work is the hardest thing! But, of course... I procrastinate until 5am.

When I went back to look at the piece, it evoked a little emotion from me. My teacher asked for more background... and unlocking the memories I chose to put away was a little painful. I acknowledged some of things in my past that is key to analyzing who I am today.

Can you hear my voice now?


I have never been alone. This is my immediate thought as my black Toyota-- filled with snacks, a loaded iPod, and 3 suitcases of clothing—enters onto I-94. It’s pouring. Many romantic novels use water to symbolize a baptism. I watched the raindrops fall unto my car at such a thick and rapid pace. At one point, I seemed to be submerged underwater, struggling with the idea of being in solitude. This simple Labor Day weekend trip to Nashville turned into something more. It became my voyage to self-discovery.
It rains throughout the majority of Indiana. How could I be on the road with two people and still feel alone? I try to think of what that word even means. My ships (the endearing term for line sisters) and I interject brief, non-linear sentences about being single. After the first exposure to true love, “it’s hard for me to believe that I will ever find someone else,” my ship summarizes perfectly. I convinced myself that I beat those odds. Everyone says that women find their husbands in college. I had an advantage. My high school sweetheart filled my world with everything I needed, serving as my best friend and companion. I didn’t need to find “the husband” in college. Though, I spoke too soon. Those attributes which kept me in love with him, left me vulnerable. I transitioned from the familiar and friendly faces of my predominantly black high school into the diverse new world of college. Afraid, I relied on his comfort. But, he was not there. 
On the tail-end of I-65, the clouds disappeared to unveil the morning sun. My urban up-bringing sheltered me from the beauty of the rural south. “Welcome to Kentucky.” The fields of green grass sprout with hints of autumn. This warmth sends me into the past. I remember my childhood. I sat near the phone on summer days, anxious for my mother to say I can come back now because she’s home from work. Disappointment.  She spent her free-time with her boyfriend’s family. I lied in my granny’s bed those nights. Nightmares occurred at an early age, but I awakened to my granny’s smile and invitation to watch Arsenio Hall or Oprah. I played with the neighborhood kids under the loving eye of my grandmother. Her motto: if I can’t see you, you’ve gone too far. December 5th will mark the fourth year of my search for her. Afraid of change, I relied on her words for support in my transition into adulthood. But, I can no longer see her… she is not here.    
Nashville served its purpose, unexpectedly. The most life-changing moment happened at Carnton Plantation. My first visit to a slave plantation brought me back to reality. The richness of battered hands and broken families lay fresh in the door handles of the slave cabins as we reflected upon our history. Somehow, despite the unfathomable conditions of losing loved ones to grave bearings (human auctions or death), slaves maintained an individual strength resulting in both self-reliance and an ability to adapt to change for their survival.
Back on the road and again confronted with my thoughts. I’ve moved in a circular pattern through the last four years. Emotionally exposed, I refused to deal with the changes in my life and found comfort in the first warm smile on campus. The instability of that friendship placed me where I am now. I am single and my grandmother is gone. My mother lives in Florida with my sister’s family, leaving me in Evanston. For the first time in 21 years, I’m bombarded with no sense of home, no sense of where I belong. I am alone internally; lacking self-reliance because I looked to others to fill that void in the past. I walked out of my car with the desire to be alone. I need a strong loving and reliable relationship with myself to not feel disappointment when loved ones cannot be there for me. This trip began with heavy rain, yet resulted in a new attitude. The quest for self-reliance begins this fall.  

Personal Essay-- First Draft

September 28th

My Magazine Writing teacher introduced us to the work of Peggy Orenstein. She writes in the personal essay format, while connecting her piece to larger issues. We were able to speak with her in class, and she said the following about essay writing:

"Prioritize what part of your experience can capture a big experience. Capture the moment!"

Orenstein also mentioned the importance of developing voice. "Be the same person. Overtrying, it just happens. You think about what something needs to sound like. You do have to consciously think of your talent, but I sound like the way I talk."

We were assigned to capture a moment from our summer vacation. Yes, this could easily turn into the elementary school How I Spent My Summer Vacation story... but we had to dig deeper. Below is my moment, and my teacher's edits. Can you hear my voice?

