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Showing posts from January, 2010

Lessons From My First 4 Articles

The past 4 weeks of my life have been non-stop chaos since I started working for Ohio State's student newspaper, The Lantern. Not just because I work for The Lantern (a privilege I pay Ohio State for), but because I also work 17 hours a week, have two other classes plus homework, 3 church meetings a week, a home to care for (which is looking distinctly neglected), a husband to love, and this apparently insignificant thing called a social life. I have been crying, ranting, angry, and clawing to keep my head above water, but I think I'm finally catching the quick stride.

In all the madness, I've learned I LOVE the process of writing articles, every single thing about it. I love researching and drafting the questions to ask, having an excuse to talk to such interesting people, the delight of scribbling down very real and beautiful quotes, and the process of assembling it all into an article. It is the most wonderful combination of humanity and the art of writing.

Here are 8 thi…

lasting work

At the lawyer's office, sometimes my work, sometimes hours of work, comes back to me with the request that I recycle what I so painstakingly organized with tabs and numbers and papercuts.

I don't care about title commitments. But I am sad when my work just ends up being dumped into a trash bag in the end. It may not be important or interesting work, but I have a desire for my work to last, to matter.

Writing has that potential. But someday my work will really last. I will no longer be beating the air "shadowboxing" as Paul says it. I'll see what gets burned up and what remains/lasts.

Thanksgiving: Part Three - POSTPONED

Sorry about the delay, folks.

Due to technical difficulties, it might be a while until this third Thanksgiving entry is posted. I would like to do it justice, because it's a good story, but I don't want to sit on my hands until the kinks get worked out.

I will let you know when Part Three is perfected and posted. Until then, I'm going to plow ahead with other entries.

Thanks for your patience, all.


Thanksgiving: Part Two

Dave and I padded down the seven cream-carpeted stairs and joined the rest of the grandchildren around the TV. My brother and cousin Jake had eyes riveted to the screen, elbows extended, thumbs a blur: the Boyer competition had already been aroused in a James Bond video game. My 17-year-old sister lay sleeping on the pale yellow-and-blue striped couch, long brown hair concealing her face and the shoulders of her wine-red cowl neck sweater. My youngest cousin, Libby, was abosrbed in the smaller screen of her pink and heavily-stickered PSP. This down here was our sanctuary before dinner, we 6 of the 9 grandchildren, when you count Dave. Unfortunately, I knew I couldn't hide for long in the basement. As the now-married oldest granddaughter, I had fallen in a gap where I was no longer a child but not quite an adult. But it still meant that I had to go upstairs.
It was a pleasant surprise to find the kitchen a well-oiled machine, my father videotaping as my uncle and father shuffled a s…