Corporate journalism is hindering my passion

“For the first time, I was bored by what I was interested in.”
– “The Lazy Tourist,” Geoff Dyer

Writing is a powerful tool to create connection amongst people. It gives me the ability to communicate thoughts, confusions, victories and disagreements in a way that might make others feel less alone. Recently, however, my passion and desire to share my voice has been almost non-existent.

I’m slowly realizing the reasons this is occurring and how they are connected.

In one of my journalism classes, we’ve been discussing the idea of advertisement sales driving content generation. Whether that be an article specifically made for selling a product (see: “Going the Distance” paid post by Cartier on The New York Times website) or an app being catered to the possibility of ad sales (ex: a travel app that features luggage companies, hotels, outdoor wear stores, etc.). If the content isn’t backed by a company, or concerned with revenue, it won’t be produced.

I brought up my concern and uneasiness with this mindset and, “Well, do you pay for your content?” was thrown back in my face. I stuttered and realized besides a few select magazine subscriptions, no, I usually do not pay for my content. I was told that if I wanted to get meaningful articles, I needed to pay for it.

I am trying to get a journalism job after college, in which I hope to make a decent salary to support myself. This means I expect my company to pay me somehow, but then where do they get the money?

Okay…so what the fuck is going on in the journalism industry?

I realized in that moment, in the field of study I was most excited about, I was facing a business I didn’t want anything to do with.

There are exceptions to this statement, including publications such as Bitch, a nonprofit feminist magazine located in Portland, OR who receives money from donations, subscriptions and sponsorships (where “the corporate sponsor receives an acknowledgement for the sponsorship, rather than any promotion of its services or products.”) Another organization that stands firm in their mission while still accepting advertisers is Mother Jones, a nonprofit news source focusing on socially aware topics including politics, climate change and education. On their “Advertising Policy” page, Mother Jones states, “[W]e reserve the right to investigate and write critically about any issue, individual, or company.” Meaning although they accept advertisers, they are committed first and foremost to create significant “public interest journalism.” These type of journalistic sources should be the majority.

Over the past couple of years, my social awareness has greatly increased, and I realize many people don’t talk about what I view as important: social justice, climate change, government corruption, global issues, etc. And don’t get me wrong, I also like articles about the newest vegetarian food craze or the top 10 cheap boot selections for fall, but fuck, when I realize those are the majority, I don’t want to contribute to that consumer driven industry.

For me, writing content that isn’t bringing attention to something of importance, and doesn’t lead to discussion, seems like an abuse of my privilege. If I want to contribute to journalism in a productive way, then I need to seriously contemplate how I’ll use my words as a tool for change and social awareness as I move forward.

Although I am not fully certain where I’ll go from here, I do know that these realizations are the first step in making a change. I challenge my friends, family, colleagues and community to engage in meaningful discussions that propel important issues forward. Let’s change the dialogue from money to mindfulness.

What it means to be in an expiration date relationship

The interesting thing about living in the 21st Century is the ability to literally Google anything and come up with at least one article relating to whatever it is you desire to read about. Trying to decide what National Park to visit this summer? Google it. Confused on whether to use affect or effect? Google it. Wondering why you’re craving pickles at two in the morning? Google it. So in reality, it really shouldn’t have surprised me to come up with a few hits when I typed in “how to deal with a relationship with an expiration date.”

For those of you that are unfamiliar with this idea, I’ll try to give you a quick summary. A relationship with an expiration is essentially what it sounds like. Two people who are lovers/dating/together who actively know there is an end date to what they have. From my experiences, and from what I’ve read, it seems that moving is the most common reason for these situations to arise.

Well what about long dis- I’m going to stop you right there. We’ll get back to this question at the end.

First off, I read a lot about the “two main options” when someone gets into a situation like this. The first is to immediately cut off contact from that person to “make it easier when the time comes” or continue the relationship until the very end. I’ve tried both options. Both have pros and cons. But in the end, they both suck horribly. However, at least in my most recent experience, the latter seemed to make the most sense, even now after the inevitable has happened.

I’ll give you a short backstory as to how my most recent expiration date relationship came to fruition. I met said partner on a dating app (yes, yes, how millennial of me), we hit it off pretty quickly, sometime within the first month we agreed to not see other people, we went about our lives, grew fond of each other, and towards the beginning of our second month together the bomb was dropped: he was moving to another state in three weeks.

