Questions.

Three years ago, if you told me I’d be facing my senior year wondering where the last three years went, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Three years ago, if you told me, at 18, that at 21 I’d be worried about full-time employment, apartments, loan payments, and where I was going to live in a year from now, I’d be completely surprised.

Not only am I wondering when life, and the real world, snuck up on me, I’m wondering if I should really be surprised that I’m worried about this now, as opposed to 6 months from now when the rest of my peers will worry about it.

If I’ve learned one thing (and trust me, I’ve learned a lot more than that) in the past 3 months of my internship, it’s this: life doesn’t wait for you to catch up with it, and it won’t be handing anything to you anytime soon.

I spent 3 amazing months interning at a TV station, lucky for me, I learned a few things about my career choice and what the past three years of school has meant for me. For one, I can see myself doing this for the rest of my life. However, what I did learn that shocked me a bit were the options I could have, and I opened my mind to other avenues in television. While the ultimate goal is, and always has been, to be a reporter, I could definitely see the appeal to being a producer as well… especially down the road if I chose to get married and have a family (ya know, like I said, if anyone would ever want to settle down with my crazy self). After working with one of the station’s new TV shows, and closely with the producers of that show, I see the appeal, and the fun, of working in production.

Here’s something I did learn though that sort of scared me: after spending all of my life saying I will live and work in NYC post-graduation – the hub of what I want to do – I’m second guessing it. It’s true what they say it is a rat race out there. Frankly, people are very angry sometimes (especially at 8am or 5pm) and while I did meet plenty of people who made it worth it, or were willing to help, I met just as many people who were willing to step all over me or even be down-right mean (i.e. the man on the 5:23pm train that yelled at me to move my foot out of his way, thus prompting another woman to yell at him but still, why so angry?)

I know that I could handle it, but I just don’t know if it’s worth it to me anymore. People in NYC, especially those people commuting, can be very jaded sometimes. I think that unless I’m making enough money to live in a nice area and not have to have a far commute (like, from Long Island), and survive on my own two feet, I would be absolutely miserable. I don’t want to be broke and angry. (Inevitably, based on my loans and the job market, I’m sure I’ll be poor, ha ha).

So there was that realization. Obviously, it prompted me to start searching the internet at 9pm (which, when you’re working 2-10am, is extremely late and silly) for jobs and apartments in NY, RI, CT, MA and NJ…

First of all, there was no point in that because even if I did find a dream job, it’ll be filled long before I’m even able to apply. But second, and more importantly, the jobs I want are far and few and it’s not going to be easy. Especially when they all require experience in front of and behind a camera, which, if you’re unfamiliar with union rules, it’s impossible to get experience behind a camera at an internship without breaking lots of rules that no one will break.

So I’m left with a lot of questions right now: will I get the job I want and what happens if I don’t? Do I move back home after graduation or embark on a new journey, find some roommates, and live somewhere else? Will I be able to handle the job search mentally and emotionally? Will I make enough money to survive, and enjoy life post-graduation? Will my 20s post-grad really be an amazing experience, or will it be stressful and terrifying? And finally, when the heck am I going to work on my honors thesis with move-in approaching so quickly?

Well, I know the answer to that last one: right now.

 

 

 

The power of networking: my first paid piece of writing.

When I took my tour of Bryant, and pretty much every day since then, I’ve heard over and over “Network, network, network!” I’ve always thought it was, in general, a really good idea, however, I also always thought the people with the huge success stories from networking were rare.

Then this summer, I landed my internship at WPIX-TV with some inadvertent networking. (I seemingly stalked a former intern who now is a successful journalist for Newsday amongst other things and he was helpful enough to get me in contact with the right people). My story of how I came about applying for WPIX-TV set me apart and makes for a great conversation starter with anyone who asks, “So, how did you wind up landing this internship?”

In my mind, the power of networking was born.

Last summer, I interned with the Long Island Herald and while I was there I met a lot of different editors and reporters for the various community papers. I got to report and really get my hand in and understand community journalism. Not only did I leave with a portfolio of published bylines, but I also left with an increased network. A network which would land me another opportunity this summer…

While I still write occasionally for the Herald, another editor there moved on to Patch.com and reached out to me recently.

He remembered me from my time with the Herald and saw via my LinkedIn profile that I recently started as a News Intern at WPIX. That’s where he got the idea to ask if I would be willing to do some freelance for Patch. Paid writing? Count me in, right?

Not only will I get to write for Patch, but I will have the chance to put together some packages as video pieces for the website as well. For an aspiring TV reporter – a dream come true.

Last week, I got my first assignment: a story about the re-opening of a local burger joint, Long Island Cheeseburgers. Using the experience from working for the Herald last summer, I contacted the owner and wrote the story – and I got paid for it!

The story was published on the web on Monday and I learned it was the most popular viewed article that day – talk about awesome. Check it out here. It’s going to be pretty awesome when I get my first paycheck for writing an article – something I enjoy.

This summer, I’ve spent a lot of time with a reporter here – she’s been taking me out on the field with her and letting me sit in on her tracking, editing and production. The experience has not only solidified for me that this is what I want to do for my career but also given me the chance to learn outside the classroom – an infinitely better opportunity.

