Facing My Fears, One Class at a Time

So school has finally begun and this semester is shaping up to be quite intense, (but what else would you expect from a girl whose code name is Overachiever?) Take having a beat to cover, a clip requirement to meet, foreign language speaking skills to perfect, a series of group papers to write and chapter upon chapter of international politics to read, throw in the next four months and there's my semester in a nutshell.

The journalism gods are finally getting back at me for devoting so much of my time to the government and politics side of my double degree. I'm currently taking a second level news reporting class and boy, you science geeks thought you had it bad with orgo. Now nobody likes classes in general, but you haven't seen fear and dread until you've walked into this journalism class.

Unlike most fields of study, journalism isn't something that can be taught from a book. Therefore, our school has decided that the only way we can truly learn to be journalists is to simply, well, become journalists for a semester. Next week we will be assigned a local city to cover and each week we will be assigned a certain story to write from that beat, be it a crime story, a court story or covering a city council meeting. We will also have in-class assignments to complete and, on top of all that, we have a minimum clip requirement to meet. Outside of all the class assignments, we have to get a certain number of articles published in campus or local newspapers. And that's just ONE class I'm taking this semester.

Luckily, Karen and Nancy took the class last semester and I knew the work was coming. Karen told me if I braced myself and accepted what I was getting myself into, I'd be fine. And even though I did just that, but it was still totally scary and anxiety-inducing when it was all laid out on the syllabus in front of me.

But it's not even the amount of work that has me worried. Work, I've already shown myself, is something I can handle. What really scares me is the reporting. I've tried to avoid it for the past two years, but my fear of reporting has finally caught up to me, and I'm being forced to face it. Yes, I am a journalism major with a paralyzing, utterly irrational fear of reporting.

My anxiety over this class has gotten so bad that this morning I woke up a full hour and a half before my alarm, unsure if I had even been sleeping the whole time because I had so vividly been dreaming that I had six different articles due at six different campus newspapers, half of which do not even exist. I then was unable to fall asleep and ended up getting out of bed 30 minutes early.

It's not that I haven't done it before. I have written articles and I have interviewed people, and I'm pretty good at both. I just really, really, really hate doing it, for reasons beyond my explanation. My professor was telling us today that if going out into the field intimidates us, we'd better suck it up and get over it, otherwise we will not succeed in this class or in this profession. But I suppose that's one of the things that bothers me, that this isn't even the profession I want to go into. I'm putting forth so much effort, undergoing undue stress and anxiety in one of the most rigorous programs in the country, and for what? I have absolutely no desire to become a reporter and am sticking with the major merely for the writing skills it develops (and not to mention the fact that the degree will look great on my resumé).

But, I am determined to get an A in this class and to get over my fears, and I've done just what my professor told us to do and gotten started early. One of the campus newspapers had their assignment meeting today and I got not one but two stories to write! 2 clips down, 8 to go. But as I was walking back to my apartment with a spring in my step, all I felt was this dead weight of dread on my shoulders, knowing that I would have to actually seek out university officials for comment and I'd have to interview random people at an event next week. And even though my rational mind knows that I'll be fine once I do my first interview, the irrational emotions still reign supreme and I'm petrified nonetheless.

Moving Back

Most people hate moving, and for good reason. It’s such a hassle, packing everything, hauling it away, and reorganizing it all once again. But lucky me, that’s what my college self gets to do every six months. Yes, I know going to a school 45 minutes away from home means the ordeal is considerably easier for me, but it still sucks. Being the oldest child, my family was suckered into buying every random college dorm tool in preparation for my freshman year, meaning my basement is now full of drying racks, lap desks, window fans and bed risers, all quite unnecessary when you’ve graduated to living in an apartment. In the past, I’ve hauled it all back to school anyways, just because I’d bought it and felt bad not using it.

To make matters worse, just like almost every other female out there, I am a flagrant overpacker. I dread having to pack my clothes, since I’ve realized I own waaaaaaayyy too many. Despite the fact that I regularly wear about 60 percent of my wardrobe, I feel the need to drag the entire collection of shoes, hoodies, skirts, tees, sweaters, belts, scarves, and bags with me to school. I mean, I guess I don’t really need to bring three different pairs of brown heels, but one pair is for casual skirts, one pair for nice skirts and one pair for pants. You see how difficult it would be to choose just one?

