New Career for Me

I have found a new calling in life, and boy is this one a perfect blend of my skills. Ready....drum roll please...I've decided I'm going to be a telenovela writer. That's right, you know those enormously overdramatic soap operas full of jealousy, passion, and intrigue all in rapid-fire Spanish. Turns out I'm not half bad at writing them. I mean what other job lets you use call someone a love-thief and warn them of being pushed off a building by a deranged and supposed best friend.

In my Spanish class we have to work in groups to write and perform a mini telenovela. When we started working on this on Monday, my group and I just sat there blankly, unsure how to begin. Nickie suggested we have someone in a coma, and it just took off from there. It's ridiculous, we've now got a three women chasing after the same man, someone falling off a roof, an attempted poisoning and of course, the token revelation of pregnancy (which gets to be my little surprise).

As you can see, I'm having an enjoyable Saturday. Once I finish the script, I'll translate the whole story for you to read in all its glory.

Trans-Atlantic Talks

I had a couple of loose ends to tie up with my whole studying abroad thing, so I decided to call up Spain this morning. Easier said than done. First step: waking up at 5:15 a.m. a full hour and a half earlier than I have to on Wednesdays.

I'm trying to get a summer internship at an arts and entertainment magazine in Spain. I mailed my application package to their office last week, and I wanted to make sure it got there okay. I gave them a call and talked to one of the editors there. First, of all, he had a British accent, meaning I had to concentrate more to understand him, given that my brain felt about as dark as the sky outside. We were talking about the internship and he asked if I knew Spanish. I replied that I'd been studying it for eight years and would be spending the semester before the internship living in Spain, so yes, my skills are pretty decent. Then, out of nowhere, he rattles off a question in Spanish. My brain momentarily stopped functioning. First, the realization that hey, this man is now speaking in a foreign language, had to set in. By the time that clicked, I only heard the last two words of his sentence.

"Uhhh, I'm really sorry, but what?" was my reply.

"Oh, I was just testing you," he answered. I got the impression that he was smiling when he said that. Oh great - just what everyone wants at the crack of dawn - a language test to fail.

"I'm really sorry, but it's 5:30 in the morning here," I told him, hoping that my lame excuse would suffice.

"Oh wow, I didn't realize it was that early over there. You got up that early especially to call us?"

"Yup,"

"Well, that was very contentious of you."

Ha, I had redeemed myself. We went on to talk some more about the internship and he told me he'd get back to me soon.

Next step: Call the university. I had a couple of housing questions and was transferred to someone who sounded quite American. I told him where I was from and what university I attend, and he said he had recently been to my university. That in and of itself isn't necessarily surprising since my school is a large state school, but it's still nice to have a connection like that with a stranger. He didn't mention in what capacity he'd visited here, but we were talking about the Spanish department and then studying abroad, and he was telling me about how much my Spanish was going to improve.

"You'd have to be a total moron loser to not improve your speaking skills here," he said. No joke, that's what he said. It was great. He talked about how I'll meet so many students from all over the place, which is precisely the reason why I chose to direct enroll in the university rather than go through an American university or a program provider. I told him about how I really wanted to push myself to become a part of the culture and not just be like - hey you're American, let's be friends. We had a really nice conversation and he now I'm super excited to go. Since direct enrolling has left me pretty much responsible for everything, it's nice to know I've got a friendly face on the other side who I can ask questions.

Perfect Paneer

After being up since 5:20 this morning, an hour and a half earlier than usual, the only thing that was getting me through 11:00 Spanish was the prospect of digging into Mom's paneer.

I got back to the apartment, warmed everything up and dug into what was quite possibly the best meal I have ever had.

It was just shahi paneer that Mom literally whipped up in 10 minutes while I was eating breakfast yesterday, but that first bite was almost heavenly. The tangy tomato puree combined with the thick cream was almost more than I could handle. As I devoured the cushy pillows of paneer with the flaky roti, I thought to myself, screw all my lofty life goals. If I can make a dish that makes someone as happy as this paneer has made me, my life would be complete.

Especially after talking to Mom last night, the prospect of staying home isn't as inconceivable to me. I remember this one conversation I had with Mom freshman year where she told me how she was once offered this position at Marriott and that if she had taken it, today she would probably be something like executive V.P of housekeeping or something really high up and awesome. But, she turned down the position - and you know the reason why? Because I was born.