Thus presented the diverging road. Shall I take the path less traveled? Shall I take the one that I had already experienced? With a couple of years since the first expiration date relationship and a more YOLO mentality, I decided to literally be with my partner until the day they left the city.

So do you regret it?

Nope. No. Nu-uh. Not even a little bit.

The last three weeks with them were some of the most painful, passionate and overall overwhelming weeks of any relationship I’ve had and yet I can’t help but pat myself on the back for going through with it until the very end. I’ve never been (and honestly am still not) someone who can live in the moment. The past and future are always clouding my thoughts, and I struggle to focus on the now. But I was forced to live day by day during my last few weeks with them. Who knew you could enjoy going to get the oil changed in the car so much? Or stopping into the local grocery store for celery and trash bags? That quick car ride? Yeah, that’s even special. It’s as if the doctor came into the room and told you and your partner your relationship had three weeks to live. Things get pretty intense after that.

In one of the articles I read about expiration date relationships it ended with the writer lamenting over the fact they decided to stick it out until the very end because it felt worse than the type of breakup in which both parties are angry, distraught and never want to see each other again. In some ways, yes, I can understand where the writer is coming from. Knowing the person you love is on another coast, still with feelings towards you is hard because IS IT LITERALLY ONLY STUPID DISTANCE THAT IS KEEPING US APART?! Yes. It is only stupid distance.

However, stupid distance can create long distance relationships that, although possible to maintain, usually end in jealousy, despair and a breakup via phone which is a hell of a lot worse than getting to hug and kiss your lover goodbye one last time before your time together is over. There is something oddly comforting knowing the last moments of your relationship were full of overwhelming sadness. I say this because it’s only sad due to the fact the feelings never disappeared and when you say goodbye the relationship is gone but the respect and adoration is still fully present.

Relationships are hard. Life is hard. Even as a naive and young woman, I am (mostly) aware that I’m bound to have another one of these situations presented to me in my coming years. But even with all that being said, it is so worth it to stay with your partner, even if you know there is an expiration date. Love is a weird, cool, scary thing that shouldn’t be pushed away out of fear. Just love the person while you can and who knows, maybe they’ll be that one person you meet up with after five years and realize “OH THIS IS OUR TIIIIIIIIIME.” And even if they’re not, that one oil change was pretty damn special.

A Note on Growth

It has come to my attention recently that the growth of people is bothersome to many.

What do I mean? Well, let me try to use myself as an example.

Since coming to college, I have ebbed and flowed in and out of friend groups, interests and personal commitments. The me that walked onto the university campus is not the one who is walking around today and most certainly won’t be the one who leaves here next spring.

Ever since childhood I’ve struggled with the consuming desire for people to love and accept me. Which, although true for many, was something that obviously put a strain on many friendships and experiences throughout my life.

This started out with simple things: looking sad during reading time in order to have the teacher come over and give me attention.

Then moved onto bigger things: forcing myself into the role of the clumsy girl in order to have my fellow classmates stop paying attention to my best friend, even if only momentarily.

And as I aged, it got less obvious and more deceptive.

It’s actually quite hard to finally write this out because it’s been something I’ve always pretended hadn’t happened. But it did.

Now, as an almost 21-year-old, I feel as I’m finally on a path that cares less about the attention of others and more about the attention I give myself.

Don’t get me wrong, I still have my bad habits and tendencies that present themselves in order to push the spotlight onto me but for the most part, I’ve grown.

And this is why it both hurts and confuses me as to why others seem to look down upon my personal growth.

My growth may present itself in odd ways in the eyes of others.

I shaved my head, changed my style, explored my physical boundaries, moved away from my parent’s beliefs, fell in and out of spirituality, changed my major, expanded my social group and much more.

For some, I have become a shell of my old, long-haired self. The one who was prom queen. The one people adored for her silly demeanor. The one who had no sense of the world. The one who was problematic and unaware of her actions.

“I miss your long hair.”
“Why are you wearing that nose ring?”
“Why did you post that?”
“Do you remember how you used to….”

Well I’m tired of it.