I have never been alone. This is my My immediate thought as my black Toyota-- filled with snacks, a loaded iPod, and 3 suitcases of clothing—enter onto I-94. Grey skies accompanied by heavy downpour are every novelist’s dream description of protagonist-ic reflection. (Just say it’s pouring) My voyage to self-discovery, via a fun-filled Labor Day weekend road trip to Nashville with two of my line sisters, begins as such. (Simplify this sentence)
It rains throughout the majority of Indiana. How could I be on the road with two people and still have that pessimistic feeling of loneliness?(I’m not grasping “I’ve never been alone” with why loneliness at this point) I think to myself that maybe I should consider what my definition of loneliness is. My ships (the endearing term for line sisters) and I interject brief, non-linear sentences about being single. The first guy to take a girl’s heart tends to be the one who we imagine being with forever. Upon losing that first love, “it’s hard for me to believe that I will ever find someone else,” my ship summarizes perfectly. (Finding love is another topic…)
I fell in love at an early age. Winter 2004, a sandy-brown haired, beautiful hazel brown-eyed boy held the key to my heart… as mushy as that sounds. Our relationship was founded on friendship; Lewis became the best friend who I could be myself with, tell anything to. A young girl who never had the stability of a father-figure in her life, Lewis bandaged that never-ending wound. However, all young and bright-eyed relationships experience turbulence, and in the times when I needed him, he was not there. (This modifies Lewis, not you)
On the tail-end of I-65, the clouds disappear to unveil the morning sun. Being an urbanite, born and raised in Chicago, I had yet to experience the beauty of the world around me. (Had you been out of Chicago? Say this more plainly) “Welcome to Kentucky.” Fields of green grass with hints of autumn on its tips. Flocks of birds dancing in amongst the low, warm blue skies. This warmth sends me into the past. Memories of my childhood frequent, Reminding me of the days playing with my neighborhood friends outside while my Granny watered the grass from her porch. The cool breeze awakened from a nightmare and look over to see my Granny, watching the late-night news or talk shows. (Phrase this differently) She was my constant when my Mother worked. And again, at a period when I need her most, she is not here.
Nashville served its purpose. The country music capital of the world showed us how to really party. Our days consisted of an overwhelming amount of eating, and our nights ended with drunken debauchery—it’s also known to be a great trip when you’ve fallen off a mechanical bull from the imbalanced stupor that alcohol creates. (You could cut this out—could transition to the plantation) Unexpectedly, the most life-changing moment of the trip happened at Carnton Plantation. My first visit to a slave plantation brought me back to reality. The richness of battered hands and broken families lay fresh in the door handles of the slave cabins as we reflected upon our history. Somehow, despite the unfathomable conditions of losing loved ones to auctions or death, slaves maintained an individual strength resulting in both self-reliance and an ability to adapt to change; Their motivation: survival.
I have never been alone. (This repetition isn’t clear to me) Back on the road for return and again confronted with my thoughts. The instance that my grandmother passed away, my first love shortly followed. The moment I went to college—an entirely new world—my best friends went away to school. As My mother grew lonely in Chicago, and eventually she moved to Orlando to be near family while I study away at school. For the first time in 21 years, I’m bombarded with no sense of home, no sense of where I belong. I am alone internally; lacking the abilities of self-reliance and adaptation to life’s changes. Witnessing the grace embedded in the mountains of Tennessee, warmth sewn in the fields of Kentucky’s grass, and the simplicity of Indiana’s flatland, I realize the need to be alone. (A little cliché, make it more. Why the need to be alone?) Society views solitude as a form of depression, but it is the opportunity to build a relationship with yourself to become independent. The journey begins this fall. (Nice ending!)  
Tiffany—There is a lot of lovely writing here and is a lovely “moment”—let’s simplify—don’t over explain. I’d leave out the boyfriend example—he doesn’t add to it. Add more background info about you.

Monday, September 27, 2010

Duality

Who am I living writing for? Part one.

One of the main components of journalism is audience. Who are we writing for? Who will be reading our words? As a magazine student, you spend considerable time mapping the pages of magazines: visualizing the individual reader and understanding the tone and language of the magazine, since this information dictates the style of writing that should be committed to your currently blank Microsoft Word document. We are told to write to “fit” some generic editorial prototype. Essentially, we are trained to please our audience.

I secretly possess that same mentality in my personal life. My grandmother was my reason for choosing Medill. I didn’t want to be THE grandchild who went away to college and never returned.  I allowed myself to entertain my Ex longer than preferred because I didn’t want to break his heart like most couples when they depart for college. I drove myself crazy last spring hunting summer jobs in Orlando to help my Mother adjust to living in a new place. My personality has been one who caters to my audience; family and friends who I love dearly.