When she told me that I was like...what!!! You turned down this amazing job just because of me? Why the heck did you do that! I'm not worth that! And she just replied, when you have kids, everything changes. And of course I couldn't understand that then, but now I'm starting to get what she means. I've noticed that a lot of times, powerful and influential women (Condoleezza Rice and Oprah Winfrey come to mind) also aren't married and don't have kids. And that's one thing I know I can't give up. Yes, I'm about as driven and as competitive as it gets, but when it comes down to making that choice, I know I'm going with the family.

Then again, I'm also the one that when people tell me that eventually I'll actually have to make that choice, I pretend I can't hear what they're saying because I've already made everything else in life work, so why should this one be any different? The saying 'you can't have your cake and eat it too' means nothing to me because I've been eating the cake all my life, and don't plan on stopping any time soon.

Except now because I've got to go to class. Adios!

P.S. I'll have to tell you about this morning's conversation with Spain when I get back.

Taking My Own Advice

It's funny how yesterday I wrote that worrying is a waste of time because freaking out is all I've done today. And of course everything ended up working out perfectly fine and I was left wondering how much more I could accomplish if I put all my effort that goes into worrying into something productive.

Last night, while writing up my business story, I realized I left my passport at school, and would have to go back in the morning to get it before going to the embassy to get my visa. Of course, because I love to complicate my life, I had also been debating between getting the regular student visa or the extended one, since I might be staying abroad to intern, but I'm haven't heard from the place I applied, so I'm not really sure at all. So I proceeded to wake Papa up not once, but twice at about 1 a.m. kind of freaking out about whether I had all the correct documents or not. He told me to go to bed and that we would just go to the embassy and get the facts from them.

I went to bed feeling only a little better, but exhaustion eventually got the better of me and I fell asleep fairly quickly given how much was on my mind.

In the morning, Mom frantically cooked some more food for me to take back, since plans had changed and I wouldn't be stopping at home before heading back to school after the visa stuff. We went to school, I grabbed my passport and we headed into the city. Once there, we found the Spanish embassy, I took a deep breath, and we walked in. The friendly guard pointed me toward the visa desk, which was completely empty, and the woman asked what she could do. I told her I wanted a student visa, she took my papers, looked through them briefly and told me to come back in seven weeks.

I was a little confused. The last time I went to get a visa, which was this summer for our India trip, it was a day-long ordeal. After I got over my initial shock at this efficiency, I asked her about the extended visa. She said that would involve a letter from school saying I was taking classes. Well then, I thought, that settles it. I don't have a letter nor do I plan on taking more classes, so I'm just going to apply for the regular student visa and that's that.

Papa and I thanked her and headed out the embassy, thanking the guard on the way out. I looked at my watch. Three minutes. That's how long we spent inside the embassy. And that was counting the time it took for me to ask and her to answer my question. Really? I'd spent last night and this morning freaking out about everything and this was all it took? I mean, I'm definitely not complaining, but still. That was it?

Anyways, Papa and I had time to kill, so we wandered around the city, conversing amiably. The weather was perfect, a little cloudy so the sun wasn't in our eyes, and not-too-warm temperatures with the perfect slow cool breeze. It was too early for lunch, so we strolled for about an hour or so before heading to this Vietnamese cafe for lunch.

For lunch I had a shrimp and lemongrass soup and a little lunch box with rice, salad, a spring roll and grilled chicken with peanut sauce. The soup was so good, sweet and light with a tangy kick. The box was really cute and everything tasted amazing. Papa had shrimp in garlic sauce which was also really good.

After lunch we decided to head back, since I (unfortunately) had work waiting for me. We had a nice ride back, chatting about politics and careers and life in general. I really like when we have those conversations. Sometimes it's just so easy to talk to Papa about all that stuff, and every once in a while he says something that just completely makes sense. He'll bring up a point that I never thought about, and suddenly things just click.

Fast forward a couple of hours, when I was on the phone with Mom, who talked to Nani Ma recently. Mom started telling me how much she misses Nani Ma and how she feels so bad sometimes because Nani Ma is all the way in India and we're all the way over here. Nani Ma waits for years and years for us to come, and then when we finally do visit it's only for a couple of weeks and we never really get to spend quality time with her. Mom went on about how much she looks forward to me visiting from college, and then when I do come, the time passes by so quickly and it's time for me to go right back, and how I'm going to be abroad next semester and pretty soon Neeraj is going to be going to college and how it must be exponentially difficult for Nani Ma because the distance is so much greater. Needless to say, I think at that moment it hit Mom that her children are growing up, and let's just say the phone call ended with a lot of Kleenex.

