The 90-day band-aid

Seeing your article up on the internet sure does a lot to make you feel better, even if the editors inserted a factual error that you did not have when you submitted the article. The editor-in-chief said she'd correct it, but it still kinda sucks. But at least, now I really know that I can survive this class.

I was talking to Nancy today about (what else) 320, and she said something brilliant. She said that 320 is like a band aid: you worry and worry about removing it, but the quicker you rip it off, the less it hurts.

Which is exactly what I was telling Mom on my hour long complain-fest last night. The quicker I can get this police story done, the quicker I can regain my sanity again. My professor said this week's assignment is one of the hardest, since the police hardly ever release info to us. But we've got to try, and I've spent the past two days on the phone trying my ass off. And you know what. Everyone I've talked to has been nice, friendly and polite, even if none of them has given me the information I need. But still, it really is not that bad to interview people and I'm not really that terrible at writing down quotes.

It's like my mind is divided in two sections: the rational one knows that this class will teach me how to overcome things I never would without it. I know that I need this class, but then the emotional side of my brain weighs in to completely freak me out. I lay in bed and wonder if I'll be able to get my 10 clips, and if I'll be able to talk to people I need to, and if I'll get an A in this class. The eight or so hours are the only ones I spend without feeling all the work sitting on my head. But even then, the past couple of nights I've had such vivid dreams, the ones that leave you feeling like you didn't get a chance to rest because your mind was working overtime.

But after finally finishing the article on Sunday's falafel event, I realized that I can write a proper article based only on 20 or so minutes of interviewing people. I don't know what I would have done without Supraja there, forcing me to go up to those people and talk to them. I half believe I would have turned around and walked away instead of doing my job and reporting the story.

But seeing as that little time spent interviewing got me enough information to write a 600 word article, imagine how simple it will be to write a 6 paragraph police story for my class. I think my professor is more focused on getting us to go out there and report rather than having us really get the full story. He knows we aren't veteran reporters, we're just students.

Enough talk about 320, now on to a happier note, I got admitted to the university in Spain! Meaning I a) have to go abroad because they now have a 200 euro deposit from me, b) have to put together a cover letter, resume, and clip package for the summer internship I hope to get over there, and c) have to begin the banal bureaucratic procedure of getting a sheaf of papers signed by 5 different departments on campus so I actually can go abroad.

But on an even happier note, I don't think I mentioned this earlier, but there is a light at the end of this very long and arduous tunnel and it comes in the form of NO FINAL EXAMS for me!!!!!! Yup, you read that right - none at all. Zero, zilch, nada. I roll out of here a whole week and a half before everyone else. See, there really is a God somewhere.