The power of positive thinking

Some say when you really, really want something, you need to set your mind upon getting it. Positive visualization and all that.

Last night, while watching reruns of Criminal Minds before bed, I was poking around various websites out of sheer boredom when I stumbled on HigherEdJobs.com. And I thought, "What the hell, it's been a good three months since I've tackled the fruitless task of conducting a job search, so why not?"

And there, I found it... my dream job (sort of!) right here in Springfield.

Because I have both a full-time and part-time job that more or less covers my living expenses, I have given myself the luxury of time as far as the job search has gone. In the last three years or so, I've applied to countless positions, some of which I really wanted, others I know I was barely qualified for, just to say I've been looking. But it's always been with the thought that I don't have to settle for something I don't really want... unless the salary is too good to pass up.

On a whim, I logged into HigherEdJobs.com and found an Editorial Assistant position open at Springfield College. The job description reads as follows:

Under general supervision, prepares written material for publication, performing any one of the following duties: copyedits and proofreads to detect errors in spelling, punctuation, and syntax; verifies facts, dates, and statistics using standard reference sources; rewrites or modifies copy to conform to publication's style and editorial policy and marks copy for design, using standard symbols; maintains photography files, selects photography upon request, builds relationships with photographers and assigns and assists in photo shoots; prepares updated drafts of text upon request; serves as compiler of Class News & Notes for the College's flagship magazine; utilizes advanced computerized word processing programs and techniques to produce documents and/or narrative materials.
This position requires a minimum of an A.A. degree or equivalent with a minimum of three years related experience preferred. Strong knowledge of Chicago Manual of Style, Associate Press style, and punctuation and syntax. Familiarity with Macintosh software programs that impact design (Photoshop, Illustrator, Quark) helpful but not essential to performing the duties of the position. Position requires: a) Utilizing computerized graphic programs or word processing in the development and formatting of reports and documents; b) compiling and preparing text from copy, notes, voice, or other format; and c) proofreading and editing documents in accordance with pre-set guidelines. 

If that's not the perfect job for me, I don't know what is. The added benefit, of course, is that the job is at a college -- which has been the primary focus of my search so far. Ideally, I'd like to go back to school and get my master's degree or another bachelor's degree, and working at the college level would likely only aid me in that mission. 

So, to whatever higher power is looking down on my life -- I want this job. I know it's perfect for me and I'm perfect for it. Let's throw a little luck my way this time, huh?

Keep your friends close...

For the last month or so, a friend of mine has been crashing on my couch and now that she's packed up her stuff and moved back home, I feel... lost.

When I first offered her the option of staying with me (due to circumstances I won't discuss here), I felt apprehensive because I've never been the type of person who liked having a roommate. Just the thought of having someone invade my personal space was enough to give me heart palpitations, but I figured she was in a bind and I was in a position where I could help, so I did. During the period of time that she spent with me, I learned a lot about myself and I can honestly say I'm a better person for having had her around.

I think there's something to be said for friendships that are built on similarities. What I didn't know prior to this experience is that she and I are a lot alike. We're both writers who work tirelessly to put out the best quality of news possible, despite the usual hardships full-time writers face. Outside of work, we both enjoy reading (she brought a huge pile of books with her to my house, for which I was thankful because I found a few interesting novels to read) and we both seem to be unlucky in love. It's refreshing to talk to someone who understands exactly how that can negatively affect my overall outlook on life. Plus just having someone around to talk to and laugh with was nice, I won't lie.

Now that she's "moved out," I find myself bored with my same old routine. Quality alone time is important, but I crave company. I want more than anything to go out and do something, anything... but what?

Promotion

It only took me five years but I am officially a full-fledged editor! Well, almost.

Last month, on a random Friday, I was called into the publisher's office for a meeting. Almost immediately, my pessimistic mind began thinking of the worst and I started mentally preparing myself for how I was going to break the news to my family and friends that I had been fired. So imagine my surprise when I walk into the conference room and my boss  — the owner of the company — asked if I'd be interested in taking over the editorship of one of our papers. While I'm not quite sure what happened to the previous editor (if pressed, I'd venture a guess that he was fired) I really don't care. I have my own paper now.... with a staff! OK, so they're freelancers, not full-timers, but still...

I'm still breathless over the whole thing.

I haven't actually started at the new paper, as I'm still acting in my current role of assistant editor of the Journal, but starting Jan. 3, I'll be on my own. The new year will bring with it whole new challenges, I can't wait.

Putting things in perspective

Yesterday, I sent Doc a text message asking how work was going (he's doing a rotation in emergency medicine - ew!) and his response was: "Well I haven't killed anybody yet." Wonderful. That's what I like to hear! Rock on!