Even though it's not like growing up is my fault, I still felt guilty. I felt the exact same way when I left for college and Neeraj was at home all alone. I mean, for a brother and sister I think we were pretty close, and for us suddenly not to be seeing each other 24/7 was kind of weird. But like Mom said, at least I'm just a 45 minute drive away. I honestly can't imagine what it would be like being 10,000 miles away from Mom and the rest of my family, not being able to call any time I wanted or just hop on the Metro and be home in an hour.

Anyways, I don't really know what point I was trying to get at, just that there's enough meaningful change to worry about in life that you'd better not sweat the small stuff too.

Business Story Breakthrough

This morning when my journalism professor told us about this week's story, I kind of freaked out. For the past month, I've been following the same issue, basically rewriting the same story three times. Just when I got into a fairly comfortable routine of calling up the same four sources for information, Prof threw us a curveball and instead of continuing with our issue stories, we now have to do a business story.

We have to profile a local business, talk to owners, customers, ask people what's good, what's bad, walk around the strip mall and ask people if they would go to that store or not. Even worse, this week in class we have to write a story on the unemployment rate. Upon hearing this, apparently my internal dread leaked through onto my face, because the girl behind me just started laughing and said I didn't look particularly excited for this assignment.

Fast forward a couple hours: I was telling Sumegha about how much I didn't want to write this story when she suggested I just profile our local Indian grocery store. I thought about it for a minute and realized what a genius idea that was. We already go there a lot and I know the owners pretty well. I had to come home tonight anyways, because tomorrow I'm going to get my visa to study abroad.

Fast forward some more: Papa and I were running some errands and I was completely dreading going to the grocery store. You know me - I hate interviewing people, especially when I know that all they want to do is buy their dal and go home. But I sucked it up, walked into the store and explained my assignment to the Uncle who owns the store. And just like every other experience this class has forced me to endure, once it began, it wasn't really that bad at all. Uncle was more than happy to talk to me, and he said some really great quotes.

But now came the worst part. I had to walk up to customers and ask them what they thought about the store. I took a deep breath and walked up to one woman who was standing in the checkout line. I told her what I was doing, and she just started chatting away, telling me how great the store was. Alright, I thought, this isn't so bad after all. I talked to a couple more customers, and one even said something about how the store could be improved. I was so relieved when he said that, because Prof emphasized that this article was not to be an advertisement for the store. I wandered around the store writing down random details that might come in handy, and even talked to one of the employees. Thirty minutes later I walked out of there totally set. All I've got to do now is write this bad boy up, and the journalism assignment I was dreading only twelve hours earlier will be finished and ready to go.

See, I shoulda known. Things always work out. Freaking out is just wasted effort.

Hazelnut Heaven

Just an FYI, waffles with Nutella are the best thing ever. Ever.

Basically, anything with Nutella = my tastebuds temporarily in heaven.

:)

Roller Coaster Week

Yesterday was a good day (well, minus all the work I had to do). Today, not so much.

I interviewed with that publication, and it went really, really well. She was impressed with the internship I did last semester, which was with the government, and basically I've secured an internship for next fall before I've tied down the one for this summer. I also ran around campus getting all the paperwork signed to get my study abroad stuff approved, and very very surprisingly, I got it all done in one day. Seriously, given all the bureaucracy I've had to go through to get stuff signed in the past, I was shocked that everything happened so smoothly. I also mailed off my package to the publication abroad I'm trying to intern at, so hopefully I'll hear back from them soon.

Now for today's much crappier turn of events. First of all, I was fasting for a religious holiday today. Secondly, I only got three hours of sleep last night because I was working on my English paper. While both my in-class journalism assignment and my Spanish presentation went well, what most certainly did not go well was my web design exam. Half of the exam involved designing a really basic web page, and it turns out I memorized the wrong coding tags and basically got a ton of points off. And if you know me, you know I generally tend to freak out about all assignments/exams and say I did badly. But really, this time I'm not kidding. It's like with math, if you don't know how to do the problem, you simply don't know. You write in a random number for the answer and then hope for partial credit, which is what my hopes are hinging on.