If you could love and appreciate me during a time when I was less genuine and more afraid to be myself then you should be ecstatic for me now. I am at a point in my life where I do things for me. I am at a point in which I feel free and happy and at peace.

So please, before you try to stunt my growth, maybe you should check your own.

 

The first of many

There was a girl who said goodbye to someone who is dear to her this weekend.

They laughed to block out the welling deep in their chests, shared kind words, listened to their favorite song, hugged, and departed, only to each look back only once.

There was a girl who hopped on the BART train back home filled with a happy sort of sadness.

Watching the scenery of such an unknown yet already familiar place rush by in yellows and tans and colors that reflect California on a grey Sunday.

There was a girl who walked home; bag full of a weekend worth of dirty clothes, curious departures, and undetermined separation; glancing only at the shops that were boarded and long forgotten.

With a deep hope in her person that this summer would not be too easily covered with plywood and darkened windows.

There was a girl who reached her bed and fell into a deeper sort of sadness as she wrapped herself in a lone blanket.

Wondering why she loves and hates the burn of people leaving too soon.

There was a girl who couldn’t stop pondering the impact of hellos because of the never-failing promise of goodbyes.

Realizing (once again) that she loves the potential in a first exchange of names far too much to ever truly despise the last exchange.

Did you read?

Did you see the man in the glasses?

Yeah, that’s how I sorta feel.

Now, I used to read…A LOT. You would never see me without a book. After I finished one, I would move full-force into the next and the next and the next.

This was a combination of the reading system growing up (having to read and take tests to rack up points to get a good grade) and also being raised by parents who were highly encouraging to read well.

Middle School came and I began to slow down a bit.

And then High School.

Something happened and books dropped out of my life besides what was assigned at school and the very occasional, very rare book for pleasure.

And honestly, I’ve been struggling ever since to get back my passion for turning page after page and getting lost in a world that is not my own.

It is quite apparent, especially now that I am currently surrounded by people who are constantly editing stories, flipping through competitors publications, and overall just absorbing as much material as possible, that I have no more excuses for my lack of reading.

Since I started at AFAR in June, I’ve learned about Mongolian horses, shoemaking in Mallorca, Adam Cullen, The Islamic Museum of Art, Nihonbashi, and a plethora of other random and yet fascinating things.

All from reading.

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I’ve been thinking a lot about the “list” I’ll learn to rattle off when someone asks me, “Well, what did you learn while you were there?”

And every day longer I spend here, the more I realize it’s gonna be a hell of a lot more complicated to explain than “Excel.”

Comforts

I love people.

Talking to people always has (and always will) make me thrive.

Thus comes my love for journalism, writing, and traveling.

But there’s a catch to it all. Once you start talking to people, you can become attached, and just as soon as you’ve really created a bond, you must depart.

This is part of the beauty and sadness that I’m starting to realize will most likely be how I live a good portion of my life.

Yesterday, I took the BART out to Danville, California to meet up with a new friend and one of his friends who is visiting from Idaho. I was excited to see where the night would take us.

We ended up grabbing burgers, browsing Amoeba records, sharing music suggestions, meeting up with some other of their friends, listening to records, and just having a nice time being with each other.

At the end of the night, I was laying in my friend’s bed and they were sitting on the edge. I giggled and started talking about how odd the feeling was.

There I was. With one person I hadn’t known a mere month ago, and another who I hadn’t known the previous day. In my pajamas. Completely comfortable. And those are the moments I love.

People are endlessly complex creatures, and I can’t help but want to continuously have that first comfortable moment again and again and again with so many people I haven’t yet met.

But of course, I also had the realization that soon, these two lovely humans would be out of my life for…who knows how long. And that’s a hard reality to wrap my brain around.

This constant pull of wanting comforts with new friends and wanting comforts with old friends is where I’ll be stuck.

At least for now.

Routine

I’m slowly finding myself getting into a routine.

Part of the travel mindset is the thrill of taking your routine and completely turning it upside-down.

With that comes the need to somewhat quickly adapt and explore your options for a new routine.

Now that I’ve been in San Fran for two weeks and my internship for one, I am able to observe small routines that I imagine will come together to make up the rest of my time here.

