You are currently browsing the monthly archive for June 2008.
So, here in good ‘ol Nevada there is such a thing as legal prostitution. So interesting a group of my classmates went out to check ‘em out, and, I must admit, it all has me a little curious as well. I wonder, do they look anything like that old Dolly Parton movie, “The Best Little Whore House in Texas“?
At any rate, yesterday while working at the Reno Gazette-Journal, they ran a story on brothels and how the economy is even hurting them. I’m sad I missed out on all the fun to be had with that story during the budget meeting. But at least I got to have a little fun with it with one of my Link co-workers on Facebook.
… and through your nose and all in your lungs.
This morning I left my apartment to walk to class in a sunny haze. The air quality was rated unhealthy, yet I felt unthreatened by the translucent sky.
Walking to the parking lot after class, I found myself a little winded.
And stepping outside of the Indian restaurant after dinner, my breath was taken away. This evening, the air was thick with smoke. Even downtown Reno, with all of its casino lights, was lost from the freeway. Everything, including my skin, outdoors smells of campfire. I kept joking that I’d wake up Thursday and be a toasted marshmallow.
Yet the wildfires are miles and miles away. I can only imagine what it’s like for the people whose homes are in danger. As bad as it feels outside, I’m surprised we’re not in more danger.
“Why” could have been the buzz word of the week. Sitting in class earlier last week, I could feel it grow wings and flutter throughout the regions of my brain.
“Why?” was the question asked over and over by one of our professors as she kept needling one of my classmates to get to the bottom of a situation she was having at work.
“Why” has been wondered by all of us as we watch the cafeteria here at the University of Nevada fill up with athletes and referees at lunch and dinner. Seriously, why are there so many referees here?
In one class session, each of us was instructed to ask why each time we edit a story for our newspapers. As an exercise, we were given an article to edit on a survey done by the CDC that found troubling trends in the behavior of Hispanic teenagers. While each one of us took our time (well, more like we were given fifteen minutes to work on this) making sure sentences were structured properly and everything adhered to AP style, we forgot to focus on the big picture. As we gingerly crafted our headlines, we neglected to ask one of the important questions: Why were these troubling trends occurring?
Too often in our haste to churn out news stories and make deadlines, we has journalists these days tend to miss the big picture questions and ask why. There are amazing stories out there to be told and countless injustices to unearth. But we don’t always dig far enough beneath the surface to find them.
That’s why I went into this business. I, perhaps naively, thought I could make a difference in this world doing my job. Yet too many days I tend to return to my empty apartment feeling a bit unfulfilled. Why?
We’ve been advised to think about things like this, too, while participating in this program. Why are we in the positions we’re in? Why aren’t we having the impact we want to have in the industry?
My mind continues to drown in the swarm of why. I keep getting e-mails and phone calls from people wanting to know what I’ve been learning during my time at the Maynard Institute. My possible responses are so overwhelming, I often just respond by telling them I’m just learning too much.
There’s just too much to compute all at once. In addition to all of the grammar and practical editing skills I’ve been acquiring and honing, I’ve also been stocking up on the life lessons.
I’ve learned that there are even more amazing people out in this world than I knew before. I’ve been fascinated (and often amused) by so many of my classmates’ life stories. In just two weeks, I felt my world grow larger and my support system grow stronger. While many of our stories and backgrounds are different, so many of our situations are similar.
The professionals that have come in to work with us so far have been exceptional. Sitting back in amazement of their accomplishments, I often wonder will I ever acquire what it takes to be as good at what I do as they are. Will I ever have their talent and expertise?
Why am I here in Reno at this time in my life? I’ve been keeping a personal journal hoping that at the end of this editing program it will all be so much clearer to me. And who, I ask myself, will I become?
Apparently Sunday, about twenty tremors rumbled through Reno, shaking high-rises right and left. Yet, I didn’t feel them.
“Are you kidding?” Addie, one of our instructors asked us in class. She said she felt one of the quakes while she was dining at a Hawaiian restaurant not far from where we were. Then two minutes later another shook the place. Yet none of us felt a thing.