Of course when I got back to my apartment, I looked up the coding that I messed up, but strangely, I didn't feel too bad. I guess I've finally begun to internalize the whole "hindsight is 20/20. During the exam, I sat there for about an hour just playing with the coding trying to get it to work. I finally decided to turn it in because this wasn't really an essay question that I could b.s. my way through. The thing that bothered me was the split-second look of surprise that passed across my teacher's face when she opened the web page I designed and saw a couple of the components missing. I knew she was disappointed in me, but there was nothing I could do just sitting there staring at the screen.

I guess that shows I've progressed a bit - I was angry of course, but I didn't really know what at. I guess I was angry at myself, but I kept thinking to myself, if I don't know this, I simply don't know it, so sitting there any longer wouldn't have done anything. While I could have studied more, for the last two weeks it's just been so hard to get motivated to do work. It's like I've passed over that mid-semester hump and I've got a pretty good handle on all my classes, it's just a matter of continuing the routine.

Anyways, once I finished looking up the answers I missed, I literally had absolutely no desire to do anything. I thought about doing government reading, but I simply could not get motivated and knew I'd just be staring blankly at the page. I laid down and tried to go to sleep, but that didn't work, despite last night's lack of sleep. I thought about how screwing up this exam might jeopardize my A in this class, but to my surprise, I wasn't as angry as I thought I would be. I mean, yes, I would be really angry at myself if I end up with a B, but I do still have time and there are other assignments worth more, and I don't know how much partial credit I'll be getting for the things I missed on this exam. I realized that grades are really arbitrary when it comes to the real world. This coding that I was tested on, it's all automatic nowadays, so it's not like me not knowing how to change the background color of a web page is going to shut me out of the job market. After all hasn't almost every one of my journalism professors told me that they aren't where they are because of their GPA? Seriously, 20 years from now no one is going to give a crap what arbitrary number supposedly quantified their intelligence. And besides, there is a reason why human beings are not perfect. And am I not a human being?

Okay I so did not mean for this to get that philosophical. What I mean to say is that I think I'm finally realizing that in the grand scheme of things, grades really don't matter as much as I'm telling myself they do.

Anyways, I couldn't sleep, and my stomach was howling at me. I called Mom to ask her when I could eat, and this is what sent me over the edge. She said the fasting is tomorrow, and that I didn't need to even keep it. I couldn't handle it. Not only had I had a terrible afternoon, but I had suffered for nothing! It wasn't for nothing, Mom said. God knew I fasted today and would reward me for it. But still, I couldn't help it and out came the tears. I didn't even know why; it wasn't because of the exam. I think I was just overwhelmed. I think Mom got kind of freaked out because I've never really reacted like that, although I know it wasn't the exhaustion but the food deprivation that triggered the waterworks. Needless to say I got off the phone and made myself a meal, and finally found myself in a normal enough state of mind to talk to my roomies again. (I had shut myself in my bedroom since returning from the exam earlier this afternoon). And then Sumegha gave me a big hug and I felt a lot better (I'm sure the teriyaki noodles I made helped too).

And now I just spent the past half hour catching the second-half of that awful chick lit series Gossip Girl. Oh God the wonders that terrible television does to your mood. So now I'm feeling better and figure my life is not over because I basically bombed an exam.

Role Reversal

I love how I overcomplicate my life.

On Thursday, I came back to my apartment with a pounding headache, intending on doing nothing but eating and lying down. Out of habit, I checked my email immediately when I got back, and what I saw left me stunned.

Let me backtrack for a second.

On Wednesday our school held its annual career fair, and I went. Even though I have an internship lined up for the summer, it hasn't been set in stone, so I essentially went to secure plan B (but shh, don't tell them that). I interviewed at one political publication, and I don't think I did a very good job, because this publication covers Congress and domestic issues and all I talked about was how interested I am in international relations. But I dropped off my resume, said thank you and moved on to the other political publication that was there. I think I did a much better job talking to them, and evidently my thinking is correct because it was an email from this publication that I found in my inbox.

Usually it's us students who are writing the polite emails to prospective employers thanking them and asking for an interview. But, this situation was quite the opposite:

"I remember you mentioning that you were studying abroad next semester and wanted to secure a summer internship before you left. Please let me know if you are available for a phone interview sometime next week."