William Zinsser asked in his best-seller On Writing Well: “Who am I writing for?” His answer, “You are writing for yourself.”

At the end of the day, I can sit and imagine William Hearst himself as my audience, but how could he enjoy my words if I don’t have a passion for them myself? I can also sit and elaborately plan how to successfully live my life in a way to bring happiness to the ones I love, but how happy will I be in the end?

Zinsser adds: “Just as it takes time to find yourself as a person, it takes time to find yourself as a stylist, and even then your style will change as you grow older.”

My style as a writer may not ever fit the girly Front-of-Book departments in Cosmo. My life-choices may not ever directly satisfy any of my family or friends. I have no idea how my writing style and future will evolve, but I will remember the following before every blank Word document:

I am (living) and writing for myself.

Friday, September 24, 2010

MJ's Sermon

September 12th, 2010
MJ: Well, your mind is where God’s spirit dwells, the Holy Spirit (your conscious)… and the heart/your feelings are of your flesh. So, you’re supposed to trust your mind more than your heart.
Late night G-Chat conversations prove to be the healthiest and most enriching in college. Since you’re on this crack schedule that does not permit sleeping at “normal-people” times of the night, your mind is more capable of being distracted from boring homework and brought into deep reflection. Last night was one of those nights, as the theme of this September 12th conversation contains life-long relevancy.
My entire junior year can be summed-up into one noun: feelings. When you’re enamored in any given person or situation, a bubble is created which does not provide any room for negative or meaningful thinking to penetrate. The only thing that matters is the actions inside of that bubble. However… if you’ve ever played with a bottle of bubbles during your childhood, you do realize that all bubbles formed eventually burst. And… we’re suddenly bombarded by the real world. We’re caught in a conflict between heart and mind. Which do you follow?
The never-ending drama and changes throughout that year brought me to a serious breaking point. I am very much so a Christian and believer in Christ as my Savior, but being at my lowest definitely made me work on my relationship with Him. Through that relationship, many of the decisions I’ve made became clear before my eyes.
We’ve all had feelings for someone so strong that all you want for them is pure happiness. And… you go out of your way to ensure that person’s happiness, sometimes, even before your own. However, your mind (under Christ’s influence) makes you question some of the things your heart is willing to do for them. Many see it as over-thinking the situation, yet some see it as a warning for the things your heart refuses to see.

Tip toe outside of your bubble for 5 minutes
Again, which do you follow?

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Blood, Sweat, and TEARS... yield Transformation

I’ve always imagined college as an apparatus which receives you as a raw, unfinished product and yields a beautiful masterpiece. If that theory stands true, then it is to be assumed that there is a concise formula to achieving a successful college career. Every prospective j-school freshman is required to own and watch regularly The Devil Wears Prada (check). Each j-school freshman must have a favorite journalist, usually some hard news junky of The New York Times circa 1960 OR at least be able to name all the past editors of The New York Times (hmmm…). All j-school sophomores and juniors must have awesome summer internships where they’ve added print by-lines from top publications to their portfolios (gosh, does JC Penny count as an internship?). Lastly, a j-school senior will graduate and begin the life of their dreams: staff reporter/writer for a major publication in NYC accompanied by the love of their life that they’ve dated since freshman year.

Well… according to that formula, I am not anywhere near ready to graduate this upcoming June. Yes, I do own and watch The Devil Wears Prada regularly because it provides motivation. No, I do not know the editors of The New York Times, but I do know and own issues from Emil Wilbekin, Mimi Valdés, and Danyel Smith of Vibe Magazine (the past editors-in-chief of the best hip-hop magazine ever, hands down). No, I have not worked as a summer intern for any top publication, but I am the Managing Editor of Goddess Magazine, who also happens to write features and mentor my team of teen staff writers. Lastly, I am a j-school senior who will graduate in June 2011, yet has no concrete plans for post-graduation other than the desire to WRITE-- do notice my failure to touch on having a love of my life… as of now; my baby boys are the only guys who fit that criterion. I am a writer at heart, with a passion for helping and telling the pure stories of those who cannot express themselves. I am a human being who exudes the beauties and imperfections of my soul. This newsy yet slightly personal blog will illustrate the makings of MY masterpiece.