The best part is, students at my school think that because they are in college, it is suddenly acceptable to have a wardrobe consisting solely of sweatpants, free t-shirts and pajamas. If I were to walk into class wearing heels, half the students would ask me what the occasion was. I’m not saying I’m the best dressed or most fashionable person out there. My style is pretty simple, but that doesn’t mean I don’t look put-together and presentable for class. This may be a shock to some, but pajama pants aren’t actually a substitute for real pants.

But I digress. Contrary to making me more independent, college has just put me in a weird sort of limbo. I’m living on my own but I still happily rely on my parents to handle real-world things like bills. And while home to me is still my parent’s house, I’m only there a quarter of the year. The majority of my time is spent at school, where I live, work, play, eat and study with my friends. And while I love every minute of school, come May I want nothing more than to eat a plate of Mom’s rajma, discuss the latest political scandal with my dad, bother Neeraj about school and sleep in my own bed.

Last year during the election season, there were a number of voter registration drives on campus and even though I’m already registered in my home district, the people tried to get me to reregister to my campus district. Think about it, they said, you spend most of your time here, so you’re more affected by the actions of lawmakers representing this campus district. While that may be true, changing my voting district would mean acknowledging the fact that I am out of the house. And even halfway through college, I’m not ready to do that. Life on my own is something reserved for after college. Only then will I be required to learn how to manage a bank account, deal with insurance companies and keep a house clean.

A few weeks ago, while trying to fall asleep, I was struck by the realization that I was down to my last two weeks of summer freedom, ever. Sure, I still have next year’s summer break, but since I’ll be interning and, most likely still living abroad next summer, this was it for living completely free of responsibility at home. No work, no stress, just chilling with the fam. And yes, while this did get boring and frustrating at times, the thought that in two years, I will never, ever, ever get three completely empty, uncluttered months to simply exist is less than comforting. It means I’m growing up, and that’s a scary thing.

Okay, this post was not at all meant to become that philosophical and depressing. All I wanted to say was packing sucks and hopefully this time, I’ll actually take only what I need. Especially because in five months I’ll need to fit my entire life in two suitcases and one carry on, and as Karen told me earlier, that is no easy task.

The Enchantment of Harry Potter

Seeing as J.K. Rowling has already penned 4,100 pages worth of them, I have given up trying to find the words that do justice to the magnificence of Harry Potter’s epic journey. Devouring “Deathly Hallows” last month reminded me just how much I’d fallen in love with the series (and just how much of it I’d forgotten) so I decided to reread the entire thing, one to seven, start to finish. It was definitely different this time, reading the books while knowing how it all ends. I picked up on so many subtleties, nuances that linked each book to the next, and I found myself utterly amazed at just how continuous the whole thing was. Rowling really did have the entire story planned out right from the very beginning. I can’t imagine how difficult it must have been for her to keep so many of the details hidden from the public before the saga was finally complete.

As I was reading, I realized that I enjoyed the latter tomes more. I really liked how Harry himself seemed to mature through the years, how he, the “chosen one” wasn’t perfect. He talked back to people, got detention, lost people close to him, and struggled with the enormity of his task. (Not to mention he wasn’t afraid to bend the rules from time to time, something my goody two shoes self could never do) And I know this may sound a bit naive, but the physical pain that boy went through in seven years – a de-boned arm, cracked skull, broken nose. I’m pretty sure the words “scar seared with pain” appeared at least eighty five times in each book.

But beyond Rowling’s superb character development, I especially liked that the books got progressively darker and more adult. Because I’ve had the experience of literally growing up with Harry, it’s been a nice introduction to life in the real world. Sure, I won’t necessarily be battling dark wizards or hunting down Horcruxes any time soon, but I will have to deal with broken hearts, losing parents, forgiving an enemy and standing up for my beliefs at some point in my life. I may not have a magic wand to help me get through all of that, but Harry’s wand didn’t bring his parents back, help him get over Cho or make him save Malfoy. The lessons Rowling wove into the seven books, lessons of courage, loyalty, bravery, forgiveness, and responsibility are things I can learn from. And that right there is the beauty of Harry Potter. It may be set in the impossible, but the core of the tale is very real. Can we learn to trust those around us, to keep ourselves from temptation or to sacrifice for the common good of society? Can we learn to love? If the success of Harry Potter is any indication, I think we can.