Whaaaa? Did they just ask ME for an interview?! I honestly didn't think I was good enough to get something like this, especially because I've never technically done a journalism internship (shhh don't tell anyone) and the only pure journalistic experience I have is writing for on-campus publications (although I do now have all that beat reporting from this semester's journalism class).

Anyways, I freaked out because this would be an amazing opportunity, but I really want to keep the other internship, which is abroad. But, that internship isn't set in stone yet and in case that doesn't work, I would want to do this one. Anyways, to make a long story short, I called Papa and then I wrote this four paragraph email to my internship coordinator asking what should I do. The email response was 3 lines. Don't worry, she told me, just mention that you might be staying abroad but you're interested in the fall. Which is exactly what Papa told me too.

So, I now have an interview for an internship I wasn't planning on getting in the field I wasn't planning on going into. The best part - my overactive imagination has now started thinking about this internship turning into a job after I graduate - which isn't for a couple of years.

I know. I'm crazy :) But apparently that craziness pays off every once in a while.

Nothing Wrong With Aiming High

During a break in one of my classes I was catching up on the Post's coverage of the Yankees loss Monday and came across Thomas Boswell's column. It was depressing, yes, to read that the Yankees"are the aging patient" and this last game " felt like a night-long vigil around a sick bed." But there was one thing Boswell wrote that really bothered me. While discussing how even the Yankees inflated payroll couldn't translate into a World Series win, Boswell wrote, "Luckily, in baseball, money apparently can't beat the best. Not anymore. Not, at least, under the Boss's ludicrous edict that anything less than a World Series win is a failure"

Now wait just one minute here.

Okay, maybe calling this season a "failure" is a bit extreme, but don't tell me there's anything wrong with expecting the best and only being satisfied with the best. Tell me, does it make any sense to tell your team, hey guys, why don't you just go out there and try to do well. It doesn't matter that we're investing all this time and money into your performance, just go out there and play. And then if you lose, we'll just pat you on the back and go grab a couple of beers and everything will be fine.

No. That's not how the world works. Nobody says, Hey team, let's aim for third place this year!
The whole 'winning doesn't matter' deal only works when you're teaching Little Leaguers how to play baseball. Not in the majors. In the real world, results matter.

Don't get me wrong. Losing is valuable too. There are certain things you can only learn from losing. And sometimes, yes, even when you put forth your best efforts, you fall short. And no, you should never resort to cheating to win. And yes I've heard enough about the big, bad Yankees who just buy all their talent and don't let anyone else share the glory of winning the World Series. To all that I say, first of all, a lot of their money comes from a fan base still willing to pay hundreds of dollars to see their games and buy their merchandise, despite the World Series drought. It's basic capitalism guys. Do I think any player is truly worth $250 million? Probably not. But hey, if that's how people want to spend their money, good for them. And secondly, yes, the Yankee are the winningest team in sports. But what's wrong with rewarding the best. What would you rather see, a cap on the number of titles someone can win? It takes work to win. With determination, hard work and a bit of luck, any of the other 29 teams can win it too.

In short, there isn't anything wrong with expecting nothing but the best from your team.

People sometimes accuse me of bandwagoning when they learn I like the Yankees though I lack a direct New York connection. Now I know exactly why I was drawn to them. They're a team that refuses to settle and will do whatever it takes to succeed. They expect nothing but the best from themselves, and neither do their fans. If only other people could think the same way. If only other people would stop settling for mediocrity when they're capable of so much more.

Yanks Rally Falls Short, Season Ends With Questions Looming

Well, it's over. They tried, but the Indians just outpitched them. Their offense hit a spark, but it was too little too late. The two game deficit proved too much for the Yankees to overcome, and it isn't just the end of their season, but it could be the end of an era.

Steinbrenner said Torre's job was on the line, and no one kids around with Steinbrenner. I'd be surprised if he didn't stand by his word, and while Torre led the Yanks to the postseason every year he has managed them, that seven-year drought is more than unacceptable to the most demanding owner in sports. A-Rod could opt out of his contract, Pettitte, Posada, Rivera, Abreu could choose not to return and Clemens is probably out for good.