This succinct declaration made me feel slightly better about some of my job stress lately. Because while it would be terrible for a news brief or other news item not to make it into the paper, the lack of its appearance isn't going to hurt anybody, much less kill them. If I screw up it's just a tiny blip on the radar. If Doc makes an error at his job, however, somebody's life is at stake.

He's such a good boyfriend; always helping me to put things into perspective.

I can breathe deeply now... good air in, bad air out.... ahhhhhh.

Today I came into work to learn about a few mistakes in this week's paper:

1. The fire logs ran under a police log header. Oops. A minor issue; happens to the best of us.
2. A child was incorrectly identified in a photo spread. I haven't gotten this confirmed because nobody approached me directly about it, but a friend of a friend happened to mention it. Nothing I can do unless someone tells me about it. Besides, I didn't take the photo, I just ran what the correspondent provided me.
3. Three obits were left out of the paper. All three were e-mailed earlier this week when we had e-mail problems and weren't received on time to be included. Easily rectified because I can run them next week, but the funeral home director still wasn't happy and (I think) we ended up losing an ad over it. I did have the foresight to run a brief on our front page about e-mail problems so hopefully I can't be found at fault for it.

Thank you to the individuals who pointed out my faults, I truly appreciate it. Now I'd like to pose this question: Was there anything good about the paper this week? Or was my 40-hours of hell all for naught? 

I'm sure come Monday I'll hear about a whole number of other errors but I'm inclined to say "whatever" at this point. Let's be happy with the fact that there is a paper to criticize this week, huh? I put one out. Kudos to me because that was no small feat!

Now, who wants to celebrate with some wine? 

Murphy's Law

Anything that can go wrong will go wrong, that's the way it goes right?

That's the way it's been since my editor left for vacation last Thursday. On Friday morning, just as I was getting out of bed to shower and come to work, the power went out. Given that I live only a half a mile from work I assumed (correctly) that they had no electricity either. I got into work after showering by scented-candle light (ambiance and a sweet-smelling bathroom, you can't go wrong) and discovered the source of the outage was a tree that took down a pole and wires behind our building by the railroad tracks. I waited around for a good five hours before declaring the day a lost cause and going home.

Once I got home, I still had no power, so I spent the afternoon and early evening vacillating between relaxation and depression. I don't mind sitting at home alone with a few candles lit (and by a few, I mean about 20), but I've decided I can't live without my TV/DVD player. Luckily, Doc rescued me by taking me out to dinner and by the time we returned home at 9:30 p.m., power was restored.

Since I don't have Internet access at home, I spent the rest of the weekend mentally preparing myself for the week ahead, especially after losing an entire day of writing/processing materials. On Monday, I came into the office, booted up my computer, and was immediately alerted to e-mail server problems. Instead of fighting with my mail program, I tried to check my alternate e-mail, only to discover I couldn't so much as access Google. Immediately, I felt it... The waves of nausea washed over me as I tried to consider my options. What were my options? It was Monday and I had just two days to pull together an entire week's newspaper. And without e-mail, there was no paper.

Yesterday was moderately successful — I got a lot of processing/writing/editing done — if you discount the fact that I waited a good four hours to obtain one of my police logs. We can't not run our police log; it had to get done, which means I made a nuisance of myself badgering the poor emergency dispatcher until someone faxed over what I was looking for.

That brings us up to today... Wednesday/Production Day. Today marks the end of my first week in charge and I can barely look back on the last several days without wanting to vomit or cry, both of which would be completely inappropriate at my desk at work. It'll have to wait til I get home.

Just six more days of hell.

In an instant

Yesterday, I left work with what I have come to call a "feeling of impending doom," that knot in my chest that tells me something bad is about to happen. And last night, something did.

Perhaps I've developed a sixth sense about these things given I've spent the last four years of my life working as a police reporter, but I've felt this sense of doom on at least two other occasions, and both instances ended tragically.

Last night, while waiting for the premiere of Grey's Anatomy, my fears were confirmed: I heard the local fire department get dispatched for a motor vehicle accident with possible entrapment. I grabbed a sweatshirt, found my shoes and sped off into the night, wondering what I would encounter when I arrived in the area of the crash. As I rounded a bend in the road, I saw the familiar strobing red and blue lights of the fire trucks and police cruisers. I stashed my car in a parking lot about a quarter of a mile away from the accident and jogged down towards the emergency apparatus haphazardly parked in the middle of the road, careful not to get in anybody's way.