Last week, I saw a letter in the newspaper lambasting Rowling’s progressive darkening of the series. The man wondered why the books were considered children’s literature when the seventh one should have come with a parental advisory sticker. He said the material presented in the fifth and sixth novels scared his daughter so much that upon receiving the seventh book, all she did was turn to the end to make sure Harry survived and then put it down.

But to all that, I say, Deal with it, because that’s life. The series is such a beautiful testament to the difficulties of leaving childhood behind and dealing with responsibility. It reveals the true nature of the world around us, how people are prejudiced, how the government doesn’t always do what’s right, and how we have the power to make the right choices.

The books offer a wonderful opportunity for parents to sit down with their children and learn together about what’s important in this world. What better way to explain to your children the difficulties of life and the challenges of the real world than through the metaphor of magic?

Should Records Come With Asterisks?

The moment has now come and gone. We knew it was coming when the season began, and in the last hours of Tuesday August 7, it did. Whether the world wants to accept it or not, one powerful swing was all it took to inaugurate a new king of sports. Yes, it also took 755 other powerful swings and God knows what else to get him there, but Barry Bonds has done it.

Over the past day I've been trying to figure out how exactly I feel about the whole thing. I know, the truth about Bonds' steroid use is not exactly crystal clear, and he has always been looked at as one of the game's best players in history, but the whole thing still doesn't really sit well with me. When regular people come along and do amazing things, we should be able to look at them in wonder and awe. Their achievements are supposed to teach our children about the value of determination, hard work and integrity. But more and more often, broken records are scrutinized instead of praised. The "wow"s are being replaced by "what if"s and "why"s. As Michael Wilbon said in today's column, "I can't come to a definitive conclusion on what's fair and what's foul anymore." Of all the commentary I've watched and read, Wilbon's column is the one that articulates exactly what's been going through my head.

But the questions surrounding Bonds' shed light on the identity crisis that sports as a whole is suffer ring. Turn on Sportscenter or open to the Sports section and at least half of what you see has to deal with steroids, doping, betting, fixing. In a word, cheating. ESPN has a really interesting article on this degeneration of sports and for the next two days will be focusing on this topic and where the future of sports lies.

I've got more to write about this, so stay tuned.

Red Eyeshadow

I think it's the combination of fancy colors, luxurious scents, and the idea that an entire store exists for the sole purpose of making my face look stunning, that makes Sephora so irresistible. I joined Sareena and her college friends today for our ritual trip to the mall, and while all the boys waited patiently outside, us girls spent an unnecessary amount of time browsing around. But, I will quickly add that, for once, we actually did have a purpose for being there. One of Sareena's friends needed to find just the right shade of pink, green, and brown eyeshadow for her mother, who is doing a bride's makeup this weekend.

While we were debating between shimmer or matte, palette or duo, I tried as long as I could to hold off from playing with the makeup. But then I noticed Urban Decay's Deluxe Eyeshadow in Heat, and I couldn't resist any longer. I slid my finger across the velvety soft surface and rubbed it on the back of my hand. I'd found it. This was the color I'd been searching for.

I've always wanted to get some red eyeshadow, despite the fact that I have no real idea how to pull it off. But, by red eyeshadow, I don't mean that punky, goth fire-hydrant red paint smeared across the entire eye. No, I mean a shimmery, deep orangeish-red tastefully brushed across the lid. Basically, the exact the color that was now streaked on my index finger. Looking at all the bright colors around me, I wished I could get them all and learn how to artfully pull of the smoky eye or the electric blue eye for a night on the town.

Now that I'd already begun, I figured it was no point holding back, so I proceeded to continue smearing pretty colors across my hand, including this Urban Decay Heavy Metal Glitter Eye Liner. (Wouldn't that be fun to put on before going out?) I made my way around the store, trying out perfumes as well as shadows, and came across this sumptuous LAVANILA Vanilla Blossom scent.