Just yesterday we practiced tracking and she gave me a lot of helpful advice on pitch, inflection and energy. In 5 minutes time I went from good to great, based on a few pointers from her and some practicing.

I’ve been able to practice standups, and now that I’ve got my very own tape, I should be taping some of those on camera and getting them to look over and even use as a reel for my next job interview (ya know, when I have an interview for a full-time job … eek!)

Former Theresa probably would have doubted that one day the people I’m meeting and spending a lot of time with here at WPIX might reach out to me or think of me if a job surfaces somewhere, but lately, all I think about is the connections I’m making and the advice I’m getting from people who could remember me in a few years.

In the industry that is media, it’s all about who you know, so for the next 2 months of my time here that’s the new motive to live by. Friday ends me first rotation at the news desk, so I might not be able to go out with Monica as much anymore :( – although I’m certainly not going to hesitate to ask if the opportunity arises – but I am going to have the chance to meet other reporters/anchors/producers here… and network, network, network!

Cops are paid too much, say the uniformed.

On Saturday morning, I got into a random disagreement with a girl (who I don’t even know) over Facebook about the salary that cops on Nassau County actually make and the education they actually need. It is becoming increasingly clear to me lately that people frequently speak without having any knowledge base, or ever checking their facts. I don’t consider myself to be all-knowing by any means, but I do know how to check facts before speaking.

Where am I going with this? Well, when I get into work in the morning I frequent all of the major Long Island news websites and check out the headlines – what caught my attention this morning? Yet another article from Newsday coming down on cops for their salary and benefits. This one, more extensive than any article I’ve read recently, went into detail about who makes what using data from county records and even cited retirement benefits.

Here’s the thing; I more often than not rant about how people don’t respect cops, and people spend way too much time talking down the men and women who risk their lives for our safety. That’s where my anger and my ranting comes from this morning.

I make no secret of the fact that I think Newsday is completely bias and spends far too much time and effort trying to devalue our public workers. I make no secret of the fact that I think our public workers are not the ones to blame for our financial turmoil. These men and women are a scapegoat. A scapegoat that the media and politics have created in order to keep people complaining about all of the wrong things.

One police officer is reported making $100 grand a year and the entirety of Long Island goes up in arms about how we are overpaying our police and crime doesn’t exist enough for them to get paid so much and their job isn’t even that dangerous! Where to even begin with that… where to even begin.

First and foremost, a lesson I learned in, oh I don’t know, Kindergarden, just because one person acts one way, doesn’t mean everyone else does. For every cop that makes 100K+ a year I can bet there are two more who are underpaid and struggling to  support their families. You simply cannot stereotype an entire police force based on a few men and women’s salaries.

Ironic how the Newsday has yet to public the salaries of every single police officer – because that is public information. Ironic only because if they were to do that, they would lose their angle when it was revealed that a vast majority of NCPD and SCPD probably don’t make nearly as much as the top paid officers they do report the salaries of.

But would it even matter anymore? Probably not. We’re all too far gone and too jaded to see through it all anymore. We probably wouldn’t even believe Newsday if they did publish that information, would we?

Newsday cites not just what they make individually though, but also the fact that the majority of county pay goes to police (the clever title of the article). Well Newsday, to quote your facts: “Police and sheriff’s department employees compose 45 percent of all county workers in Nassau and 38 percent in Suffolk.” If the employees make up nearly half of the county workers, would it not make sense for most of the pay to go there?

Once again though, it’s easy to blame the police. It’s easy to blame the men and women who risk their lives day in and day out to protect us in a county that, lets face it, is no where near as safe and  crime free as our media portrays it to be.

I leave with this rant towards someone who decided that police have a completely safe job, and construction or sanitation workers have it much harder, and face many more challenges of safety:

Do you happen to know factually that construction workers and sanitation workers are in more danger than a NC police officer? I’d argue that you have no idea and that you should probably consider checking your facts and actually having a slight idea of what an officer goes through. You all want to rant about typical NY, tpyical Long Island — well, typical NY and typical Long Island, why don’t you ask your media to report on the things that actually happen here on Long Island — we are so worried people will move out and run far and fast, so we don’t let the people know about the crime that goes on, the crime that day in and day out these men and women who serve the police force and protecting you all from. All of you who complain and say they are paid too much, or their job is too easy for their salary, I challenge you to quit your 9-5 and become a police officer. This is so typical of Newsday, slamming on the cops over and over again. 10 years ago these men and women were praised as heroes among us for all of their selfless efforts on 9/11 .. at the end of the day, they’d do it all again in a heartbeat — risking their lives for your safety while you sit inside of your homes safe and sound. Give me a break. Do you need hard crime and terrorist acts taking place on the daily in order for you to appreciate these people, or can you just wrap your head around the fact that they’re there when we need them, and that’s why we pay them, and that’s why they’re always being trained and retrained. When you go into work you know you’ll be home at the end of the day, ask a cop who got the call to go into work for a shooting in Freeport if he knows he’ll be home at the end of the night… right, because he doesn’t.

If people would stop and check their facts, and think before they speak, it might be more reasonable to have a conversation over this. A two-sided conversation that doesn’t just bash the cops, but looks for reasonable solutions to reasonable questions.

Rant off.

Generation 9/11 doesn’t have to be afraid of monsters under the bed anymore.