• Getting up at 7:45AM for days I need a shower (8:00AM when I don’t)
• Drink 1/3 of my water bottle
• Pick a Spotify playlist that fits my mood
• Open my blinds, sit on my bed, and put my makeup on
• Cut up a banana to put peanut butter on for breakfast at the office
• Grab a large, organic roast from La Boulange
• Greet the door man with a “good morning!” as he either grunts or says nothing
• Check my work and school email
• Grab lunch (preferably at a new place every day) between noon and one
• Drink (about) two water bottles throughout work leading to excessive pee breaks
• Make myself a cup of tea about two hours after lunch
• Leave anywhere from 4:30PM to 6:ooPM
• Jump into bed and scroll through all designated websites
• Eat dinner
• Watch an episode of some show (Orange is the New Black, Faking It, The Mindy Project, etc)
• Waste the rest of my night surfing the web, reading, and listening to music
• Go to bed around midnight

Repeat.

For the most part, this new, temporary routine has me quite content.

When I get lonely, I think about the beauty of adapting to a new city and it makes the quiet moments okay.

AND THEN WHAT?!

Yes, yes, I know I’ve been a bit absent…which was unfortunate after that last cliffhanger of a blogpost!

Apologies but it was out of my control. I had no Internet! I was using all of my cell phone data (sorry dad) to access the web.

But now that I have your undivided attention, let’s begin this hefty post.

Well, not to state the obvious or anything but I survived!

And although that might be a “duh” statement, the first day of a new internship (especially with a company you hope to someday work for) kinda feels like it could be the end of the world.

The future is literally always an unknown but without a task that you really need to go a certain way sometimes you forget that part of life.

The first two hours felt like the most awkward game of house I’ve ever experienced.

“I’ll be the adult!”

Thankfully those two hours were mostly just me quietly sitting at my very white, very Mac filled desk reading a binder full of information about my role as Editorial Intern.

Not too long after I closed the huge black binder, Jeremy (my kinda boss) asked for me to accompany himself and three other editors out to lunch.

Finally I was able to use my charm and conversation skills to feel like a relevant part of the office!

Jeremy paid as a “welcome to Afar” present, and we took or lunches to our rooftop garden to chat about myself and what I’d be doing for the next two months.

I left the rooftop with a belly full of kale, two looming assignments, and a growing sense of comfort.

Now, three work days later, I already can’t comprehend how much I’ve learned.

I’ve edited two stories, both of which I could confidently discuss with other editors

I’ve learned that the Tahki horses are holy to the Mongolian people.

I’ve contacted highly-skilled writers who are contributing to the upcoming issue for phone interviews in order to write short bios on them.

And, most importantly, I had one of those “moments.”

There I was, my first day was almost over and I was proofreading the “finished” pages of the August/September issue.

I paused on a page, realized what I was doing, and got the chills.

I’m literally looking at unpublished pages of my current favorite magazine.

And that, my friends, is what it’s all about.

Finally being able to answer the age old question, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

 

 

Looming

Yesterday was a rough one.

A day spent mostly in bed until around 3 PM when I had to audibly talk myself up and out of my pity party.

Sometimes I forget that I too am human and can be freaked out by new situations. I sometimes like to pretend that moving to a new, big city is nothing but sunshine and attractive people. In reality, it’s also lonely, confusing and hard to manage.

Today I talked to a dear friend who is currently in Spain and she told me she wasn’t doing the best but she’s in Madrid so she should be having the time of her life.

When she said it like that, it made me realize that just because everyone is “so jealous” and “wishes they could be there” doesn’t mean you can’t be so terrified of being inadequate that you lay in bed watching half a season of The Mindy Project.

After finally getting out of bed, I made my way to a nice burger shop where I was complimented on my headscarf and happily enjoyed a grilled chicken sandwich. After, I decided I needed some retail therapy because getting out of bed really was a big task.

Thankfully, Forever 21 was close by and I had a couple of leftover gift cards to use.

So how was today, you ask?

It was absolutely splendid, thanks for asking!

I woke up far too late for my own good and watched another episode of The Mindy Project whilst filling my belly with strawberries and an apple.

I then pulled on my (new) blue dress and headed back out into my new city.

