Archive for the ‘hope’ Category

Day 53: The moment of truth

5e2ad5283e968e3d32e7ff342cac848c.jpgHappy Gobble Gobble Day everyone.

I hope you have stayed thankful today. I have. I’m thankful I worked my brains out for over a week to get to this day and not be as worried about the food. I’m sitting here at the family’s house now, just pondering all that dressing. That’s the best part. Mom’s dressing. And I’m sore as hell all over from overdoing the routine so I can avoid the guilt of stuffing my face — so to speak.

I brought a little something too. Sweet Potato Thangs. Out here the lady who makes them also made a life-sized bride cake. We did a story on her and her family, both are absolutely delightful. And so are these “thangs,” which by the way I’m about to gobble on as soon as I’m done here. Come Day 54, trust and believe I’ll be hitting the gym before other day-off festivities begin. Namely the birthday celebration I’m concocting for one of my friends which can only mean more calories — only this time calories brought on by martinis.

I hope you are all having a pleasant day of merriment and that you won’t overdo it like I plan hope not to do.

Day 50: Perfectly healthy fatty

exercise-magnet-c11754656.jpgI got the results of my physical today. I will admit that I kind of wanted the doctor to tell me I had a slow thyroid or something. Not because I get off on the idea of being sick. And I know thyroid disorders are no walk in the park. My mother has a very poor thyroid and because she has other ailments, all of the pills she takes keep her pretty much severely overweight. I try every day to avoid such a fate. The only reason I wanted to have something wrong was because I would be able to hang my hat on that as a reason I am thick gal. And not just genetics. I was ready for the doctor to tell me there was a problem, get on the meds to “fix” it, combine it all with my eating and fitness habits and just watch the pounds drop like the bad baggage I never wanted — like this girl a work’s friend did. I know that’s silly. Why would I wish for an illness anyway? Really stupid.

Well turns out I have a completely clean bill of health. Cholesterol, blood sugar, thyroid, blood pressure — every damn thing under the sun checks out to be good. Better than good. Pretty much perfect. I should be elated. I am I guess. But as you know I’m kind of impatient and I’m really trying to achieve a better body. I’ve even started walking to the store which is what I did on Day 48. I walked to the store and then went to the gym to work out for another 45 minutes. Today I walked to the doctor and worked out for another hour.

My doctor prescribed an appetite suppressant for me and did so kind of reluctantly. She said I was a pretty girl, healthy and young. She told me it wasn’t too late to get on the right path. She kind of felt like I was too hard on myself. I think she is right. But I have to be hard on myself because it’s pushing me to do this — and finally the right way and make it stick. However I should lay off a bit. There are plenty of people in the world just waiting to give me a hard time without me doing it. And giving me bad advice. Case in point: The Central Market “nutrition” lady. She was the chick who told me to get on coconut oil. My doctor is from India (I think!) and said that a particular region in India that uses a lot of coconut oil in their cooking have cholesterol and heart problems! She said coconut oil is full of saturated fat — the kind that clogs your arteries and told me to stop taking it. Now how’s that for a close one? I’ve been taking those damn pills for more than two weeks!!!

I’m keeping my spirits up though. Many of you have been very encouraging as well. But let me tell you a quick story. Or more like set up a scenario for you: Say you are walking to lunch behind several coworkers quite smaller than you and without really meaning to, you start staring at the fact that freakishly none of them have thighs that touch a single moment while walking. Shit. What does that feel like?

Uh oh. I’m shaping young minds!

Yesterday was very serial. So much so that I forwent writing about the city council here or Ellen’s stupid crying about a dog (topics I planned to write about today.) I woke up this morning still thinking about it so I decided to write.

I was asked to speak to a high school in the community I cover. I always get nervous when I’m asked to do these things. Because today’s teens are definitely not yesterday’s teens — they know so much more and don’t tolerate the same things we used to. I also get a little nervous because being that I’m still fumbling along in this industry, even though in a much better role now, so I just can’t help wondering how in the world am I supposed to shape young minds about journalism when I’m still trucking along myself. I’m not a shy person as I’m sure you have guessed but knowing these two things when I’m in front of a classroom gives me the shakes.

Also they had to take notes. So the moment I started talking — I stopped. Then laughed that they had to take notes. Good start so far. Everyone laughed right along. I told of my triumphs and many tribulations — as I believe the teacher had wanted me to. I even revealed that I was a cocktail waitress for a time while freelancing. I gave them the goods. And man the questions they asked! Even the teacher. I tap-danced through some of them because they were along the lines of “what will happen to journalism’s integrity.” Hum…I wanted to have our official bigwig next to me for some of those questions, but I managed and heads nodded and notes were written. As I gave many of my answers I kept thinking, “Is that me saying this?” because they weren’t exactly bad or ridiculously misguided. I think I did alright and a lot of the girls said they liked my outfit, which was the most important thing for me to get right before walking in the room. You know how teen girls can be about fashion!

It just didn’t seem that long ago that I was in their place, sitting there listening to a guest speaker. Very serial and it struck a cord in my heart because I envied them so much. Just to be in that school desk, knowing what I know now would be a gift. I even told them so. I warned them of everything in this industry and the plus of the whole “high” of it. I warned them to take all the classes I didn’t — video editing, page building. I pushed them on internships and the importance of knowing what you have a passion for over the money it can bring. And they seemed entertained and hopefully left with their heads no longer in clouds about how quickly they will be in a significant role in their future careers.

Once upon a very long time ago, I wanted to be a teacher. But as things pushed along (a broken engagement and some hard-knock lessons learned) I wandered down to the basement of my college and filled out the application to be a reporter for the school paper. Addicted ever since except the small moments in which I’m in a classroom. This will sound very sappy so I warn you, but somehow being in that room with bright, eager faces ready to learn, I wonder what I may have missed not being teacher and what kind of one I would have been.