Though I only stayed for about 15 minutes, watching the emergency crews work to pull the victims from the two cars using the Jaws of Life, I felt almost immediately the severity of the situation. I didn't speak to anyone; I stayed as far away from the crash as possible (at least as far as my camera lens would allow, given I had to get a photo for the paper), but I could still hear the frantic calls of the EMTs and paramedics who were attending to the crash victims, and their voices told me everything.

By the time I got to work this morning, I already knew the accident had claimed the life of at least two people. Two more people were seriously injured. I can't help but shudder at the knowledge and feel sad that in an instant, the lives of so many people were forever changed.

Because of my job, I often face realities some people like to ignore: death is a part of life. I've covered countless accidents and fires that resulted in fatalities and still more that caused very serious injuries, so I know all too well how fragile life really is. I've been to murder scenes and have reported on stabbings and attempted murders. I've seen a lot. We all like to think it'll never happen to us, but the reality is at some point in our life we, too, will be faced with a life-changing situation.

I could easily have been the victim in last night's crash; I drive down that road if not every day then at least several times a week. What if it was me? What if it was someone I know and love?

Last night I learned a valuable lesson at the expense of another: we are not invincible. All it takes is an instant.

Vulnerabilities

I don't know how to separate my personal life from my professional life. Being a journalist is who I am; there's no getting around that. And when something happens at work, however innocuous it may seem, it's likely to also affect me personally. That's who I am.

Today, someone at work asked me about an accident I've been unsuccessful at obtaining information about from the police department. It happened last Thursday and I called several times last week and again this week (on deadline) but to no avail. Instead of worrying about it, I concentrated on the other stories I was finishing up for tomorrow's paper. But when I was unable to provide information to my curious co-worker, she said, "Fine, I'll call [the daily newspaper reporter] to find out."

I was flummoxed. I had a pretty good idea that the accident wasn't a fatal (the police would have issued a press release if that was the case), so I don't see what the big deal is. There are countless accidents in town on a daily basis — many that look worse than they actually are — and we don't cover every single incident. However, the fact that she would cast me aside so quickly and run to my competition for information stung me a little more than I would like to admit.

Say what you want about me — that I'm overly sensitive or over-emotional — but these are the attributes I possess that I feel make me a good writer. Not a great writer, certainly, but a good one. These are also the attributes that have prevented me from developing the "thick skin" journalists need in order to survive in this industry. I take it personally whenever anyone slights my paper or criticizes my writing. That said I should also admit I let it go to my head whenever the paper receives a commendation (however rare that may be).

Whenever I go anywhere with my friends in the towns I cover (and sometimes even surrounding towns) I'm introduced as "Jen from the Journal." One of my friends refers to me as "Jen Paper" and another calls me simply, "Journal Jen." I write a weekly column about my perspective on life in the community and with that column (aptly titled Journaling with Jen), my photo also runs. It’s obvious that my paper is my life and my life is my paper. I can't help it. I don't know any other way to exist. I'd be lost without my job.

The cracks in my emotional veneer are starting to show, though, and I don’t know how to stop them from getting bigger. Lately, I’ve received countless positive e-mails about different pieces I’ve written, and I’m thankful for every one, but whenever anyone criticizes me in even the slightest way, it’s all I can do to keep from bursting into tears and running home to hide under the covers. Strangers have the capacity to render me virtually incoherent with grief simply by uttering a few negative words.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately as I contemplate my future. I don’t know where I want to go from here. I can’t say for certain that I want to continue on as a newspaper reporter, however much I may enjoy it now. The job itself is fun (if you ignore the constantly pressing deadlines and the having to deal with idiots), but I need to have a purpose in life and having fun doesn’t really fit in with my lofty life goals.

Note: I’m not talking career ambitions, here. After four years of performing the same menial tasks and several (failed) attempts at advancement, I’ve decided to let go of many of my professional goals…at least for the time being. But therein lies the rub. If I don’t know how to be anyone other than Jen from the Journal, if I don’t know how to exist outside of my job, how can I ever move on from it?

I heard somewhere recently that the problem with being a deep thinker is it leaves you vulnerable to the existential crisis. I can’t help but feeling that that’s what I’m experiencing now. Who am I and where am I going? And more importantly, how am I going to get there when I’m stuck here…in a rut?

Going up in smoke...the end of the summer slowdown

I've been caught up in the media blitz surrounding those alleged firefighter arsonists in Brimfield/Holland. This is the big news story I've been craving all summer and yet I can't help but feel the slightest twinge of remorse when looking at the five individuals involved. They're just kids and anything I write will just contribute to the public backlash...