Maybe it was drowned out by all of the mimosas in our systems. Six of us went to the brunch buffet at the Atlantis Sunday morning. The food was plentiful and palatable, but the mimosas were bottomless and delish. I’m not quite sure how many I had; my glass was rarely empty long enough for me to count.
Following brunch, after I’d eaten and drank enough to feel like a small child was all snuggled up in my belly, a few of us hit the black jack tables. During this time, Reno was probably still being jolted my earthquakes, yet I continued to feel nothing but fullness and a warm champagne buzz.
Plus, I was concentrating, taking it all in—the tacky color schemes, busy carpet patterns, flashing lights and arcadelike sounds from the slot machines. And the people. There were so many different kinds of people walking around this place, each one with a unique story, I’d bet. It all made me think of a short film I wrote (I need to start working on again).
And I intently watched the game. While a big part of me wanted to be curled up in my bed back at the apartment, another part of me was feeling the peer pressure to blow some money. When in Reno, I suppose.
So I gambled a bit and won a bit more than I thought possible (the few times I’ve been to a casino, I’ve lost everything). Two dollars and some change came from black jack table and $9 was won at penny slots (and I played only a dollar).
While I never felt the earth move under my feet, I do believe the tables were turned in my favor. And things will only be shaken up more in the next five weeks. I can feel that.
What do I usually do on Saturdays? I couldn’t quite seem to remember today. Some weekends, I’ve been lucky to have company. When Charity came we went to the movies and just gabbed away as friends do. When Steve and his sister came we spent the day walking around town and exploring. When my mom came we went to the movies and just hung out. And when Sean came we walked the beach for hours and had one of the best dinners I’ve had in Virginia Beach (at the Lynnhaven Fish House).
But on most Saturdays, I can’t seem to figure out what I do exactly. I sleep in and catch up on phone calls, writing, cleaning, and reading. My Saturdays, as well as most of my days off from work, are pretty lonely hours spent doing anything to keep me busy.
So to be in Nevada surrounded by eight other people who share my work hours and many common interests, I am living the life. My life, I’ve realized in just the short week I’ve been here, has to change. By nature, I am an introvert, but I am also a very social being. Yet back “home” at the Beach, I find myself spending the majority of life alone.
And so today I was looking forward to spending the day touring Reno and visiting Lake Tahoe. Unfortunately, the bus our instructors attempted to rent broke down. And so, we will have to try for our tour again next weekend.
So today, instead, my peers and I spent the day randomly wasting time. Mind you there were a million things we could have been doing and probably needed to do, but instead we did none of them.
We started the morning off shopping at Kohl’s and Target. As silly as it sounds and as often as I do these same things on my own, it was so much fun doing them with six other women.
Then a few of us went to the cutest little restaurant, where we indeed met Virginia. She was our waitress who called each one of us dear and sweetie and steered Michelle, one of my roommates, away from ordering the meatloaf sandwich. Yet she highly recommended the California burger and the Gobbler (turkey sandwich on toast with tomato, mayo, avocado, and cranberry sauce), which I had. The menus were printed as newspapers, and each one of us, being the journalists we are, took them home as souvenirs.
After lunch, we headed back to the apartment, where Michelle, YaVonda, and I cleaned, gabbed, and did just about everything to kill time (we even just sat around staring at each other for a few).
Michelle showed us pictures from Amarillo (where she’s from) and Austin (I’m surrounded by Texans). And as we looked at the photos, I fell in love with Flat Stan. As Michelle told us the story told to her by her nephew, Flat Stan is a children’s book character who once was a real boy. But Stan was flattened when a billboard fell on him. And so Stan became very helpful to other because he could get to places others couldn’t. For example, if his mother locked her keys in the house, Stan could slide through the door crack and fetch them. Being flat, Stan did a lot of good deeds. Michelle’s nephew’s teacher decided that Stan needed a vacation. So, she had the children send Stan to different people they knew who lived different places. Michelle took Stan on adventures in Texas with she and her boyfriend and cousin.
This little story is so adorable. And the pictures left my roommates and I laughing for most of the rest of the day. Today, Stan was indeed the man!