When does anyone really grow up? I’ve spent a lot of time since I got to college wondering when I’ll look in the mirror and think “Wow, I’m a grown up.” With everything going on lately, it’s hard to imagine that I’m not a grown up.

Last month, two police officers were killed in the line of duty and I was pulled into the very real reality of just how serious and life-threatening what my dad does every single day is. A few weeks ago, I had my phone and wallet stolen while out with friends. Faced with the challenge of putting my life back together the next morning – fraudulent charges on my debit card, no license or identification, or even keys into my dorm—feeling  helpless and lost, I tried to contact my parents for help – they were unavailable. Hours later, I learned it was because my mother had been rushed to the hospital that morning. We’re still waiting on solutions to that. This was the first time in my life where I needed my mom and she literally couldn’t be there for help and advice. This was the first time in my life where I had to deal with legal and police matters, and I didn’t have my dad at my fingertips offering up the solution and steps to take. I was a little freaked out to be honest.

While I knew the problems back home were bigger than my own carelessness, it was hard for me to put myself in that situation, while detaching myself from my own circumstances.

Growing up, I knew I wasn’t in the most normal of situations some of the time. My junior year of high school I was forced to handle adult like situations as if I’d had years of preparation – and I handled it well. I’ve always been grateful for those experiences – they have made me the person I am today. They have given me the values and beliefs that I feel most strongly about. They have shown me just how important a family is, and taught me how far I’d be willing to go for my family.

Spring Weekend came and went at Bryant, and I detached myself from all the stressful realities back home and gave myself a weekend to just have fun. I’d been really stressing out lately about my mom’s health and worrying myself into insanity. Then, on Sunday night my mom told me “President is going to make some important announcement.”

I called her back 15-minutes later, “ARE YOU WATCHING MOM?” She’d gone to bed. “Mom, go turn on the TV NOW, Bin Laden is gone. We got him. They killed him mom.”

It’s really easy to detach yourself from reality – to put things in the back of your mind. Even the most tragic of circumstances can sometimes become a distant memory. I remember September 11 clear as day – but it doesn’t mean I’ve spent much time reflecting on it in the past several years.

I was in band class, and our teacher wasn’t one to hold back, so when we were put on lock-down and told we had to wait for a parent to go home he went right ahead and told us there had been two planes that crashed into the World Trade Center. When I say that up until that point I was one of the most naïve children, I mean it.

I remember my mom picking me up and telling me and saying to her “So what, it’s just a building, mommy.” Then she reminded me WTC was the same as the Twin Towers, the buildings we’d visited on a school trip. “Oh, that’s not good.”

My dad was a first-responder. I was 12 years old and the image that is most clear in my mind, aside from the planes and the towers crashing

down, is of my mother: sitting on the couch, eyes glued to the television screen, cell phone in one hand, and home phone in another. She was so scared. That was the first time in my life I can remember actually being afraid of anything – because it was the first time in my life where I saw that my mom was afraid.

On Monday, I was at work watching a stream of ceremonies awarding Medals of Honor to deceased soldiers from the Korean War. Obama said this line: “…utterly disregarding his own safety…”

I got to thinking about all of the men and women who, day in and day out, do the same exact thing, and yet most of the time, they never receive any words of thanks or praise – and they don’t ask for it. They do it because it’s in their blood – they truly want to help Americans and they truly want to fight for our freedoms.

My GoogleReader then brought me to an Op-Ed piece by Bob Greene on CNN about American Character. I won’t spend too much time detailing what he said but I will only mention his main point: Bin Laden may have changed the way our daily routine exists in airports and security may have been altered, but he never changed the character of America.

On 9/11 there were countless first responders consisting of fireman, police and civilians, all wanting one thing: to help save lives. They utterly disregarded their own safety and ran into the rubble and chaos that the rest of the city was running away from. Many of them lost their lives in the fight; many are still struggling and suffering the consequences of their efforts.

There are always going to be people who are going to do that, and that’s what makes it so amazing to be American.  While we have spent the past 10 years grudgingly bitter over the longer waits at the airports, those men and women are who felt it more than us, because those people may have lost a partner on the force, an entire truck of firemen, or might now have cancer or other life-threatening ailments, because they were utterly disregarding their own safety.

Where were you when those men and women were searching desperately for survivors in the rubble hours after the towers crashed? Were you scared? Were you afraid? Were you hoping a friend or family member was not one of those who was lost to the terrorist attacks?

I was 12. Sitting. Waiting. Hoping my daddy would come home. And ya know what, the entire time, despite how scared I was, I knew that was what he wanted to be doing. I have never in my life met another man as selfless as my father. This is not to say there aren’t other people as selfless or more than he is, but needless to say, that is what he is. When they told him he should go home, he stayed anyway. He wanted more than anything to help those who were down in the rubble.

My dad is a hero. Not just my hero but an American hero. Every day he straps on a vest and goes into work and risks his life not just for me, but for everyone else in our Long Island world.

10-years ago, these men and women were praised and cheered for their efforts – commended for doing what they did on that dreadful day. Today, they are the blame for the financial demise our nation is in – their unions apparently the cause of our recession. Is that any way to treat a hero?