Drip coffee from Contraband Coffee, a quick round of people watching in Union Square Park, a far-too-greasy grilled cheese from The Melt, a test of self control in a bookstore and a short walk-by of the office I’ll be heading to tomorrow.

Sometimes all it takes is a day of self-pity to get you right back up and into the world.

Tomorrow I’ll be starting my first day at AFAR Travel Magazine. The magazine that has me reading from cover to cover. The magazine that I told myself I’d do anything to intern with. The magazine I will be interning for starting tomorrow.

And no, I’m not currently tearing up while writing this because dreams do come true.

Don’t be silly.

Day 1-4

Hello there, friends.

Because I’ve already started off on a procrastinators time schedule, I’m sure that’ll be the normal way around here. I hope you don’t mind.

Let’s start from the beginning.

Day One

I arrived at the San Francisco airport with my father on Thursday, May 29th. Although I was exhausted from the three hours of sleep I had the night prior, I was ready to delve right in. We made our way to the city and headed directly to Dim Sum in the heard of Chinatown.

Now, I’ve gotten a lot better about trying foods at least once before I politely decline the next time I am offered but when my dad said, “No really, we have to try the chicken feet,” I reluctantly smiled/grimaced but decided to go for it.

They were spicy, gelatinous and definitely something I wouldn’t order ever again, unless I’m with someone who I’d want to watch slowly shove one into their mouth and awkwardly spit out various bones and ligaments in the most graceful way possible.

After filling up on tea and various dumplings, we headed out into Chinatown. And I immediately saw a florist who had a cart full of cacti outside of his shop. Now, I wouldn’t normally be inclined to buy a mini-cactus but my good friend has recently become obsessed with Botany, and I think it’s begun to rub off onto me.

With my new plant (more like weapon) in hand, we wandered the streets of Chinatown stopping only to ogle at the ridiculously low-priced produce in market after market. Soon, we jumped back into the car to check into our hotel.

We checked into the hotel and headed up to the seventh floor to our room where reality kicked in. As I opened the door and claimed my bed by the window, I saw something that woke me up. On a side table by a chair in the corner were three magazines. One which happened to be AFAR Travel Magazine.

“No way!”

It is one thing to pick it up in a Barnes & Noble in the middle of Waterloo, Iowa, but to pick it up in San Francisco a mere week away from stepping into the AFAR office…that’s surreal.

And just for the sake of making this far too long, I’ll summarize the rest of the day quickly. Lamb sausage pizza, Walgreens run for cold medicine, my first macaron, an early night to bed.

Day Two

I woke up with a sore throat and a looming reality that I would be moving into my place today. Even after 12 hours of sleep, I was sort of dreading getting out of the huge, comfortable hotel bed.

After finally managing to get up and look presentable, my father and I went to a small coffee shop where we both had espresso and small bite to eat to get us ready for a day full of shopping for essentials and moving me in.

When we finally arrived at my residence for the next two months, we were shown my new room which was pleasantly spacious and airy. Luckily, I don’t have a roommate as of right now and got to claim my area before anyone else could. I picked the bed near two big windows; I find beds close to the wall/windows comforting.

Shortly after going to buy me some snacks, my dad left to go back to Texas and left me to my new summer life.

Unfortunately, my sickness made it hard for me to find the motivation to immediately go out and explore. So first, I took a nap to restore some of my energy and then headed out for dinner and a bit of exploring.

It wasn’t much but the feeling of being completely control of myself and my actions began to set in as a wandered the streets. As my father would say to me the following day, it’s a mixture of excitement and being terrified and it’s really hard to explain.

And as I watched the sun set over my new city, I knew things were going to be exactly like that. Terrifying. Exciting. And terribly hard to explain.

Day Three and Four

I’ll combine the last two days into one for the sake of making this so long nobody will read it.

Basically until my internship starts on Wednesday, I’m devoting this time to eating and exploring (while also healing my throat).

So in short I’ve walked and walked and walked. These hills are killer and at this rate I’ll have the best legs I’ve ever had.

I’ve already begun to feel the loneliness set in, which is to be expected, but I don’t have any doubts that things will fall into place.

But even so, it’s hard to not want someone around to share a picnic in the park with you.

Until then, or maybe, until Wednesday, I’ll continue to explore this vast place without any concern of time or other people’s schedules.