My Summer

Apartment ✔

Job ✔

Internship ✔

Car ---

Income $insufficient

Love ????

Six Word Memoir

Worthy of love despite bent wings

Thank You

When I leave, you will probably not know how much you inspired me. You will have no idea that I remember small things you said, and that I will probably think about your words for a long time. You won't know when I say goodbye that you have helped change me, but one day I hope you do. And if you do know that this is about you, then this is me saying Thank You.

Touristy Weekend

This past weekend I played tourist in my own town. I live on capitol hill, yet have not fully embraced where I live this semester. So, this weekend I embraced tourist season. I bought a sweatshirt went to four museums and watched people do yoga on the National Mall. It was pretty typical.

Friday our class went to the Newseum. I was really excited about this opportunity. A whole museum on my profession and the first amendment just sounds exciting to begin with. It was even better than expected. My only criticism is that junior high students were flooding the place.

I was completely inspired though. Journalism has been my dream since I was five. I wanted to travel the world, write about people’s problems and document life as it happened. This has always been important to me.

My insecurity and hesitancy to challenge people has been my downfall though. Until recently, I was scared to death to interview people. This semester has proven interviewing has been the least of my worries, since people on Capitol Hill love to talk.

I got over that fear of talking, but then the thought of being published and having words set in stone on the internet created a whole new kind of uneasiness. That’s why I sometimes stop blogging my life.

The Newseum reminded me of why I love journalism. It changes people and informs us. Even the industry of journalism has a story to tell. It is fascinating and has changed the way we live. Through freedom of press debates making information available to the public and social media creating protests in countries, journalism is a huge part of the world.

In the Newseum there is a map of the countries with free press, some free press and no free press. The map reminded me how easy I have it and that there is no reason for me to be scared of practicing my first amendment rights.

The Pulitzer prize photos were amazing. They were mostly devastating and depressing pictures, a couple who lost there child in the ocean, a lynching in Thailand, Columbine shooting students hugging, people jumping from buildings to escape fires and a decaying body in the grass. Images that you cannot easily erase from the mind.

The stories behind the photos were the most intriguing part of the exhibit. Walking through you first only see the images with some dates and locations. Some of the photographs are pretty self-explanatory, and others need additional stories to really explain the concept. I first say the picture of the African child with a vulture on the wall with all the photos, and then I saw the picture alone with its story.

The photojournalist, Kevin Carter captured the shot during a famine in Sudan. All the journalists had been told not to touch the because of disease. The child was curled up in a ball, a vulture had landed behind them. The photojournalist snapped the photo and then chased the vulture away. In response to the photograph, people asked, “why didn’t you pick up the child?” Soon after receiving the Pulitzer Prize, Carter committed suicide.

Depressing, but it makes me realize the type of courage journalists need to have. It also shows the lack of clarity between journalist and compassionate human. That is a challenge, especially as a Christian.

Then there was the 9/11 museum. I watched a documentary on the journalists who covered the report. They had to change from journalists to people. They cried in their interviews and had to stop filming and start helping. I cried the whole time.

I know the 9/11 story in and out. I remember it as if it was only a year ago, not 10. The Sudanese famine, I didn’t know. It’s journalists who bring awareness. It’s journalist who run towards the fire, go to the refugees, stay awake during earthquakes and keep asking why until they know enough to share. That’s what I love about it.

Afterwards, Emily and I went to see the National Archives. I was slightly unimpressed with the faded John Hancock, it was still something I am glad I got to see before it is completely invisible and faded.

We then went off to our last official taco night at the National Press Club. There were a gazillion other events occurring, so I just watched as other journalists came in and did there official business wondering what they were doing with their lives.

Saturday, Emily, Jenny and I got in line for out Holocaust Museum tickets. We weren’t going to get in until later though, so we went and bought souvenirs and took photographs with the beautiful cherry blossoms. The explosion of pink was the best.

Emily and I ended up at the American History Museum and got to see Abe Lincoln, boats and trains. It was a much more happier than the Newseum and the Holocaust Museum.

Then we went to the Holocaust Museum. Depressing. The worst part for me was the shoes. It smelt like leather and dirt. The voices of the survivors also made for some tearing up. It never ceases to amaze me that this was happening not even 60 years ago. It is even more hard to swallow that genocide still exists in parts of the world. People continue to treat one another like animals.

This also plays into the role of my desire to do journalism. Report all of the disturbing and troublesome things that happen in our world that we have the potential to change.

That night I went on another adventure with Josiah and Chris. We tried to meet up with people for fireworks, but a late bus, crazy lady and lack of communication hindered our original plans.