How quickly we forget the men and women who stayed for weeks hoping to find a survivor down at Ground Zero. The buildings were still falling around them, and they didn’t care. Instead, we allow politicians and the media to slowly pick these men and women apart.

So I wonder really, has American character changed? In a sense, no I don’t think it has. I think if you read the article, you can easily see there are people in the world who have not forgotten the thankless job those men and women did; but for one person who hasn’t forgotten, sadly, there is someone else who has. Someone else who is picketing the benefits allotted to first responders—fighting against the pensions police and firemen are allowed.

On 9/11 the terrorists wanted to break us down as a country. Instead, we came together in the face of tragedy. As the years went by though, a part of the American spirit and character of freedom and patriotism has been lost somewhere – slowly breaking us down, just as they wanted. Turning us against those who protect and serve.

So while there will always be those who will utterly disregard their own safety for the safety of others, we should not take that for granted. Those men and women were there for us in 2001, they are there now overseas, and they will be there again – let’s not forget that.

I thank God for those men and women – not only the troops, the police, the fire, but they everyday civilians. The heroes amongst us.

I call my hero ‘dad,’ who is yours?

9/11 defined my childhood, and the rest of my generation’s. We lost a little bit of our innocence that day and we were forever changed. So does Bin Laden’s death bring a twinge of relief to my heart—absolutely. For the 9/11 generation, the man that was synonymous with the monsters under the bed is gone forever, and that is something I’ve been waiting 10-years to hear. But nothing will ever take away the twinge in my heart when I see the images of the smoking towers, the hole in the NYC skyline, or the desperation on the faces of the first responders. We vowed not to forget 9/11, let’s not forget the heroes of that day, too.

As my dad would say, rant off.

Turning dreams into plans.

I could spend the next 10 minutes writing a long-winded explanation as for why I’ve yet to post a thing about my life in the past 3 weeks, make a single comment on the start of baseball season (arguably, the thing I’ve been most anticipating since Christmas season ended), or discuss in depth my internship offer. But you don’t care. What you do care about, are the answers to all of those questions and details about those things. So, I’ll start with the internship…

We discussed this, my application woes – I sent out 15 applications. I have big dreams and I’ve always prided myself in the fact that nothing has ever been handed to me. Which is a good thing since if you want a job in broadcast, nothing will ever be handed to you.

Well, after an unusual way of contacting the News Director at WPIX, I landed my first interview. Nervous as ever, I planned it for the Monday of spring break. My mom went with me so we could be sure I wouldn’t get lost, and I took the LIRR into Penn and then a taxi over to the News Building. It took me about 10 minutes to get on the right elevator, on the right side of the building, to get to the second floor – I really think my first test was figuring out how to even get to their office… good one WPIX.

I left my interview feeling confident, and nervous at the same time. I was told I wouldn’t hear until April 15. That is a long time to play the waiting game.

Luckily, Bryant decided to keep me busy—5 exams in one week? Sure. Papers, exams and homework assignments keeping me in the library until 2 am most nights since then? Absolutely. However, the Thursday night of that dreadful exam week, I got the e-mail alert from g-mail on the bottom of my screen. I was nervous … do I check, or do I ignore it until after my exam the next morning in case its bad news?

I’m compulsive. I checked. Then I cried. I got it. On my path to my dreams, this is absolutely a huge step. Last summer, working for a newspaper made me realize that while that was enjoyable, I wanted to get deeper and more involved and I wanted to explore TV. Now I can. I start June 6 and I will be rotating between 3 sections of the news room. I’m so excited.

In other news, I was elected as President of the Communication Society last week. Granted, I ran unopposed, but I’m still excited to bring all of my ideas and goals to the table for the next year. I’ve got my partner in crime at my side as Vice Prez, and I’m looking forward to getting into it.

In terms of updates, it looks as if I’ve got nothing left except to tell you all that I got first pick for housing next year, K5 will be the townhouse to be at and that I got all of my classes—but if you go to Bryant and you’re reading this, I’ve probably just made an enemy out of you – sorry! I’ll be taking 4 classes (a nice plus to being so ahead in credits) and they’ll all be on Tuesday/Thursday. This means I can break up my 20 hours of working between Admissions and the Writing Center a bit better, and that I can get some rest. I’ve realized more and more lately that I struggle with starting any work or papers before 11 PM because I get so busy in the day, and like to fit the gym in, so when I’m wired and doing work at 2AM, at least I’ll be able to sleep in a bit the next morning next year!

I’ll be taking Studio Production, Field Production, Marketing Policy, and Communication and Conflict Management in Intimate Relationships – maybe I’ll be able to figure out why my most serious relationship as of late has been with the library?!

As for now, I have to go to my tour time – Admitted Student Days and Open House have been going on on campus so Admissions has been pretty swamped! But I did realize, as I’ve been saying, you can’t stress things, especially those things which you don’t have control over:

Things turn out best for people who make the best out of the way things turn out.

I think that what has really got me through this past 2 weeks of fun filled insanity with no sleep, besides my friends, has been the thought that it’s all paying off. I’m so excited for this internship and it feels so good to know my hard work is getting me places. My parents always tell me I shine like a diamond, but it’s so amazing to see that other people see my potential and want to help me reach my dreams. I promised my dad when I picked Bryant that I’d get a job that when he told people about it, they wouldn’t react with questioning faces (although now, Bryant is so huge on Long Island since going DI and becoming more recognizable academically outside of New England—YAY BRYANT). Well, how’s WPIX sound for an internship, dad?