It's disappointing, a complete downer to see the Yanks go out in the first round of the postseason for the third time in a row, and especially after the way they came back from the 14.5 game deficit earlier this season and the hope that yesterday's game brought. I absolutely have to hand it to the Indians though. They came into this series and they did what they had to do. Instead of letting the Yankees bats scare them, the Indians pitchers silenced them. We came alive at home in the Bronx, but it just wasn't enough.

But that's what comes with the territory of October baseball. Legends are made and expectations are beaten down. And besides, this ALCS between Cleveland and Boston should be an amazing one, because honestly, (and yes it pains me to say it) both teams played really well in their respective division series'.

And that's life - you win some, you lose some. But beyond the baseball blues, now I need to find a way to get my mind back into finishing this take-home exam, when all I want to do is sleep.

Writing Overload

I feel like I don't know how to write anymore. That's what I get for taking classes where my only assignments are writing ones. I write articles in journalism, write papers in English and the only exams in my government class come in the form of take-home essays. It's not the writing itself that is bothering me (Trust me, I'd much rather be typing away at a five page paper than sweating it out in a lecture hall answering multiple choice questions.) The thing that is driving me crazy is that I'm using totally different styles of writing. And the journalistic style that has almost become my default it completely not what I need to use when writing in-depth essay responses. I've started cringing when my paragraphs run longer than two sentences and I am unable to use passive voice anymore (Jour Prof would be so proud to hear that.) My sentences have all become short, declarative and to the point. Not a bad place to be except now my papers are dryer than a desert lake. Karen wrote the same thing on her xanga a few months ago, that she felt like journalism was sucking all the style out of her. It's not that I can't write creatively anymore (obviously, or this blog would be dead,) it's that when I go to write things for class, I get all confused.

And to make things worse, I'm getting a double dose of writing concisely. As expected, I get it in journalism every day, but my English professor is also trying to get us to stop using 10 words when we can use two. All of this is a good thing, but now it means I can't bring myself to b.s. my way through papers like we college students are famous for doing. I remember writing what I thought were long-winded, convoluted 40-word sentences that when I really read them, said absolutely nothing. But somehow, my professors didn't see it that way and I'd end up getting an A. But now, more for personal benefit instead of teacher requirements, I find myself deleting word after word in my papers. Even worse, I feel like I'm losing my vocabulary. I'm working on this take-home essay for my government class, and I feel like I'm using the same three words to describe my topic. I keep thinking of definitions of the words I need, but not the actual words themselves.

I guess this means that thing called learning has finally taken hold in my brain, for better or worse.

On a totally unrelated note - last night, while I was watching the Yankees game, I was also ironing clothes, and this is a reminder to all - beware of multitasking, especially when it involves hot appliances. I had just finished ironing a shirt and was reaching my arm across the ironing board to fold it while my eyes were glued to the screen, and OUCH. My arm grazed the rim of the hot iron and I now have an ugly two inch brown burn across my right arm. I'm not really sure if it's ever going to go away. But hey, I'll always remember this baseball game now. (See, I always look on the bright side of things.)

Yanks Are Back and Torre Stays

Nothing like the threat of losing your job to whip the best baseball team back into shape. It took them a little while but the real Yankees are back. I won't pretend like the last two games didn't worry me, but New York didn't fight back this season for no reason. Yes the Indians' pitching put a stronghold on the Yankees bats and those damn bugs screwed them up, but the Bronx Bombers are back and ready to fight. There's a reason why this was the only division series that wasn't swept, and there's a reason why this is the postseason. The offense is back, the pitching is on point and this right here is what I've been looking forward to all season.

So take that Mamu - you may love the Indians and hate the Yankees, but your team's not gonna get off that easily. This is the Yankees they're dealing with and we want this World Series bad.

(If only I wasn't a complete retard and left both my jersey AND cap at home last weekend....meaning I can't broadcast my Yankee pride to the entire campus tomorrow :(

Great Expectations

I've never been one to handle criticism well. I know that in many instances criticism is what helps us grow and improve and in the long run, it's a pretty good thing. But for me, the tiniest mistake, the smallest misstep used to completely negate any of the positives. It didn't matter that I got six As on my report card; the only thing I would think about was that one B. It never mattered that I got a 94 percent on an exam; those three questions I got wrong would haunt me for days.

