So, as a reporter I very rarely take part in any publication of a "cause," but in light of the recent twister devastation that hit much of the American South, it's hard for me to let it just pass me by. The best way I know to help is to tell the story; what can I say, I'm a story teller at heart.
This disaster hit FAR too close to home. Tuscaloosa, Alabama is the town where my little sister goes to school. There is video on the web of a tornado hitting Bryant-Denny Stadium at the University of Alabama. After seeing that video, I realized that she lives in Ridgecrest South, a mere 3/4 mile away from the stadium.
This supercell thunderstorm spawned over 173 tornadoes in one night. Over 300 people in five states are dead, and at least three 'Bama students are dead. 87 people are dead in Tuscaloosa alone.
This is one of the deadliest storms in Southern history. This supercell is compared to a storm that hit back in the 1930s that killed 332 people. There are bodies still missing, which could make this storm even more deadly than the 1932 storm.
Finals at 'Bama were canceled and students were told to head home if they can. My parents and I are heading up there this weekend to pack my little sister's things up to bring her home. We'll stay for a few days to help wherever we can, knowing that we truly dodged a bullet.
Prayers are being ferociously sent to this part of the country and to all of those affected by this horrifying tragedy.
29 April 2011
27 April 2011
Life
The other day I got a text message from my mom:
This got me to thinking. Life has ups, downs, lefts and rights. Life has loops, twists, curves, tunnels and bridges. There's no denying that life is hard. As my little sister says "Life is a bitch because if it was a whore it'd be too easy." Ain't that the truth? I'll be the first to admit that life has its challenges, but I'll be damned if it's not worth every single struggle. Life has its way of teaching you exactly what it wanted to. Something my mom told me on a different occasion is that you need the downs to truly appreciate the ups. Without the sad we wouldn't know the happy.
Learning this wasn't easy to do. It took some failures; it took some pain; most of all it took some triumph. That sweet, sweet taste of self-pride. Knowing that someone saying "I'm proud of you" can't even hold a candle to the pride you feel in yourself is one of the greatest feelings you can ever feel.
Pride may be a sin, but it's a necessary one. We must take pride in the work we do. If my dad didn't take pride in his (what he calls) "grease-job landings," all the passengers would readily know it. Having the pride in his work shows in the work he does. The same holds true for a writer. If a writer doesn't take pride in their work then the reader can tell. You get writing that's unpleasant or hard to read. When a writer takes pride in their writing they will put their heart and soul into the work, and (as with the prideless writer) the reader can tell.
If life gets you in a funk, don't worry. It happens to the best of us. It happens to presidents; it happens to CEOs; it happens to poets; it happens to parents. There is no one who can avoid a funk once in a while. As bizarre as it sounds, enjoy your funk.
You'll come out on top in the end, but learn the lessons that you're meant to while you are at rock bottom.
"Life is great, ain't it?"
"Every second of it," I replied.
"Every damn one," she said.
This got me to thinking. Life has ups, downs, lefts and rights. Life has loops, twists, curves, tunnels and bridges. There's no denying that life is hard. As my little sister says "Life is a bitch because if it was a whore it'd be too easy." Ain't that the truth? I'll be the first to admit that life has its challenges, but I'll be damned if it's not worth every single struggle. Life has its way of teaching you exactly what it wanted to. Something my mom told me on a different occasion is that you need the downs to truly appreciate the ups. Without the sad we wouldn't know the happy.
Learning this wasn't easy to do. It took some failures; it took some pain; most of all it took some triumph. That sweet, sweet taste of self-pride. Knowing that someone saying "I'm proud of you" can't even hold a candle to the pride you feel in yourself is one of the greatest feelings you can ever feel.
Pride may be a sin, but it's a necessary one. We must take pride in the work we do. If my dad didn't take pride in his (what he calls) "grease-job landings," all the passengers would readily know it. Having the pride in his work shows in the work he does. The same holds true for a writer. If a writer doesn't take pride in their work then the reader can tell. You get writing that's unpleasant or hard to read. When a writer takes pride in their writing they will put their heart and soul into the work, and (as with the prideless writer) the reader can tell.
If life gets you in a funk, don't worry. It happens to the best of us. It happens to presidents; it happens to CEOs; it happens to poets; it happens to parents. There is no one who can avoid a funk once in a while. As bizarre as it sounds, enjoy your funk.
You'll come out on top in the end, but learn the lessons that you're meant to while you are at rock bottom.
02 April 2011
Award
Yesterday I received my first of (hopefully) many awards for my work. I was invited to the Society of Professional Journalists' Mark of Excellence award luncheon in Birmingham. This luncheon started the SPJ Region 3 conference. Of course, I went. I drove from Tallahassee to Tuscaloosa -- where my little sister goes to school. My mom, dad and grandmother were there visiting her. The four of us (everyone minus my sister) drove the next day to Birmingham for the luncheon. On our way there, I was thinking about this award and what it might mean... I knew I had received an award, but wasn't sure what place I got.