Hey uh, Katie Couric, I heard you’re leaving CBS – should I mail my application now?

When you can’t make lemonade from lemons.

I’ve just had my first moment to breathe since I’ve been back from spring break: its 1 am. In reality, this isn’t actually a moment to breathe, but more of a moment of procrastination. After completing my sociology homework, writing a 6-page film paper, reading an article for media effects (x2) and taking notes on another article for a presentation, I’ve decided to call it quits. Next week I’m looking at exams on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Oh, and class registration Thursday morning (the most stressful 45 seconds of every semester). No, this isn’t finals week, this is the way Bryant operates. Exams happen at the same time, and you learn to deal.

Do I have it worse than anyone else? Maybe, but probably not. Does my head feel like it’s going to explode? Absolutely. The good news is I’m learning to function on minimal sleep again! With my capstone proposal out of the way, I thought things might get easier for me – now I’m just glad the deadline was when it was so I don’t have to worry about that, too!

As I sat and vented with a friend about our looming exams, papers and presentations tonight I realized something: things aren’t as bad as they seem.

When I left home to come back to Bryant, I left a distraught and stressed out situation at home. Another death in my dad’s building at work, another cop making the ultimate sacrifice and dying in the line of duty. I thought to myself, this is the real world. My dad’s fears, whether admitted or not, are now centered on his own life and protection. The reality of how quickly a cop can be killed in the line of duty has been slapping everyone in the face a lot lately. And while I wonder and worry about my dad’s protection, it’s easy for me to put it in the back of my mind because life in college is a distraction. You live in a bubble and the outside world doesn’t seem to exist when you have 5 exams, 2 papers and a presentation in one week.

That’s when I came to this miraculous conclusion. Right after I had my first coffee that is. Well, a latte, is a latte still a coffee? It took me three years, but college and minimal sleep finally got to me. Let me tell you, I was wired and I only finished half of it. The effects are dying down now, and while I could finish it and keep going, I think my body will hate me tomorrow.  I digress.

What I’m saying here is that no matter what goes on in my life now; things are only going to get harder. Life is never going to stop throwing obstacles my way, and eventually those obstacles and fears are going to be life or death situations. So in reality, the stress I’m dealing with now is merely a preview of what’s to come in life. How we learn to deal with the obstacles in our lives as they come our way is a measure of our character, and our will power to carry on.

Does the fact that I have all of these deadlines and exams suck? Absolutely. But at the end of the day, I’m alive and healthy (aside from sleep deprivation that is) and I’m 21-years old and seemingly invincible. That’s when it came full circle for me. And if you can’t handle the obstacles now, what happens when things get real?

In a sense, I’m thankful for the pressures being put on me at this point in my life, because they are only bracing me for what comes next. And while I will admit I’ve had my fair share of real world obstacles at an early age growing up, the difference between now and then is that right now, I’m on my own to face them – and that’s how it’s going to be for the rest of my life. My actions are individual, and while I have my family to support me and comfort me, the only person who has to live with my choices at the end of the day is me; so I’m glad I’m learning now how to make good choices, and how to deal with life’s lemons when lemonade isn’t an option.

What if?

I’ve spent a lot of time recently wondering about the ‘what ifs’ in life. I’m not sure why because we all know that there is never a way of knowing the answer to those sorts of questions; but I can’t stop.

I think the part that confuses me the most is that life is very obviously a series of decisions – one move shapes the outcome of the next; and one decision sets you up for where your next decision might lead you.  I keep wondering how today would be different if it weren’t for decisions I made months ago; how tomorrow might be different if I make certain decisions today.

I think the problem is I have a fear of committing myself to one thing at the expense of something else. I feel like life has so many options, and once you make a decision you lose those options… or gain new ones. How does anyone ever know if they’re doing the right thing?

I’m always trying to be one step ahead of myself, one step ahead of the game – I’m always looking for ways to protect myself from the unknown, or worse, the painful reality of any decision hurting me at the end of the day.

That’s why I keep wondering now about the ‘what ifs.’ What if I never met the friends I have now; what if I had stayed in on the night I met the last guy I dated? Would I be better off; worse? How does anyone know if things are working out the way it’s supposed to?

I typically like to live my life day by day, and take things as they come; but whenever I have a minute to think (which is rare when you live on my schedule) these are the things I wonder about; I guess now I’m just wondering aloud because I can.

I feel like a lot of life is based on split-second decisions; and a lot of life in college is based on some confused decisions. Sometimes I don’t know if I have any idea if any decision I make is the right one and I wonder, is everyone out there just jumping head first into things hoping they don’t land at the bottom lost and confused? Because I’m pretty sure that’s what I’ve been doing lately.

The good news is in all of this ‘what if’ wondering aloud, I found a fortune cookie paper in my wristlet this morning (er, afternoon) when I woke up. It read: Good luck awaits you when you go home.  I’m guessing it means my permanent home, on Long Island – but what if it means here? What sort of good luck?

When did I start thinking this way about things? When did life get so complicated?