We get on the bus after waiting awhile and then a crazy lady comes on. She sits across from Chris and I in the back of the bus. She kicks her feet up and down pulls a piece of something in a plastic bag and starts hitting it against a pole that was right next to Josiah. She was speaking in Spanish for awhile and then was cursing out the United States and the three of us. Then she started playing the air piano and proceeded to pull something out of her bag, which may have been a knife or wrench, or some other type of metal object that could kill you. We got off as soon as possible.

We then tried to venture towards our friends who were on the other side of the water. We ended up at the fish market and were cold and lost. We then went and got food and walked home. Of course we managed to stop at some rocking chairs, and Josiah and Chris started singing and talking about grandma’s pie. I got it all on video, so I don’t need to dwell on their crazy ridiculousness.

Sunday, was much less mentally exhausting. I didn’t obtain too much more facts about the world or anything about museums. Kelsey and I went to Starbucks and discussed life, boys and our dream futures in DC.

This weekend just really enforced the fact that this is where I belong. This is what I need to do with my life, and I need to continue to pursue my goals. The people in my life are amazing, I live in a dream city and I get to write for my life. So, now I just need to figure out what’s next?

Night of epic fail

DC is all about the cultural experiences. So, when my friend Josiah, from the American Studies Program, suggested we go to a classical concert at the art gallery I thought it would be fun. Of course, nothing went right.

We get to the bus stop 10 minutes before the bus comes, or so we thought. It was gray outside, and the clouds were threatening to pour. We waited awhile, and thought it must be running late. Josiah had remember that he had forgotten he had no money on his Metro card, and quickly ran back to get some change. Then we look on the bus stop post, Josiah had looked up the Saturday schedule. We had to wait another 20 minutes.

Eventually, the bus came we almost sit on the back and see some green stain on the seat. Thankfully, we didn’t sit there. We safely arrived at our location, and walked in the decent drizzle of rain to the gallery.

The doors were locked. A man along with a guard walk up to the glass door and says something.

“What? We cannot hear you.”

Another lady, and then another man walk up to the door. The man on the other side tried to say something again. Finally, the guard realized that this would last forever and opened the door a crack. The man hesitantly peaked his head out and rudely said, “There are no more seats. We have a full house. I just looked and there isn’t a single seat.”

“Can we stand?”

“No. There are no seats. I just checked”

Naturally, the sky had followed through with it’s threat it was pouring. Well, mine as well make it worth our trip. Coffee sounded good, of course being down town Starbucks seemed like an unsatisfactory option. We walk around a bit pass a Starbucks and some gelato places, but it was too cold. We keep walking, optimistic that something has to be around. We end up at Starbucks. Order our drinks, and find there is no place to sit, even though there it’s two stories.

We walk to Dunkin’ Donuts. At least, we can get a donut, which might raise our spirits and drink coffee in warmth. A homeless man kept asking Josiah for money, who had to repeatedly explain he had no cash.

We ate our donuts and walked to the nearest D6 route bus stop. We find a stop, and use an retails awning for shelter from the rain. I looked up the estimated arrival on my phone, 21 minutes.

There is another Starbucks on the corner, not just any Starbucks though. Flashback, when I took the D6 to my internship I always passed this Starbucks downtown. It was open and brick and in a nice location. I really wanted to go here, and was excited when I realized I was entering it, even though it had been a rough night.

We go to sit down near a window. “Excuse ma’am. I need to clean this table. We are closing that’s why everyone is leaving,” said the Starbucks employee.

It was only 7:30. What Starbucks closes at 7:30?

We go back to our awning and wait.

“Well, at least this night can’t get any worse,” said Josiah. “Why did I just say that.”

Finally, the bus arrives. Josiah pulls out his dollar. We get on the bus. I search through my purse pulling out as many coins as I can find to make a 70 cents. We get to 60 and the bus driver tells us just to sit down. We laugh and venture to the back of the bus only to find the same uncertain green stain and laughed.

I look at my umbrella and realize it’s broken. Once we arrive at our stop we walked carefully to the apartment unscathed from the nights unsuccessful events.

New Blog: Signs of Compassion

Since I came to Washington DC about 6 weeks ago, I have felt a call more than ever to reach out into the world in search for signs of hope, love and compassion.

I have witnessed many of these signs: people buying homeless food, organizations helping individuals and families in need, protests and prayer groups for social and moral issues. I have seen people stand up for morality, and I have witnessed harsh realities.

When I left for DC, I was coming with a purpose. Part of that purpose was to pursue journalism, the other was to find my calling and discover whether it truly lies in a field of communication.

My jump into the journalism industry was rough. My internship was colliding with my coursework, and I felt useless and uncalled. I struggled to get through the days not knowing if my heart was in it. Then with the blessing and advice of my advisors, I changed internships and began interning at the Baptist Press.

In my first few days there, I was already working on stories that affected not only the Christian community but humanity as a whole. The more I get involved each day, the more I realize that there are so many social, justice and moral issues that people are not addressing.