I found out that I got first place in the radio in-depth award reporting category. This means that I will continue onto the national competition. I have a hard time believing that my story received first place. I'm amazed and awestruck. I was proud of that work when I submitted, but I had no idea that it might actually win.
The piece was about the transfer of authority between two college presidents: one past, one present. Dr. Thomas Kent (TK) Wetherell retired and allowed Dr. Eric Barron to assume responsibility of FSU President. I interviewed both men and compiled bits and pieces of the interviews into one long (15 minutes long) piece for the radio.
This Mark of Excellence award has only deepened my passion for journalism. This is just affirmation that I'm actually GOOD at what I do. That's a good feeling. It only pushes me to do better work, find deeper meaning in stories and work harder.
I found out that I got first place in the radio in-depth award reporting category. This means that I will continue onto the national competition. I have a hard time believing that my story received first place. I'm amazed and awestruck. I was proud of that work when I submitted, but I had no idea that it might actually win.
The piece was about the transfer of authority between two college presidents: one past, one present. Dr. Thomas Kent (TK) Wetherell retired and allowed Dr. Eric Barron to assume responsibility of FSU President. I interviewed both men and compiled bits and pieces of the interviews into one long (15 minutes long) piece for the radio.
This Mark of Excellence award has only deepened my passion for journalism. This is just affirmation that I'm actually GOOD at what I do. That's a good feeling. It only pushes me to do better work, find deeper meaning in stories and work harder.
05 March 2011
Poetry
I knew poetry could be moving; I really did. I've never been an extreme fan of poetry. In fact, I rather disliked it back in high school. However, I know that there can be real meaning behind the words of a poem.
I may have just learned this first-hand from longhand. I decided I wanted to write -- copy, rather -- Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise" poem. It is, without question, my favorite poem of all time. It's much longer than most people realize. I got out an unlined piece of printer paper, took my pad of lined paper and set it underneath, and began to write.
The very first stanza, complete with 26 words, ties words together in a formula that produces extreme results. Without reading the rest of the poem, you still understand what is going on.
These next two stanzas compliment each other.
Skipping ahead a bit, we reach my favorite stanza in the entire poem.
Never before have I cried while I wrote something. It was not a sad cry -- no, not at all. It was more of crying because I thought of how powerful -- really powerful those words were. Those words, as they flowed out of my hand, hit me. Not like a high school bully punch, but like a freight train barreling down the tracks. As Maya herself says, words are things. They can get into your wallpaper, underneath your rugs and deep in your skin. Be careful the words you use, and make sure they're the words you mean to use.
I may have just learned this first-hand from longhand. I decided I wanted to write -- copy, rather -- Maya Angelou's "Still I Rise" poem. It is, without question, my favorite poem of all time. It's much longer than most people realize. I got out an unlined piece of printer paper, took my pad of lined paper and set it underneath, and began to write.
"You may write me down in history
with your bitter, twisted lies.
You may trod me in the very dirt,
but just like dust, I'll rise."
The very first stanza, complete with 26 words, ties words together in a formula that produces extreme results. Without reading the rest of the poem, you still understand what is going on.
"Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom,
just 'cause I walk as if I have oil wells
pumping in my living room?
Just like suns and like moons,
with the certainty of tides,
just like hope springing high,
still I'll rise."
These next two stanzas compliment each other.
Skipping ahead a bit, we reach my favorite stanza in the entire poem.
"You can shoot me with your words.
You can cut me with your lies.
You can kill me with your hatefulness,
but just like life, I'll rise!"
This stanza, to me, has some of the most powerful language in the entire poem. What it says, to me, is that no matter what you try to do to me, no matter how much you bring me down, no matter how cruel you can be, I'll still rise. I'll still be me and I'll still be the person I've always been and the person I'll always be.
As I was writing, I was learning. I could hear the words spoken in my own head. I had heard the words pass over my lips, through my teeth and over my tongue before, but never had I felt them through my hands and out of my fingertips. As I reached the following stanza (I'll underline the particular line), I began to tear up.
"Out of the huts of history's shame,
I rise.
Up from a past rooted in pain,
I rise.
A black ocean leaping and wide,
welling and swelling, I bear in the tide."
Never before have I cried while I wrote something. It was not a sad cry -- no, not at all. It was more of crying because I thought of how powerful -- really powerful those words were. Those words, as they flowed out of my hand, hit me. Not like a high school bully punch, but like a freight train barreling down the tracks. As Maya herself says, words are things. They can get into your wallpaper, underneath your rugs and deep in your skin. Be careful the words you use, and make sure they're the words you mean to use.
02 March 2011
View of Self
I talk a lot in Pingüi's Caja about this idea that the you should be the main point in your life. I say that no one can live your life but you. So now I'm curious. I know what I live MY life for; what do you live for?
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