Untitled I am a journalist. I wake up everyday loving who I am. Not what I do, but who I am. Is there not a fine line between love and hate? I get up early and take a walk around my neighborhood. Some people look angry inside their cars driving out of their driveways going to work. I pity them. I never work. Yet I am always paid, every day. Well. Fine you got me, every other day. My Life Changing Experience Having the opportunity to meet and speak to so many people in the journalism business made such a difference in my life of trying to make it into the business; especially speaking to someone so motivating and full of life such as Michael Quintanilla. On my first visit to Washington, D.C., I had the chance to meet with this wonder man who really has inspired me to keep on following my dreams of being a great and respected journalist. Being able to hear to his wonderful presentation of “Joys of Journalism” was so inspiring to me because many times I have felt that I won’t have the support or ability to make my dreams come true. Untitled On August 4, 2004, I was mad. Not mad really, no red eyes and steaming ears, but I was frustrated. I knew that this conference would be a great experience and learning opportunity, but I had also come to realize that I would not know anyone there. I’ve been working on my bravery and risk-taking skills since… well most of my life and knew I’d made progress. However, I was sick and tired of being the one to utter the big H-I. Why did I have to start conversations? Why did I have to introduce myself? Couldn’t people just gravitate towards me? Did I have a sign on my forehead that said, “Do not address this girl, she will approach you first?” So for the first day, I was determined not to talk to anyone. I knew there were other lonely, isolated, nervous people there, so I was waiting for them to come to me. To make a long and slightly depressing story short, that didn’t go so well and I decided to go back to saying hi and hello (quite simple words when you think about it, but much easier spelled than spoken). “In Days of Old ...” Being a young person nowadays is quite different from forty, sixty or even ten years ago. Not only have the fashions changed but also the way people, especially the youth, treat each other. Beyond Words ... I don’t think there are any words to describe fully what being an adolescent in this era of time is like. It is truly beyond words. With all the emotions and drama that happen to us on a daily basis words just simply aren’t enough. We go through so much more than what the adults around us see. I know some adults may think that they know or understand us, but that is not true. Unfortunately, we have so much more thrown at us then anyone can imagine. Now we have been fully prepped for those challenges. Adults like to categorize the young adults based on appearance and it is unfair. The era in which they were brought up is a 360 degrees turn. It just simply isn’t the same. Adults like to pretend or “fake,” as we young people like to phrase it as, as if they weren’t once in adolescence with the parties and the peer pressure. It’s sometimes scary because the violence is at a higher rate and it’s done for no apparent reason. There is no comparison from then to now but to explain what it’s like for us. Untitled Very seldom does one recognize a life-altering event in the process. But when it happens, when eyes and ears stilt up and paste open, the person in question almost always feels fulfilled, in tune with time and the ultimate "flow of things." This moment came for me on a molded concrete bench in Bayville Park, Va., during the wet summer of 1998.
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¿Porque periodista? Antes de iniciar mis pensamientos. Quisiera agradecer a Hispanic Link Journalism Foundation por esta maravillosa oportunidad que les ha dado a tantos jóvenes de conocer el mundo del periodismo. En realidad esta convención fue una de las experiencias que más me ha marcado como estudiante de periodismo ya que es muy diferente saber que hay periodistas que admiramos y que han logrado lo que nosotros queremos lograr, a en realidad llegar a conocerlos. También es importante que sean ellos los que nos animen a seguir adelante con nuestras metas y anhelos. Untitled In the beginning I was a bit apprehensive about participating in the creating future journalists program, it being put together by the Hispanic link journalism foundation. I was under the impression that I would be the only black person there, which always creates a problem for me. At my school I am often the only black person due to the challenge that the classes present, and the pressure to represent my whole race is on. I’m not like the appointed representative for black people everywhere, but for some odd reason I always feel like it’s my duty to assume that responsibility, to let everyone know that we are intelligent and just as good as they are. With all of this in mind it was a struggle for me to get on the King Street metro train, the thought of me once again being the black ambassador made me nauseous. But the prospect of me actually getting something out of the program pulled me on the train as if my sudden optimism had become its own gravity. Untitled It's not unusual to be quickly judged as soon as I step into my car and drive off into the busy streets of Silver Spring. It seems like the world has forgotten who they really are, or maybe simply have chosen to ignore their past completely. I see it as they just want to forget that they were once my age, sixteen and licensed, heading into an unknown world of knowledge. They want to stay in their adulthood and go along as they have for the past 20 some odd years. A Realization There comes a day in every young person’s life when they realize they are truly following their heart and deepest desires. By following their heart, it is certain that they will receive the greatest satisfaction one could hope for. That day for me came when I attended the UNITY: Journalists of Color Convention. I discovered things about my dreams and about myself as well. This convention not only opened my heart, but also opened my mind to new thoughts about journalism. A Dying Soul I awaken to a pitch black room filled with my worthless articles that occupies precious space. “Another day of writing”, I say with a deep breath. I question my reason for life as I do every morning, unable to give an answer I slowly climb out of bed. But, this morning differed from others for I pondered upon that question longer than usual. After my morning shower I had one blueberry muffin and a small glass of orange juice. I entered my silver Mercedes and was off to the place where my happiness was stolen. (My job) It was a job many only dreamed of for it paid well and had wonderful benefits. Creando un mundo mejor Como quisiera ver un mundo mejor, un mundo lleno de alegría, en donde todos podamos vivir en unión y paz. Poder escuchar el cantar del viento, y ver cada mañana el sol radiante, un mundo en el que los animales sean libres, un mundo libre de contaminación, en el que pueda respirar el aire limpio, de un cielo azul, un mundo libre de todos estos males que están destruyendo nuestro mundo hoy en día. ¿Pero algún día podré? ¿Podré realmente ver algún día un mundo mejor? Un Mañana Mejor Caminando por el mundo, veo la vida en un segundo, confundida veo la vida que va desentendida, veo como la gente destruye el mundo, como nos dedicamos a cubrir el mundo de dolor, veo que el mundo está lleno de engaño y corrupción, o que miles de niños solo se alimentan con un frijol y pienso el racismo tiene que acabar, son detalles de la vida que deben de cambiar.
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