These past two weeks I have been working primarily on pro-life issues. An issue I feel both strongly and unsure about. As an adopted child, a baby born out of a teen pregnancy and adopted at birth, I have always felt it was right to be pro-life. However, I understand not everyone’s situation is simple. There are complexities in pregnancies I cannot explain. Regadless, this topic is one often discussed and debated as a moral and social issue.

There are other issues that affect human rights that are less frequently addressed. In the Summer of 2007, I visited a village in northeast Thailand with my high school peers. In preparation, we learned about the horrifically large industry of sex trafficking. Ever since visiting Thailand, my heart strings have been pulled by this subject. Portland, Oregon the metropolitan area my hometown is a part of, is the second leading sex trafficking city in the US. As a young women, this is disheartening.

Last year, in my general education chemistry course I did a report on clean water. The amount of people dying throughout the world by harmful water is saddening. I did research and found organizations making a difference. However, every time I drink bottled water, I don’t think of the environment first, but rather those who have no access to healthy and clean water.

There are so many dilemmas in this world. I could write about it forever. The AIDS epidemic, the poverty-stricken in Mexico who live in wastelands, the black market of selling organs, the work slavery that still exists today, the drug cartels, the orphans living in soiled cribs, all of these things affect humanity, affect our world. What are we doing about it? What will we do about it? How did we let it get this way?

I hope I can show you, the signs of compassion.

Second First day

It's the sixth week of my DC adventure and fourth week of internship. Today was my first day at a new internship. I changed publications and am now interning at Baptist Press. A rare thing to happen at WJC, but Baptist Press is a better fit for the program requirements and also what I want to do in the future. I was excited for the new opportunity. I have heard great things about my editor, and was excited to write about the more human side of politics.

I woke up this morning ready for the new day, I was out the door and hoping to make it to work at 8:30. It snowed last night, so a thin layer of white covered the side walks and I slipped and struggled over them on my less than 15 minute long walk.

On my way I got cat called by the dumpster collector man, but it was not just any cat call. Thanks to technology complete strangers now have the ability to shout out there first and last name to you saying, "Hey find me on facebook, be my friend, you looking good girl." Due to this comical scene I knew my day was headed in the right direction.

I approached the door at exactly 8:29, perfect timing. The staff is personable, even though I am on a whole floor to myself, every time one of them walks by the pick up conversation and ask me if I need anything. They are giving me wife cell numbers, suggesting churches and giving in-depth tours of the three story house-office.

My editor sits down and hands me two stories for me for the week, easy enough. I am in business: researching, writing and contacting sources. I have a window life is good. It's a second first day and this new start is going to open my opportunities and give me more insight into politics that involve moral, social and justice issues. I can't wait to see what I will learn next.

Tomorrow's the Big Day

Tomorrow I start my internship. Naturally I have a cold. I am hoping that I won’t sound as stuffy by tomorrow morning. I am extremely excited for this opportunity. There is no doubt in my mind that it is not going to be a challenged and I am both excited and nervous about it.

I know this is all a learning experience. I am sure I will have my humbling moments. This is a huge opportunity. I am looking forward to learn a lot about the journalism industry and becoming a better writer.

Challenged

I feel challenged more than ever. Coming in to D.C. I knew I would be challenged, have my moments of frustration, and learn a lot. Since I arrived here, I have stayed relatively calm. Today my brain feels like it may explode from information.

In the past week or so have classes we have discussed Christian’s role in media, particularly journalism. It is more controversial than I imagined. Some CCCU (Council of Christian Colleges and Universities) schools do not even let their students attend this program. They believe that there is no role for Christian’s in this industry.

WHAT? I disagree entirely.

Christian’s stay inside Christian industries because it is safe. I will not say being a Christian and being a reporter will come easy. I may have struggles with issues I have to report on. Since I am human and have biases, I will have to reach inside myself figure out what they are and how to avoid them in my work. That’s going to be a fierce obstacle. I think it is necessary though. How else will someone with a Christian worldview get out into the press?

A guest speaker arrived today, and discussed internships in the year past and what students have learned in years prior. It was refreshing and horrifying. I believe this process is going to humble me. It is going to push me out of my comfort zone. It is going to challenge me to write better, quicker, and flawlessly.

Three days to prepare and get ready for an internship. I am so grateful for this opportunity and the lessons I will learn. Simultaneously, I am a nervous wreck! Wish me luck!

The beginning of a journey

I am finally in D.C. After months of preparation, I am finally in the heart of the Capitol. It was nerve-wracking leaving home to a place I had never been, but since my time on the plane to right this moment everything has finally fallen into place.

I only had moments to hug my parents goodbye and board the plane. I grabbed the window seat and on my flight I met two interesting individuals: A college student from my county heading to school in New Jersey, and a grandma of 23 grandchildren headed to her daughter in Virginia.

