Saturday, April 28, 2012

A little rant for the evening.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

The semester is almost complete.

I can't even begin to describe the sense of relief that has begun to come over me. Despite the numerous things I have to accomplish before I can claim to be done, I feel good.

All semester long, I looked at this mound of school work as a hellish monster that was sure to consume me in one piece. The reality: it was slightly less hellish than assumed and only ate one little piece of me at a time. BUT, the good news is, like a lizard's tail, my parts grew back slowly.

I also kept my hair. I did rip some out on occasion when things just weren't going my way and the devil was having a field trip in my mind. I also discovered some gray hairs, and eyebrow hairs, and eyelashes (which I found very strange). But I just borrowed some of the stuff my mom uses to get rid of her grays and everything is okay.
(Just kidding, Mommy. I love you.)
This semester flew by like some of the best parts of my life. They say time flies when you're having fun. I think time also flies when you don't have time to slow down and check your calendar or even your watch. I made a lot of self-discoveries. I learned a lot about myself, my endurance, my tolerance, my talents, my ability to overcome certain odds, my time management skills (and the need for improvement) and most importantly, my strength.

Sidenote: time for a tangent.


Don't ask why, but I decided to look up my career choice on Urban Dictionary to see how people "define me". This is what I found:
"Journalist: a professional liar. a professional distorter. a professional hate mongerer. they craftily use newspapers and television programs to create the illusion that the entire world believes like them. in reality, they are literally just a couple psychos with a really big megaphone. Like Satan, they only have any influence in your life if you choose to let them in."
Sit back. Here we go.

~Professional liar- actually, like most jobs, when journalists lie, they get fired. In fact, the job of an editor is to make sure the journalists are not liars. In fact, journalists are required to cite all information and sources to protects against lying. In fact, the first rule in journalism is "do not fabricate or falsify".

~Professional distorter- see above.

~Professional hate mongerer- I think I'll start by stating the obvious. The creator of this post on Urban Dictionary is obviously not a writer at all because "mongerer" is not in the English vocabulary. Second of all, someone has their panties in a twist. The job of a journalist is not to incite anger or hate. It is to convey factual information that educates the reader.

~Craftily using newspaper and television to create the illusion that the entire world believes like journalists- ha. hahahahaha. haha. That was my first reaction to reading this sentence. Craftily using newspaper and television? Yeah, that's not exactly how this field works. Television and newspaper use information put together by journalists. The journalists are not responsible for the information that is presented. They do not create the facts or the situations or the results. They simply act as a medium for the general public to receive information. And to make the public "believe like them"? Journalists don't believe anything. We're trained to basically doubt everything. We have to research the research that the researchers give us. We are trained to make sure that anything we say or use is obtained from an educated, professional, reliable source. The general public couldn't "believe like us" if they tried.

~A couple of psychos with megaphones- see local high school cheerleaders.

~They only have an influence if you let them in- This one is tough. They are referring to "journalists" here, but I think they're missing something bigger. Journalists have a lot less power over lives than marketers and advertisers. Not to say they are negative, but their job is to convince people to buy crap that they don't need. That's their job, you can't be mad at them for doing it. Billboards, TV commercials, advertisements on the web and in the paper and magazines, articles people read---everything has an affect on people. You can't help but let them in. Don't hate on journalists for bringing you the information you want. I guarantee the creator of this post has no idea how much positive affect the media has had on him/her. They are probably completely unaware that because of journalism, the rapist that lived down the street was caught. The drug dealer around the corner is gone. The business he/she owns has clients and customers because of media. True, these are extreme examples, but let's all just chill out.

I am not saying that other professions aren't challenging. Law school is hard. Medical school is hard. Hospitality management is a huge challenge. But journalism is it's own kind of OMGTHISISHARD. The amount work and dedication and time put into this career is often overlooked. I think it's time for some of us to stand up and show those Urban Dictionary haters what's up.


Saturday, April 14, 2012

I did not grow up.

I was raised.

I say yes ma'am, no sir, please, and thank you. I shake hands with someone when I meet them. I bow my head and fold my hands when I pray before my meal. I place my hand over my heart during the Pledge of Allegiance. I offer my seat to the elderly and mothers holding their children.

I was raised.

If I'm asked to do a job, I do it. And I do it to the best of my ability. I make my share of mistakes, but I own up to them. I learn to do things on my own so I do not have to depend on others. I do not expect to be given anything; I work for what I have.

I was raised.

I trust people until I am given a reason not to. I see the good in everyone, even when most people only see the bad. I give second chances, even though sometimes I shouldn't. I never make a promise that I cannot keep.

I was raised.

The choices I make are not based on what other people think. My beliefs are not based on what other people say. My values are not based on how the world has changed. My choices, my beliefs and my values are based on the way I was raised.

I was raised to be strong, independent, smart (street and book), modest, hard-working, trustworthy and self-confident.

But sometimes:
I have moments of weakness. I need someone to help me. I make stupid decisions. I say and do things I know I shouldn't. I slack off. I don't tell the whole truth. I doubt myself.

Thanks to my mother and father, I'm able to get past the weakness and dependence and mistakes and let-downs and doubts. I'm able to pick myself up, dust myself off and continue on with my head held high.

I did not just grow up, I was raised.


I miss you, Daddy.
10.07.2008 <3