(I swear, I wasn't paid to put up all these links, I just had a bit too much fun at the store.) Anyways, to make a long story short, we finally found the right eye shadows for the bride and I walked out empty-handed. Don't roll your eyes and ask me what was the point of telling you all this; I never said I was actually intending on buying anything. I mean, yes, the stuff looked and smelled a-maz-ing, but really, 17 dollars for an eyeshadow I'm not even going to be using everyday. I don't even have something to match the shadow with. But it isn't even about the money. It's just important to remember that eye shadow can be wiped off as easily as it glides on.

When I was in high school, I imagined my college self as this chic young woman who spent every weekend out having fun. In the back of my head, I knew it wouldn't happen, and after attending a couple of those crazy college parties freshman year, I realized I didn't even want it to. That person just wasn't me, and slowly I began to accept it. I'd much rather go out for a nice dinner or spend an evening lounging around with the friends I care about most than attend a drunken fratfest. I sometimes still see imagine myself becoming that stylish bar-hopper, but I suspect that won't happen until I've got my own job, place, and disposable income. But until then, I'll take my reunions at the mall and makeup dabbling as the last vestiges of a disappearing adolescence.

Nocturnal News Update

So clearly, because I have nothing better to do with my time, (and well, let's be honest, neither do you if you're actually reading this), here are some interesting news tidbits that should keep you occupied for the next couple hours if you're also finding sleep to be elusive:

First, here's a guy whose not exactly in the running for father of the year; after all, he left his son behind while swimming in the Dead Sea.

Yankee Stadium was certainly the place to be this past weekend, what with A-Rod hitting his 500th homer on Saturday and Matsui getting his 100th long ball yesterday. However, can't say the same for things over on the west coast, where Angel Stadium seems to have a slight rodent problem (um, gross) and another record-breaking shot was greeted with a mixture of boos, cheers and nonchalance, on the part of commissioner Bud Selig.

But of course, life is more than just sports, so we turn now to the state of our country. There was a really interesting opinion piece in the Post about how the United States has slipped and fallen one too many times on the global stage, and something needs to be done.

While I was reading that article, a sad thought entered my head. Change takes a long time, and even if we start now, turning this country around is going to take fifty or a hundred years. And more likely than not, I'm not going to be around to see the effects of those changes. Think about it, George Marshall isn't around to see the legacy of his plan to reconstruct Europe in the wake of WWII. FDR isn't here today to see how dependent we've become on many of his New Deal Programs, especially Social Security. I guess when working in the government, you have to accept that no matter who you are, whether you're a lowly House intern or the president him(her) self, you're just one small piece in the jigsaw puzzle that makes up the institution. You've just got to have faith that the job you're doing now will someday make a difference to someone. If fame is what you're after, the government is the last place you should be looking.

A Lesson About Pea-ple

Continuing with my newfound domesticity, I just finished shelling a bagful of peas that my mom was extremely excited about finding at our local grocery store. (Usually we only come across the frozen variety.) While enjoying the rare moment of solitude the peapods brought, I realized that the old adage about not judging a book by its cover applied to peas as well. While most of the long, thick pods I opened contained healthy, robust peas, there was the occasional giant pod that surprised me with the smallest and dantiest of peas. Conversely, some of the smaller pods, from which I wasn't really expecting much, yielded firm, fat peas. I guess even vegetables can be full of surprises.

A Day in the Life of Mom

Going to India seems to have unintentionally knocked some responsibility into my head. I don't know if it was seeing my two younger cousins dutifully helping out at the drop of a hat or what, but I know my Mom's happy about it. She's been after me for a while now to learn how to cook properly, and I've finally become genuinely receptive to doing so. I tried my hand at making some gobi pakoras (fried cauliflower appetizers) to take to Sumegha's house for dinner last night, and judging by the empty container I brought home, my first attempt seems to have turned out quite well.

But it's not just the cooking bug that's bitten me. Those who know me know I'm not the neatest, most organized person in the world. Going to college has only made me worse in terms of organization. Ever since I moved back in May my bedroom floor has resembled a minefield of paper piles. Every morning I wake up, take a look at the piles and say to myself, today's the day I'm going to clean all this up. But alas, there are just so many books to be read and so manyTV shows to be watched that cleaning just seems to slip off the list. Last night it finally got to me though, and after trying unsuccessfully for an hour to fall asleep, I got up and resolutely tackled the disaster. The more I cleaned the more I realized that I simply have way too much stuff. Old textbooks, folders full of notes, random fliers, half-filled notebooks; it was a never-ending flow of paper. After assembling quite a formidable pile of paper to be recycled, I tried going back to bed, but I was too wound up worrying about my intense case of pack-rat syndrome and what I could possibly do to get rid of all the unnecessary stuff I have, to fall asleep. So I got back up and resumed my cleaning. Sometime around 6ish, when it really started getting light outside, I realized I probably wouldn't be going to sleep.