Then I arrived in D.C. I was honestly shocked I had made it with so few tears and with everything running so smoothly. Whenever I attempt to do something usually chaos ensues, but for some reason I arrived at one of my program director’s house without any problems.

The next day I arrived at the Dellenback Center and met my roommates: Jenny, Emily, Amy, and Katie. Jenny and Emily are part of the Washington Journalism Center program. Amy and Katie are in the American Studies Program. We did the basic introductions. The ones that are always awkward at first.

Although we bonded quickly due to an immediate catastrophe: a continuous overflowing toilet. It overflowed at least twice a day for the first few days. We even considered getting plumber licenses; Emily suggested we call ourselves the Pretty Preppy Plumbers. A suiting name seeing as our apartment is decorated with vintage butterfly and Paris decals.

So far, I have met and mingled with my peers, gone on scavenger hunt across the city, prayed with a homeless man, had hours of metro confusion, eaten far too much pizza, possibly found a home church at Capitol Hill Baptist Church, learned about the importance of vocation and calling, served at an afterschool center for young students, and discovered I love D.C.

This is a place where goals are accomplished. People work hard and people live hard lives.

Coming from suburban Portland, Ore. to D.C. had me in temporary shock. Not because of the change of scenery or the number of airline miles separating my parents and I, but because of my sudden confidence and comfort in the situation. I did not think I would follow through with this adventure. I usually get nervous and back out of any type of voluntary change. I fear uncertainty and spontaneity. While I love the concept of being spontaneous, it gives me anxiety. I was stunned it faded so quickly.

I have realized there is not much to fear here. The people in my program are a large variety of personalities. They all seem genuine here with the purpose of growth and learning. My apartment is substantial, and my neighborhood is conveniently located in the middle of two Metro stations.

The Metro system is not too confusing. It is color coded, maps are clear, and I actually almost feel like I know where I am going. The homeless are easy to talk to, like Bernard, who prayed with my scavenger hunt group when we got off at the Union Station. And the Starbucks and a family owned coffee shop across the street give me comfort and the caffeine I need to make it through each day.

Despite the cold, this is a place I could see myself. A place I am excited to become a temporary resident of. A place where I will be challenged and encouraged. A place where I can explore and discover more about myself, others, God, and the journalism industry.

Bring it on D.C.

New Year 2011

2010 is over. A new year and new adventures for sure. Approximately 10 days until I leave for a new place. And I am excited for the new people, challenges, and opportunities awaiting me. Scared out of my mind too. I have no doubt though that 2011 will be an amazing year of activity, change, and joy.

This year has been rough. I had my fair share of frustrating experiences. Between my grandpa contracting MRSA, my dog, Belle, being diagnosed with cancer, finding out one of my best friends was transferring to a college in Arkansas.

However, I had a lot of highlights. Going to San Diego to spend time with Meredith and meeting Tinker Bell. Having many laughs with my Mom, and movie nights with the parents. Meeting new friends and spending time with them. And of course getting accepted into WJC.

2010 has past, so what about the present and the future. Presently I am stressing out over leaving. Anxiety has set in and I am not looking forward to the next ten rushed days of craziness to see some of the people I care about and get all of my stuff together. I think I am as unorganized as they come at this point. O.K., I am going to skip the present and jump to future.

I’ll start with my resolutions.

1) Use my wings. I resolve to fly, soar, take in the world, and jump on change and opportunities that will broaden my experience and world views.

2) Grow in my confidence. As fun as doubting myself is, I would like to be confident with who I am. I resolve to stand up straighter, accept compliments, not apologize for who I am (yet still admit my faults and flaws), and simultaneously speak with compassion and self-assurance.

3) Have an open heart. I resolve to love, forgive, care, and trust in those who stand by me. Accept friendship when it comes, and be vulnerable to heartbreak to those who deserve my time. I also resolve to pray more and open my heart more to God.

4) Start progress in the world. I resolve to volunteer, take time for those who need help, open the worlds eyes to global oppression, and ask others about how to achieve their versions of utopia.

5) Take me time. This one may sound selfish, but I don’t think I got Mono from kissing. I overdid life. I resolve to write for myself a bit each day, exercise more, eat more pickled beet salads and less chocolate, stop my chronic procrastination, and choose nap time over Facebook time.

My future seems bright. With a few changes and a new place I will be on my own facing the world. I will take in challenges as the come. I will take one step at a time. And hopefully with these new resolutions, I will be a confident, well-rested, loving person pushing for the betterment of humanity. Bring it on D.C., you are just another chapter in this life’s story.

I hope you all had a good new years eve, and have big plans for the new year. Best of luck and let’s make this year shine.

Always believe,

Amanda Kate