A note to the angry bloggers

Guilty as charged…I know how you feel. I’ve been one too. Actually, I’m often one. But this is a quick note to remind everyone that just because you are angry, doesn’t mean you can have an excuse to not make sense or not find a creative way to bash someone. I’ve read so many (many, many) blogs — not just WordPress either, that just vent without reason, thought or just plain filled the reader with unanalyzed venom.  I’d like to say regular readers of this blog aren’t guilty of such, but I’m a random blog reader and this theme has been an annoying trend. Well, call this a post-PMS rant if you wish, but I’m tired of reading those type of blogs. And I’m a true believer that if you want to be cruel, pointed or accusatory — do it with some finesse and flow. That’s all. I’m drunk…Now that’s poignant.

A noose at Columbia?!

Jena. Yes at Jena. There is no excuse for it, but that is the South. I live in the South. I know the South.

Call me an idealist, but New York has always represented a sense of freedom, beauty, opportunity and open-mindedness to me. Am I wrong? Yet another noose. Yet ANOTHER ONE at Columbia University of all places. A very distraught Madonna Constantine, the black professor who found the noose on her door, was on Good Morning America this morning–talking to Robin Roberts (my idol), which is ironic because the fact that we see black journalists everyday should show we are in another world compared to what the 50s had to offer. Anyway, the professor said one of the main things she felt was embarrassed though she said she had nothing to be embarrassed about. I’m embarrassed too.

You all know that I hate the race card. And that I don’t like to go on and on about “the black plight.” But this HAS to stop. Why is the world so hateful? I’m continuing my lose of faith in people. And this resurgence of “the noose” is childish at best, dangerous to our country’s progression at worse. I have been pretty lucky because I can’t think of a major incident in my life where I was the victim of racism. To be honest my racism had mostly been by other blacks telling me I wasn’t black enough. Very different problem. My parents however were old enough to experience racism while living in Lubbock, Texas. My mother and her siblings went for ice cream only to discover their vanilla scoops were in fact Crisco. Both of my parents also remember the segregation, the separate water fountains.

I feel so very blessed (I say blessed…even as an agnostic). I’m blessed because I know that the opportunities and the life I have today is a direct result of people who fought for what I have. But I’m fearing that we are going backwards. Not just with something like a fool hanging a noose but this is going to create more of those “movements” I despise. I don’t want to see a 1960s-like movement everytime such actions like this one are taken. I think we can solve this without a march. I think if we just EDUCATE. Show the face of racism and humiliate it. I want to see everyone banded together and speaking out in the community. Marches just get written off as “oh, there THEY go again.” But if you take actions to educate, whether that is in school or town hall meetings, maybe something can be done? But then again, maybe I’m being an idealist like I said before. And because I’m just starting and continuing to feel quite disappointed in people, I might just join a march if there is one to be a part of. I’m tired. I’m just so tired of it.

Is 30 the new adolescence?

As I’m sitting here typing this, I am on somewhat of a “vacation.” I decided to take another day off after Labor Day but most of what I’ve done today has been work related, splash in a little wine, playing with the cat and a lot of blogging. I don’t know why I’ve felt like musing so much these past few days but one thing came to mind. I feel like I’m going through the first stages of a new self-discovery. I will spare you any flowery inspirational quotes and strange optimistim — I’m fresh out.

The way I see it I’ve had at least two major phases of my life. The first being the one we all go through — adolescence. The second for me in my early and mid 20s was quite explorative. I’ll leave it at that but I will say there were a few trips to Cancun involved, two “engagements” and an interesting stint as a cocktail waitress. Not necessarily in that order.

Now as I’m fumbling towards 30 years old, I can say I’ve recently had an overt amount of growth and loss to go along with it. Friends have faded or have been neglected for all the right reasons and some cut ties with much fervor. More resposibilities are in my lap and my time is not always my own. I found that I have become increasingly opposite of who I was even last year. But what is funny about all this is that it feels like how it did that first day of high school. All the jitters. All of the excitement. And a lot of headaches. Trying to find where you fit and who you fit with — yea, that sounds about right. Then deciding it didn’t matter afterall. Learning new things about yourself, new interests and the things that make you happy. That was adolescence and it’s me now.

So what does it all add up to? Is it just stinted growth or is 30 like embracing your early teens. Is it like when you first got your damned period. When your jewels finally dropped. When you first noticed hair — down there. Is this all a new beginning? Or is it just the wine?

Glass envy — like penis envy but costs more

For those who may not know, another word for lens gear for your camera is glass. Recently I have had a real jones for some new hot glass.

I think as like any photographer, I am always wanting more gear — especially when I stand next to another photographer from a newspaper or even hobbiests and his/her glass is bigger and better than mine. That long, black cylinder of pictorial goodness just hanging there around their necks — mocking me as I stand with my little 50 mm prime! (A good lens to have by the way — no matter what.) Even when I snap on the 200 mm, I stand next to the guy who has a great macro (or micro)  and I’m salivating. I just want to touch it. Hold it. Snap it on…

I’ve been having all kinds of daydreams about the Micro-Nikkor AF-S 105mm f/2.8G IF-ED VR. I’ve even played with it once and fell in love. I could tell, it loved me too. We had a moment.

What really stinks is how much this love costs. A great, spectacular lens can be well into the thousands. Geez, the Nikkor I mentioned earlier is even the cheaper of many better lenses.

In my favorite photog forum I like to travel to, they at least admit it isn’t all your “eye” when it comes to the nice money shots. Sure you have to know the basics of composition, what will be an awesome pic and some kind of artistic edge. But really, all of that can just be soooo much better with the right piece o’ glass.