Around 7 I had morning chai with my parents, read the paper and went on a walk with my mom. After the morning news update, I rolled up my sleeves and prepared to clean my bathroom. Now I know, doing chores like these, for most people my age, isn't a big deal, but I'll admit, I haven't been the most helpful of children. I do the work, but only after being reminded multiple times. That's why this time, even though Mom didn't say anything, I'm sure she's glad that I seem to have finally grasped the notion of helping out around the house. Although she may attribute my actions more to the fact that Sareena is coming over to watch a movie. Which I admit, it a big reason why I've gone on this cleaning spree, but hey, at least I'm doing the work, right?

Anyways, I had lunch around noon and then settled in for what I thought was going to be an hour long nap. Yeah, that definitely turned into a three hour nap, but hey, that's what summer's all about. But shortly it'll be time to relax and chill with an old friend, so the day isn't all work and no play.

Morning News Update

Ever since I was a young child, I've always marveled at man's ability to build. Boats, planes, bridges and dams, how such massive devices and structures are created and how they function has always been a mystery to me. Driving across a large, water-spanning bridge, be it the Golden Gate or the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, leaves me gazing in amazement. Just how those massive concrete pylons below and the web of steel girders above manage to hold up the weight of all those cars is beyond my comprehension. But in the back of my head, that wonderment has always led to the morbid question, what if the bridge isn't actually able to hold up all that weight? It's just a quick thought, a flit of fear running unconsciously through my head, quite similar to that split-second fear people have when boarding an airplane as to whether they'll be landing safely at their destination. We've learned to dismiss these fears, much like those childhood ones about the bogeyman and the dark, as irrational and most unlikely, and move on with our lives.

Of course, this logic was turned on its head when I saw images of the collapsed Interstate 35W bridge on CNN shortly before dinner last night. It was like something you would see in an action flick, not in real life. Can you even imagine, one minute you're driving down the road, the next minute the road is creaking beneath you and suddenly just drops out into the murky Mississippi River below. It really makes you wonder what's going on when the state department of transportation issues a report stating that a bridge "should not have any problems with fatigue cracking in the forseeable future" and six years later what once was a bridge now resembles a gigantic concrete accordion. But I guess it's best to avoid passing judgement until officials can determine what exactly caused the collapse.

In other news, this time turning to the election trail, last night I found and read, out of pure curiosity, that Vanity Fair piece on Judith Nathan, aka the new Mrs. Giuliani. Now, believe what you want about the woman, I'm here to comment on the writing. As a journalism student, I'm really wondering how you can get away with such snarky writing in a publication not titled The National Enquirer. I mean, the piece was downright Rita Skeeter-esque, and that woman isn't even real. Don't tell me you didn't picture Judy Bachrach sucking on a Quick Quotes Quill when you read the line: "An interesting question. Who does Judith Stish Ross Nathan Giuliani think she is?" I know that public officials are held to a much higher standard when it comes to proving libel, but this almost seems to be toeing the line to me.

But this isn't to say I'm defending Nathan in any way. Trust me, when looking at public officials, marital habits are at the top of my list, and I don't approve of anyone who can't keep them in check, no matter what party you are. (That goes for you too Bill.)

And of course, what would the morning news update be without some juicy celeb gossip. Apparently, Nicole Richie is preggers; 4 months, to be exact. Hmm...now remind me again, how long ago was that DUI incident? Why is it that the relationship between parental capabilities and fertility seems to be an inverse one?

But anyways, that's all the news on my mind this morning. Let's hope that despite the rush hour traffic on that bridge, the body count doesn't increase too much.

(Oh, a quick side note: You'll be happy to hear my tummy finally grumbled with hunger this morning - I'm all back to normal now :)