I apologize for being so deep and insightful with my posts and questions lately; I know that might not be what all of you come here for as usually I’m more easy going. But I also happen to enjoy the conversation that I’ve been having as a result of it all!

There’s nothing on the ground but your feet.

Sometimes I like to use my blog to vent, but I think I do so pretty delicately. I don’t think I necessarily start a post with the intention of verbal vomit; I like to use my venting to offer up some advice to those of you who follow along with the life and times of me…

Over the past several weeks I’ve made mention of the fact that my life has been a little more dramatic than I’d like it to be. I’ve felt very lost and very anxious about the immediate future – a change for me, I know, seeing as I’m usually anxious about the distant future at the expense of the immediate future. As out of character as this might sound to those of you who know me personally, or know me in the written-blog-sense, I’ve felt as if I have no idea what comes next… out of place inside my own body so to speak.

I make no secret the fact that I keep my circle of friends tight, and while my acquaintances might stack up, I put the bulk of my effort on the friendship front into a select number of people. For 21 years, that has worked out fantastically for me. Then I got slapped in the face with another one of those experiences that comes before the lesson.

At the risk of being overly dramatic, I will not divulge the details, but basically, I’ve been faced with some serious choices lately. Typically, I put others first and consider myself and my own options a consequence of how everyone else will feel. Then one day I woke up and decided not to do that anymore. To say the least, it hasn’t gone over well with many of the people closest to me.

That’s when I realized something: who cares? No, I don’t mean I don’t care at all, because I’m upset that I’ve become public enemy number one to people I care about over the course of a month without doing anything aside from looking out for my best interest; and I’m upset that I’m seemingly an isolate in the place I spend a lot of my time, but what I don’t care about, is what anyone thinks of my decisions.

For once in my college life, I’ve decided to make a choice which is completely selfish. I put my best interests first, and my own agenda at the head of the table, and now I’ve made other people unhappy, but at the end of the day, I’ve made myself happy.

Just today I was talking with some people I consider myself very close to, and I realized that not only do they agree with me, but these are the people I need in my life – the people who encourage me to do for me. (Yes, mom and dad, I know you two always do that, but aside from you guys!)

While I may be battling the up and down waves of emotional turmoil that is consequent of this whole ordeal, at the end of the day one thing reigns true: in the grand scheme of things, I’ll be happy.

Which is where my lesson comes in:

You can never throw yourself out on the basis of someone else; you should never put your own happiness after someone else’s. The reality is, at the end of the day, people are going to shock you—they’re going to change, and they’re either going to exceed your expectations, or let you down; but regardless, they have their own agendas and intentions, and you have yours. As long as you come out of it at the end happy, and a good person, that’s all that will matter.

What makes a good person? I’m not entirely sure about that one; that’s yet another conversation I’ve had recently. Are you a good person because other people think you are; or are you a good person because you know in your heart you are, and not because you fit in with the mold and conform to other people’s expectations, but because you fulfill your own?

Most of me believes that a good person is someone who dares to be different, while still standing true to sound morals and values; but then I ask, who determines what sound morals and values are?

I guess these questions are what started me on this new path of devoting time each day to myself; time to do something that isn’t school, career or commitment related. (Aside from the gym of course – by the way, 9 pounds lost since Jan 25 and I’m feeling so in shape and getting ready to run some serious road races this summer, dad!) Which is why I started reading again…

Before I got into the hustle and bustle of college life, I could read a book in a day. My mom joked that I was a true “book worm” because she could never keep up with my reading lists; and my dad always said “I won’t deprive her of reading, buy her the books.” I think I forgot what it was like recently to do something to calm me down, and all of this talk of finding my own happiness started me thinking of it again. Yesterday, I devoted a good deal of the odd time frames of free time (you know, the time after work but  before dinner where it’s too short to do work but too long to stare at Facebook) reading. I told you guys I was about to start on Crime and Punishment; well I did. So far, loving it.

I like the idea of a protagonist who wants to understand if people are inherently good, or whether or not there are separate rules for different groups of people. I also love that it makes me feel smarter as I read it.

At the end of the day, I suppose what I’m getting at with all of this verbal vomit is that even when things look like they can’t possibly get worse, they do; but that doesn’t matter, because as long as you keep your head up, and put yourself first, you’ll be fine. There’s nothing on the ground but your feet, right?

Lesson learned.

Could you put a price on your life; Why then price a cop’s life?

I’ve been wanting to share my thoughts about this for quite some time, but I’ve put it off – partially due to the fact that I’ve been knee deep in media literacy research for my thesis proposal, and also because the wound has been too fresh for me to dive into just yet. I worried my rant might come across as bitter and angry, instead of insightful, as I hope it does now…

I make no secret of the fact that I am the daughter of a police officer – not to potential boyfriends, friends, and certainly not my readers. While some may think that fact means I’ve grown up isolated, sheltered and restricted, I think it’s done the opposite – my parents taught me the value of trust growing up, and I always knew that as long as I had their trust, I could do whatever I wished. While I may not have been sheltered from the fact that there were tons of people out there who could kill me while I sat behind the wheel of the car learning to drive with my dad, I was absolutely sheltered from the fact that there are tons of people out there who could kill my father.

