Finals

This week, the infamous five-day period known as finals, has contained more than its fair share of stress. Last year, at the end of fall term, I had 5 hard courses--each day of finals required hours of studying for the corresponding end exam. This year, however, I traded in my spot in the alcove of Hamersly for my desk in the Journal office. Tucked away in the basement of the student building, I have a coffee maker, a mini-fridge, and, of course, my supply of chocolate.
Rewinding to the end of last week, I had hoped to use some of the weekend's precious hours to get ahead on my final projects. The hours of studying were not needed this year, but take-home exams and group work substituted their own time demands. Nonetheless, unexpected messages brought new issues to deal with and the need to spend some time in prayer. Monday through today, I spent my days running from building-to-building, my schedule of back-to-back meetings, holiday parties, interviews, and work keeping me on my toes from sun-up to sundown. Monday afternoon, I thought I'd sneak home early--enjoy a rare dinner with dear friends and work in the quiet of the upstairs bedroom. But the stress of the week was already evidencing itself upon my psyche--misinterpreting messages meant for good caused tears and made potentially productive hours dissolve in grief and guilt. Maybe one day I'll learn to stop interpreting--to somehow be more genuine and open--but Monday proved another failure. Tuesday dawned as busy as the rest of the week. Only around 9 p.m. was I finally able to creep into my basement lair and begin the work of writing my last final. Questions expanded, answers extending much longer than required, but the careful crafting together of phrases soothed my rattled mind.
Wednesday, another busy day, but the busyness was conquerable--as long as its scheduled, it's something I can control. Emotional surprises are harder to deal with than a 6+ hour marathon working to complete a final. Life, I'm sure, will require its share of both, but now, waiting for the last meeting of my crazy week, I'm happy to report that I made it--the finals have been written, the papers turned in. Let Christmas Break begin!

Sports Writing is Safer

When I pull out a homework assignment, I normally approach it with the assumption that the experience will unfold relatively predictably--especially for something as simple as a story read-through and analysis. However, tonight was the exception to that rule. I read a story written by a classmate in my Fiction Workshop class that was the singular most horrifyingly violent and pornographic piece of writing I have ever read, and the physical details of the protagonist (age, gender, lifestyle) hit all too close to home.
I hate grappling with the dark side of life. Recently branching out of my shell, I watched the movies "Fight Club" and "Boondock Saints." Both contained significantly more violence and more sinister questions of existence than I usually care to consider. However, by closing my eyes during the worst parts and looking at other aspects of the film (plot, characterization, idea), I was able to maybe even enjoy the movies. When reading, I can't bock out offensive elements so easily. And what makes it harder to swallow is that I know there are real life counterparts to this material. As much as I don't want to admit it, evil exists and has pervaded our society.
I'm a journalist, but maybe that's just make believe. I love listening to people's stories and hearing about their individual passions, but as soon as something gets messy, I prefer to be far away. Maybe that's why I try to stick to more uplifting feature writing or "stick-to-the-facts" news reports. Most recently, I've started dabbling in sports writing--definitely a challenge, but as far as my experience goes, a clean one. Watch a game, look at the stats, write a story. Done.
I watch athletic events (regardless of sport) like I go through life, emotionally interacting with each play--be it a cheer or a whimper--as the game unfolds. The role of the careful observer, waiting until the final buzzer to draw conclusions, does not readily attach itself to my personality, though for a time, I can fulfill almost any role.
Of course, I hate losing, but what makes me catch my breath even more is when a player gets hurt. Anytime the audience is subjected to that artificial silence inflected on a playing field or court, my heart stops for a second. Something went wrong. If it were possible, in games or in life, I'd like to avoid these moments all together. I'd like to keep pretending that good prevails, that people don't try to hurt each other, that the right thing will always happen, and that those who train hard won't sustain injuries in the game.
My outlook might be described as "a naive optimism clouded by willful ignorance of reality." Ultimately, though, I wonder where I should draw the line: what parts of life ARE essential to informed living and which can continue to be overlooked for personal protection?

On Futurizing

On a drizzly November morning, I pulled myself out of bed at 6:30 and hit the road by 7:30 am, headed to Wilsonville for another journalism conference. Unfortunately, my university does not provide a Journalism degree. Therefore, I am constantly trying to find other ways to educate the paper's staff. And although early, this morning's offering definitely proved useful.
Tim Harrower's "Futurizing your Newpaper" presentation reinforced some ideas my managing editor and I had been tossing around earlier this week as well as sparked creative solutions for other problems our paper's been facing lately.
Apparently, 15" (or longer) stories seldom get read, and readers living in a constantly changing world are searching for more manageable chunks of information. Even when you're only dealing with an 8-page weekly college publication, catering to the readers should be a key consideration--at least in my opinion.
However, our low budget and lack of on-campus support often prove frustrating. I know that I thrive off of challenges, and when people only provide positive feedback, it's hard to know what to improve. On the other hand, those times that I do hear complaints, I find it hard to locate answers.
But this, a time of responsibility and wondering, is, like many others, only a season in life. I'm thankful for the resources I do have, and I'm looking forward to where the paper will go in the next 7 months. Hopefully, into the future.