November 25, 2003
Superior Pieces of Mandy
I love my dad, but he is not so good at taking hints. I observed that he was out cold, so I suggested that he stop fighting his instincts and just go ahead up to bed. He is still here.
Now for Washington D.C., for those who are curious. The actual trip was ok, not great but not bad. As is only natural, I got to know several of the people on the trip better. Some people I was extremely happy to get to know better; I learned they were genuinely nice people and interesting (Eric, Brandon, Mike, Danny, Meghann, and Heather come to mind). I learned that other people are quite irritating and self-centered, even moreso then yours truly, though some argue this can never happen.
Enough self-deprecation, though. I kicked ass in the Newswriting Write-Off and earned a superior rating. For the competition I sat in a room with 150 other kids or so while we all engaged in a "press conference" where we questioned a reporter for Stars and Stripes on her experience as a reporter in Iraq. During the question-answer session it became blatantly obvious that some people entered in the contest did not understand what news was. Everyone in the room was competing for newswriting, editorial writing, or news radio, but people were asking questions better suited for features like "What is it like to be a woman in Iraq", etc.
It was a great experience to compete because it was my first press conference and it was nice to prove to myself that I could handle the situation well. While I wrote down notes like mad, I struggled to find my angle until the very end. If I had discovered it sooner I could have written a better article, but que sera. I had enough time that I wrote about three drafts, which were mostly re-arrangements of paragraphs and many many rewrites of my lead. It was a slippery little sucker.
But yay! Superior!! I was ecstatic to stick that on my Syracuse application.
When I was not in competition I attended break-out sessions on writing memoirs (fantastic, it was led by E. Ethelbert Miller), the foreign press, being in journalism in general, interview skills, getting "up close and personal" for features, satires, and the writing life in general. I learned a lot that I will be able to instantly reply and I am more excited about embarking on a writing career than ever, even if it means starving from time to time. I am starting to understand the skills I will need and I am now privy to several of the past mistakes made by others. It was nice to hear that there is no reason to major in journalism because I will be more marketable with an area of expertise. Thank god journalism will not translate into the demise of my intellect; there have definitely been tougher days on the newspaper when I feared that would be the case and my heart is warmed by the intellectual exchanges that await me in the future.
Amusing ego-boost of the night: I was coming home from seeing Pieces of April when I noticed a guy in the car next to me eyeing me. I was sitting in the backseat when suddenly the guy started nodding his head and smiling at me and what not. I started laughing because it all seemed so absurd; Pat saw what was going on and the car was quickly filled with laughter. I smiled back at the guy, satisifed with some light amusement for my night.
Earlier in the day a guy I eat lunch with told me that if he had to make a porno with anyone, it would be me. Shooting starts on Saturday.
(The back story on that is he found out I was older than him and he thought it was hilarious to call me Mrs. etc. For our porno I am going to be a teacher that holds him after his class. I suggested we use yardsticks as props, it only seems natural)
I am in this odd transitional phase sooner than I thought it would be. I do not even have to wait a few years to realize all the mistakes I am making, but realizing them and preventing them is not easily done. Sometimes it is like watching myself in a movie: I can see what I am doing wrong but I am helpless to stop it.
In Washington D.C. I was left behind on the metro by accident by my group. A bunch of people came between us and I just missed the doors. I waved goodbye to the group and the looks on all of their faces were priceless; they obviously felt bad. At first part of me was angry because one of my main roles on the trip was making sure that everyone was accounted for and it frankly sucked that no one was really doing the same thing for me. I hopped on the next train, somewhat stewing. At the next stop, Chris came up next to me and assured me that it was not done on purpose (Brandon thought I thought it would be intentional and was bitching at the group for it), then told me that Andy had also stayed back. I was amazed that he had found me. At the next stop we met up with the rest of the group and the ongoing joke became "Is everyone here? Is Mandy here? Ok, we're good to go!"
Later Mike told me that if anyone had to be left behind he was glad it was me, because I was intelligent enough to know what to do. By the end of the trip I was extremely comfortable with the Metro system. I still love it, even though on our last night a guy was arrested down there and the cops filled the air with pepper spray trying to subdue him. Breathing through our noses helped but it also caused some extended random coughing later on in the evening.
One of the other highlights was meeting up with Carmen from CTD. I missed her much, still do, and it was nice to talk to someone equally obsessive about literary matters. It was hilarious; we both admitted that while we journal we wonder in the back of our minds what our biographers will do with our scribbling. I think it may be part of the drive necessary for success to just believe that biographers to analyze our fame will eventually be a part of our future.
Or we are just far too egotistical for our own good.
But for now, it is ok because I have been rated superior! It is embarassing to receive the praise from my peers, especially since no one else on our staff was as successful, but I am happy for the success (obviously). I have trouble being comfortable with praise beyond paper and medals and plaques. That whole human, verbal element just throws me off.
Love,
Mandy