Last summer Karen told me about how at her internship, every time she handed her editor an article, he would tell her it was great and that’s it. She said she would much rather have him scribble all over it and tell her what she did wrong so she could learn. I remember thinking to myself, how if I had a choice, I would much rather take the empty praise over the mauled article, no matter how much the mauling would help. Whether that means I’m insecure or whatever, I don’t know, nor do I very much care.

But it’s not just taking criticism, but also being responsible for your actions that kind of scares me. In this country we're all about transparency. Government documents are available for all to see, public hearings allow people share their view, officials' salaries and even tax returns are disclosed. Any whiff of scandal or corruption has the potential to explode into front-page news. A few weeks ago in my government class, my professor was touching on how opaque the UN is, how you really don't know how much money the Secretary-General makes or where exactly does UNICEF's budget go to. And that's when I realized how important transparency and ultimately accountability really is.

It's very easy for us to take all the credit when something good happens, when our team wins the game or our group is the most successful at raising money. But, we all know that when things turn rough, everyone's favorite hobby becomes finger pointing and blaming the guy next to them. It takes a really strong person to stand up and accept the blame. Accept that they lost the box with all the supplies or they gave out wrong directions.

I always thought I was a strong person, but I've learned lately that being that person isn't as easy as it looks. It's hard, especially when you're a perfectionist / overachiever like me, to accept that failure was your fault. It's almost easier to accept in a personal situation, when you're the only one involved. Yes, I know, I can't blame anyone else because I didn't study hard enough and subsequently bombed an exam. But when you have to acknowledge to a group that you're the reason why things didn't work, that you're the reason why they failed and that you let them down, that's rough.

I bring this up for two reasons. First, in my journalism class, we've moved beyond the typical institution stories, covering the cops and the courts, to more issue-based stories. I've kind of latched onto this one huge issue in my beat, an issue involving imposing more taxes on a community to pay off the infrastructure that the developer built in their community. It's a very confusing issue involving legal jargon, zoning and bond-issuance, something most people in my shoes would probably shy away from covering. Each side, the residents and the county government, has a valid point, in my opinion, and I'm glad I'm witnessing this whole mess instead of actually being involved in it. As I've been researching this issue, I've been talking to a lot of people on both sides, and after hearing that I'm only writing this up for a class, many of them have asked to see my articles.

I told them yes, but I was a little nervous at the thought. Putting it on paper and letting the people who I interview see it makes the whole thing very real. What if I misinterpreted them or what if I include something they said that they didn't want me to. Well, says the pig-headed side of my brain, you told them you were a journalism student so they knew very well that their words could be used. And this is where it goes back to not only taking criticism, but also sticking up for yourself. If someone is unhappy at the way I portrayed them, sure, to some degree I can learn from the experience, but ultimately, my job as a journalist isn't to make everyone look good.

Sometimes you do have to make people mad. Sometimes you do have to cut them off when they go off on tangents. Sometimes you do have to ask them the difficult questions, present them with the other side's case. And these are all things that I'm not really that good at. I don't like making people mad, and I especially don't like it when they get mad at me. So I listen, I listen to them explain me why their side is the only side and why the government has everything all wrong. But I can't bring myself to ask them if they read the fine print of their mortgage and found out that yes, they might have to pay extra taxes. I can't bring myself to ask them if they would rather wait 20 years and have the county spend double the money to build their roads. I just can't do it because I can't make people mad.

And then there's that whole fear of failure thing, and not being able to handle when things are your fault. Today my research team was supposed to hand our surveys at this event we went to today. But after our mentor rushed to get them approved for us, there was a mix-up this morning and we couldn't actually locate the finalized survey. But beyond just that, a lot of things with our research project have not gone as planned, and it's because none of us (myself included) have really put forth 110 percent of our effort. Therein lies the flaw with group work, and regardless of all that more people means more creativity b.s., I will always hate group work because I think it's easier just to get things done on my own. I feel bad because I know if I were doing this project on my own, there are certain things I would have done differently, and there are certain things I would have taken more seriously. But I will also admit that I have at times, let this research project sink a couple of notches on my priority list. And even though I know our mentor is not going to chew us out, but she will gently encourage us in the right direction, I'm still going to be mad at myself. Despite the fact that our whole team consists of overachievers and our research goals were probably too optimistic anyways, I'm still not going to handle accepting the reality of where we are too well.

It is so hard being a perfectionist. Really, I'm not even being sarcastic. It sucks.