Found out about the whole thing last Thursday night, barely slept, and after digging for what seemed like hours for information on Friday morning, made it to court in time for their arraignment at noon. I hate covering arraignments. It's a lot of sitting around wondering what information the other media has obtained and how they got it and whether or not you can infiltrate their source to get it too. The actual arraignment itself is too much of a blur to make sense of initially -- it usually lasts under five minutes. Spent some time talking to the assistant district attorney and the state trooper assigned to the fire marshal's office before going to fight with the court clerk staff (the rudest collection of women I've ever met in my life) to get a hold of court documents before heading back to work. That was my Friday in a nutshell. I got back to the office around 1:30-2 p.m. and settled down to make sense of the whole thing so as to write about it coherently. Finished writing in about an hour. It's a tough job...

This arson thing is huge news around here. 7News and Channel 4 in Boston both picked up the story, as did the Boston Globe, which is saying something. Typically Boston news ignores Western Mass. Hell, for the most part it ignores Worcester. I can't help but feel slightly smug about the fact that my company has the story because of me and my penchant for chasing fires. As of right now, it's slated to run in three of our papers, including mine. And I've decided since it's such a big news story, I might as well capitalize on it while I can and wrote a column about it as well...

So long summer slowdown!

Ramblings

I'm in denial that it's now September, which means summer is officially over....or will be once Labor Day passes this weekend.

This has been a crazy busy week at work and I have to admit, I'm thankful for it. I didn't realize how much stress I was under this summer worrying about filling the pages of my paper with news that, well, wasn't really news. That quote about journalism being nothing more than meeting the challenge of filling space really hit home for me over the last couple months. With the beginning of school though and an increase in fire-related stories, I've had my hands full with writing (and re-writing!) and it's been glorious. I've been coming into work these last few days with a new-found sense of alacrity.

September always reminds me of how much I miss being a student, though. I loved learning and seeing my friends every day and knowing exactly what was going to happen day after day. School is the most structured I've ever been in my life and I crave structure. Re-reading that sentence makes me wonder why I ever chose a career in writing. There's nothing about this job that can be considered structured, and yet I enjoy it....immensely.

Perhaps I will work to set up my own sense of structure. Despite being in the middle of the calendar year, I see September as being a time of new beginnings. Maybe I'll capitalize on that and begin something new.

My dad recently secured a new laptop that he is going to rehab and give to me. I always told him my excuse for not tackling my dream of writing the next great American novel is that I don't have access to a computer of my own on which to do it. Now, for all intents and purposes, he's eliminated my excuse for not settling down and writing. If I give myself just an hour each day to write, I could finish a book in no time... We'll see what happens when I take possession of said computer this weekend.

In the meantime, I've challenged myself to read as much as possible. Yesterday I went to the library and came home with three "chick lit" novels. I'm already half-way through one and I can't wait to pick up the others. One of the books I rented I've already read (twice!) but this time I won't be reading it for enjoyment; it's more of a lesson in word choice, plot lines, character development, etc. We'll see how it works out for me. Doc is leaving for a camping trip with his friends for the long weekend, so I'll have ample time to read. I can't wait... I'm such a nerd.

News about town

A couple weeks ago, I was complaining about the dearth of newsworthy events happening in my towns, which meant little to actually write about. Today, I'm complaining about the opposite: too much news; not enough me.

I arrived at work this morning with a feeling of intense anxiety. My habit of creating to-do lists is helpful (in theory) at keeping track of all the stories I have to write on a weekly basis, but it proves to be a bit counter-productive when I'm continuously adding to it, thus adding to my anxiety. What's the point of writing a list to cross items off of when I'm never going to actually finish said list? It's like the Energizer bunny, it just keeps going and going and, well, you get the idea... Today, when I arrived at my desk and set up my laptop, I realized the list I had been working on before I left work Friday was more than half-completed. Only two stories remained unfinished and I had all the necessary information for them, all I had to do was write them. Oh joy! My anxiety lifted with that realization. I could relax!

Fast forward two minutes when I open my e-mail to find a message from my editor, subject line: Last minute story idea.... oh good grief, really?

Almost immediately, I felt my chest tighten and my heart rate spike. I no sooner finish writing one story that I get assigned two more. And once those two are finished, I'll likely be assigned two more....each. That's four extra stories for those of you keeping track.

They say when it rains, it pours. Well, today I'm getting drenched.

That motor vehicle fire story I wrote about last week? ... I had to rework it today when there was another motor vehicle fire in the same neighborhood days later. I took 131 photos at the first fire; for the second I'll admit I got lazy and only took 30 pictures. And last night the local fire department was dispatched for smoke in a building. I only went out of sheer curiosity, but managed to get a clear, crisp photo with "the good camera." I may enjoy following the fire department around but what I forget is that once I get these pictures, I have to A) sort through them and B) write about them. Kinda kills the fun, in retrospect.