Just last week, my mom gave me a call and told me that my dad was pretty upset; he’d lost a friend and was taking it pretty hard. That friend: Michael Califano. My dad and Mike had started in the jail together 13 years ago, and both went on to become cops – Mike in Highway Patrol, my dad in the 4^th, and eventually, where he is now, ESU – what I affectionately refer to is “Long Island’s SWAT.” Unfortunately, Mike lost his life in the line of duty – he was pulling someone over, a normal routine, and was hit from behind by a passing car, a driver asleep behind the wheel. My dad had to respond to the scene of his friend’s unfortunate death. This got me thinking about the value of a life – something I’ve been thinking about since I started reading the propaganda Long Island news has been publishing about the amount of money police make.

While my comments are much further down, just days before this accident, I started arguing pretty viciously on a Newsday article about the salary of a cop. There are some folks on there who seem to think that police make too much money – be it their yearly wages, their pension, or their benefits. Apparently, going out and risking your life to serve others and keep us safe at night, isn’t worth health care, a good pension to provide for your family, and a salary high enough to keep your family warm and safe in your home. Apparently, the mere pennies that taxpayers pay towards the salaries of cops, is too much.

Mike has three young boys and a loving wife who now have to go on without him – without his love and without his constant support day in and day out. Not only did this get me thinking about how quickly I could lose my own father (God forbid) but also about how real the arguments I was making on that article were.

It seems the constant argument amongst people is to cut the police force: cut their numbers and cut their salary. In the wake of 9-11 people couldn’t talk enough good about how lucky our country is to have so many first responders, but now, it seems all people want to do is talk them down. So I asked the people commenting on that article if they’d be willing to put a price on their own lives, on a price of the safety of their children, on their own children’s lives.

When things get bad, people run and hide – police run into the storm. On 9/11, while most people sat beside their loved ones in fear and anguish, safe inside their homes, my dad spent days at Ground Zero, amidst crumbling buildings, just hoping to find the loved ones of those sitting at home on their couches. Years back, when there was a shooting in our church, and people were on lockdown and kept safe, it was the police who ran after the man with the loaded gun and took him down to keep us safe.

It is my opinion, and granted I’m a little biased, that you simply cannot put a price on safety, and you absolutely cannot put a price on a life.

I think that what people need to keep in mind is that, just like teachers, we need police. I know I wouldn’t strap on a bullet proof vest and run into a hostage situation to save a stranger’s life for any price, would you? Well my dad would, the police would—and they do. So to say that we need to cut the salary cops make makes me beyond angry. These men and women have undergone training beyond what you can imagine— my dad still goes to school for different things. So if it is acceptable for a lawyer to make 200K a year because a lawyer has gone through so much schooling, tell me what makes a cop so different? People seem to misunderstand just how much schooling, training, and skill set goes into becoming a cop. You or I may spend four or more years in college and depending on degree, get paid upwards.

However, a cop never stops going to school, and never stops training. After 20+ years on the job, cops are still going to school for new and threatening things. The difference is their training requires them to put on a mask and be exposed to things which can kill people, so they know how to defend us, to diffuse live bombs, to jump from buildings, and to run into the ruins.

The average salary of a college graduate is about 50 grand, and that college graduate could just sit behind a desk, and as someone set to graduate from college, never in my life could I consider that sitting behind a desk would be worth more than risking my life day in and day out.

Then of course, we have those who still argue that pay cuts are the solution if we can’t lower their salaries. As for a pay cut, I happen to be well aware of the monetary incentives police officers have given up in the past several years, but the difference is that they don’t receive the benefits you or I do in our own jobs. Would you take a pay cut if you were already giving up nights, weekends, holidays with your loved ones, and birthdays? You do know that the average life expectancy of a cop is between 53 and 58 years of age, right? My dad is in his mid-forties. Mike Califano was 44.

At the end of the day, more than ever, I understand that money and greed corrupts, and I whole heartedly believe the problem is just that: greed. People are jealous of what they don’t have, and all anyone sees in that article, and in all of the talk, is the 6-figure salary (which, by the way, majority of cops don’t make close to) and they rant. No one takes into consideration the cost of the job. And to that, I shake my head. I could not imagine that the family of any slain police officer sits and says, well, we got great benefits and the salary was decent. Could you? I know that if I lost my dad, no amount of money in the world could bring him back, and no amount of money in the world would be equal to what having him alive would be worth. Police make the money they make because they deserve it, and it’ s such a shame that people want to take that away from them.

It won’t stop, and I don’t believe this rant of mine will stop it, but I’ve said my peace, and I will continue to advocate for it anywhere I see fit – I’m the “future” of this country right?

20 things I learned in my 20th year.

5 days. I’ve been counting down for this since I turned 18. Silly if you think about it, because after this day, I won’t ever countdown to another one again. In 5 short days I will finally turn the big twenty-one. On February 2^nd my mom will call me and ask if I’ve seen my shadow (and let’s face it, judging by the 20 inches of snow on the ground, I probably will) and despite the routine of that question, this year will be slightly different from the last.

Last year, I entered my 20s and left the teenage years behind (I kept the attitude) and this year, I’ll finally be able to sit at a baseball game with a beer (notice I said baseball game, because the idea of a bar doesn’t really excite me nearly as much as being able to have a beer while I watch the Yanks). When I was home for break, the countdown didn’t seem real because as I counted down to my birthday, I was simultaneously counting down to being back to the grind of school.