On a lighter note, Jim Parsons won for best actor in a comedy series during the Emmys last night, which thrilled me to no end. I shrieked with joy when they announced his name. I'm not kidding, ask Doc. I'm surprised he can hear today...

Uh oh...  My editor just placed an obituary notice on my desk; I'm guessing I have to write it. See what I mean? I better type slowly, lest two more obits arrive upon its completion.

To work, to work, to work I go...

The Friday Five

1) Yesterday, I did the unthinkable: I shut off my cell phone. It's back on now, sure (was, in fact, on within five hours of my self-imposed power outage), but the fact remains... I did it. And I survived. I am a bit attached to my cell phone. I don't go anywhere without it. It's always always attached to my hand. Without it, I feel a disconnect from the world at large. No Google, no Facebook, no text? What's a girl to do? Usually, I'm all about being connected. Yesterday, though, I just wanted some space. I feel smothered by my cell phone, strange as it is to say. When I can't go more than three minutes without glancing down to check if I've received any messages, I know there's a problem... It may only have been a few hours without it, but hey, it's all about baby steps, right?

2) An editor friend at work left me a surprise yesterday after I'd left the office for the afternoon. Came back last night out of boredom (yes, when I have nothing to do at home, I drive the half-mile distance between my apartment and my office and try to at least look like the uber-busy newspaper reporter/editor I pretend to be). Upon my return, I found an envelope with my name scrawled in green highlighter...(ooohh! Intrigue!). Its contents -- a collage of photos/captions from one of the company's papers -- made my night. I've been on a crusade these last few weeks at work to clean up some of the sports' section photo captions. The lack of creativity that goes into writing them (as highlighted in the collage so thoughtfully put together for me) is a huge pet peeve of mine. Take for example these three captions...all from the same paper (yes, same issue!) in a nine-photo spread. I don't need to bother showing you the pictures, I'm sure you can figure them out for yourselves. Caption One: "Dalton steps into a big kick with his right foot." UGHHHH...Really? How about Caption Two: "Ethan steps into a kickoff with his right foot." You've got to be kidding me with this. And finally, Caption Three: "Dillion steps into a kickoff with his right foot." Wow... Bad, right? And yet, not nearly as bad as this gem, which I found in the pages of my paper this week: "[She] pumps her right arm into the air as she stands over the ball." I died a little inside when I read that one... no wonder print journalism is a dying art.

3) Started reading Jane Eyre last night. How is it possible I've managed to live these 27 years, an avid reader and English/Literature major in college, without ever reading Jane Eyre? I should probably admit I haven't read Wuthering Heights either, so clearly I've been ignoring the Bronte sisters. Unjustly, I might add. I am a big fan of female writers (probably because I aspire to be one of the greats) but even today, I feel they get treated poorly compared to their male counterparts. Think of some of the greatest women writers in history: Austin, the Bronte sisters, and Wharton to name a few... theirs are some of the most powerful stories, written in intelligent, imaginative language. Look at the content, though. If those novels were written today, they'd fall in the "Chick Lit" category, I'm sure. So why are contemporary female writers not revered like their classic female and even contemporary male counterparts? The books written by some of my favorite authors today are categorized as "beach reads," something mindless to read during summer vacations at the Cape. Yet books by the likes of Dan Brown, Dean Koontz, Jonathan Franzen or James Patterson are listed as must reads? I'm not at all implying that they can't write well, I'm just pointing out the discrepancy. I'll come out and say it: I like the chick lit novels... both the classics and contemporaries. Perhaps I'm just nerdy like that...

4) Coming off two weeks of intense writing/reporting efforts on my part for the mass-marketing editions of my newspaper, I find myself exceptionally rundown. The truthfulness of that statement hit me hard last night when I went home and passed out on the couch for a good two hours...Oreo contented himself with sleeping on the small of my back and I was too exhausted to move him. Today, I sit at work counting the hours until a respectable time at which I can head home to nap. What is going on here? I can hardly think straight I'm so tired. Exhaustion is so not conducive to good writing...

5) I suddenly have an intense craving for onion rings. I ordered some with my sub yesterday at lunch, and that didn't so much quell them as it did exacerbate them. I love onion rings lately, which is funny because at one time I couldn't stand them. And yet, I can't help but salivate a little at the thought of them. It's not even noon and I'm in the mood for fried food... Sadly, though, I just can't justify eating them for breakfast.