However, once I got back on campus I started to think about the past year of my life and how much I’ve changed and grown. As I learned about all of my semester’s assignments and exams, I took it differently than I have before (probably because nothing will top last semester’s stress, right?) and I realized that when my dad told me I wasn’t a “kid” anymore because I was losing the “teen” at the end of my age, he was right… and he was wrong.

How old would you be if you didn’t know how old you are? My answer to that question would change daily. Some days I’m a princess in front of a Disney movie, other days I’m a 90-year old woman dishing out advice, and most days, I’m just stuck between kid and adult, trying to figure out my way. Over the past year, as I’ve spent my days looking for the right direction, I’ve learned some things.

So here they are, the 20 most important things I’ve learned in my 20^th year:

 

1. To Thine Own Self, Be True: People are forever going to challenge you, disagree with you, and try to change you. At the end of the day though, you just have to be you.
2. If you get yourself too engrossed in things over which you have no control, it will adversely affect things over which you do have control: While John Wooden said this, not me, it doesn’t change the fact that I learned it. Complaining will never get you anywhere. Roll with life and do what you can – the rest will fall into place.
3. Embrace your inner child: Watch a Disney movie once in a while. Sleep with a teddy bear. Play a board game. It will keep you young, and keep you balanced.
4. Change is inevitable: I hate change. I’m a routine kinda gal. That doesn’t mean that change doesn’t exist. Embrace it.
5. If you catch yourself working hard and enjoying yourself, don’t stop: Passion is the key to happiness. It is my opinion that happiness brings success. That’s my goal in life; a mix of the three.
6. Don’t stop smiling: It makes even the worst days seem a little bit better.
7. Your friends will always understand and be there for you: if they don’t, they aren’t your friends. I’ll admit I’ve got quirks that aren’t easy to deal with (cough, sometimes I isolate) but it’s the friends who’ve taken the time to get me, and challenge me, that mean the most. The rest, you don’t need them.
8. Quit one thing, and it becomes habit: No matter how much you might want to, don’t quit because you think you can’t handle it; chances are you can, and you risk it becoming habit. This is exactly why I’m always so overextended; I always come out on top because of it.
9. The future shouldn’t be at the expense of the present: Focusing too much on what is far in advance doesn’t help the present.
10. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy: Simply stated, it’s okay to commit to lots of things you enjoy, but don’t forget to give yourself some time to do “nothing.” The nights I spent playing computer games with my suitemates, going out for adventures, or even just watching a pointless movie, are the times when I got the energy to push forward in anything academic and work related.
11. Appreciate what you have: Someone always has it worse. I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and my parents have worked harder to make sure I had the means to get here – some people aren’t as lucky. It’s important I remember that when I can’t afford my 150^th pair of shoes because I need shampoo.
12. The little things count: Some people think life is defined by the big moments; those people are wrong. Many of my favorite memories are accidental moments, completely unplanned, and blissful all the same.  Learning to take time to do the things that I enjoy, sometimes at the expense of the things people say I should be doing, has been a huge lesson in the past year. Last semester especially, I learned to take time out to watch a movie or a TV show with my suitemates was better than cramming in more work during a hectic week.
13. Your family is with you forever: Love them or hate them, they’re yours and they’re the only ones guaranteed to be with you in the long-run. My siblings and I couldn’t be more opposite, but at the end of the day, even the friends I’ve thought I’m most similar to sometimes don’t last forever – family does.
14. Sometimes, you have to make more of an effort: With friends, with school, with life. I’ve learned to battle against my own stubbornness and accept that I’m not always the victim and I could use improvement with some things, too.
15. Planners are a god send: I think that if someone were to take my planner as a joke, I’d seriously cry. Seriously, it’s just pages filled with my life, and when you’re as busy as I am, you need it.
16. Dream big, start local: This summer, instead of interning for a big media company as I’d hoped, I interned with my local newspaper. I left with by-lines, an insane experience in the newsroom as a reporter, and an offer to sign on as a free-lancer.
17. Perspective changes everything: Everything that happens in life is good or bad; it all depends on how you look at it. Experience is a brutal teacher, but thinking of the “bad” that way makes it hurt less.
18. Stop and smell the roses: Everything you do means nothing if you don’t stop and enjoy it. To be cliché and quote Ferris Bueller, Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.
19. Don’t sweat the small stuff: Simply stated, avoid the drama. Stay quiet when it surfaces so you don’t get caught up in it, and always remember, silence can be golden. At the end of the day, if you waste too much time and energy on the little things, what will you do when faced with something big?
20. Say no to parent drama: I thought it was backwards when I learned in Interpersonal Communication that parents and kids tend to fight more as the kids enter their 20s. I figured there was no way I’d fight with my mom since we were so close through my teens – when I was also supposed to hate her – then I spent a summer at home. I can’t remember a single day we didn’t fight last summer. Then I realized one thing: she’s not going to change, and I’m becoming more and more like her every day (hence the fights and stubborn disagreements). It’s not worth it to fight with a parent; assume they’re right and you’re wrong – 9 times out of 10, that’s the case. Plus, when you think about it, having them there for you and loving you unconditionally means a hell of a lot more than a little disagreement.