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

Holiday Traditions

In the spirit of Christmas! I thought I would share with you some family traditions that will live on forever in my heart. Some good old recipes. Also some fun decorations and activities my Mom always did. There are countless more, but these are some that stick with me. I love my family and my Mom's Christmas spirit that lives on through everything she does.

1. Elfie- A present before Christmas that a little elf would leave me. It was always something small like a fairy trinket (I collect fairy things) or pajamas


2. Our tree- it smells lovely and has a random mishmash of ornaments that tell our family history.


3. Hokey Pokey Cake- Yes! My family makes Hokey Pokey Cake. We don’t dance or anything ridiculous like that. As a young child, I thought it was just fun to say “Hokey Pokey.” So I think that’s mostly why I liked it. But its an amazing white cake with Jell-o in it, red and green for the spirit of Christmas. It’s delicious!


4. Stockings- This may be my favorite tradition of them all! Stockings were huge overstuffed and overflowing. I have had the same stocking since preschool. My mom put a pretty angel on it. Every morning, at the crack of dawn Nick would run into my room and say, “Amanda Kate it’s Christmas! Look Santa came! Oh my gosh Amanda look what you got!” And then we would grab the bulk of our stocking unable to carry all of its contents into my parents room and wake up our parents and show them all the cool things Santa brought. To this day my brother and I still love our stockings!


5. Little people village- We don’t do it anymore, but we have one of those fabulous villages with all the little people and houses. I always set it up as a child. It was so much fun. I had my favorite houses, I loved the post office. And I made up stories about them.


6. Sugar cookies- No, no these weren’t your ordinary sugar cookies. Half the dough was dyed red and occasionally we used some green. We pulled out the cookie cutters. But the best part was twisting the candy cane cookies. We did it by hand with plain dough and red dough making cute little candy canes. Of course we ate the dough along the way.


7. Cinnabon Cinnamon Buns- Every Christmas we eat Cinnamon buns for breakfast with hot chocolate of course!


8. Candle Light Service at the Presbyterian Church- It’s very traditional, but that’s why I like it. I love the organs and the Christmas story. It’s what Christmas is about Jesus. And I love that.


9. Christmas Music- Of course, this is one of the best parts. It’s tried and true. Always the same, but new singers and renditions play on the radio station. The car station is set to Christmas music channel from December until Christmas day.


10. White Christmas- It’s a classic of course and rarely does a year go by where we don’t watch Bing Crosby sing and dance about Christmas Day. It is so happy!

Getting Ready

My brain is fried. I went shopping today with Mom. Seriously, got such a great value on all of these amazing items in Nordies. $400 for like a gazillion things that I will wear forever. All high quality stuff that will be amazing in D.C. for both work and play! Mostly tops though, so soon I need to tackle the pants and the shoes. My least favorite things to shop for. Pants are annoying and I have ultra wide feet with fat toes and skinny ankles. It’s a lovely combination. And now that I have pointed it out to you my attractive-meter has probably gone down a good 10 points. At least I can recognize my flaws, right?

After my retail therapy of happiness and joy, I had to slave away at internship stuff. You know those awful nightmares where you need to run but you go in slow motion, that is how I feel about this D.C. preparation experience.

I am more than excited about this opportunity. I mean how often do you get to do something like this? Once in a lifetime. A huge city with new people and an opportunity that could change the direction of my life.

However, the getting ready process has been like that horrible nightmare feeling I mentioned above. But, not like you are escaping from a scary monster, more like you are going to be late for the magic school bus at your nearby bus stop. It would be very disappointing if you didn’t get to experience one of Mrs. Frizz’s magical field trips for yourself. Yep, its kind of like that. An awesome opportunity awaiting, but getting to the bus stop is going to be a bit of a push.

I still am waiting on an emotional breakdown. The floodgates are going to let loose any day now. We may need buckets, tissues, and some humorous and mindless youtube videos to get through it.

I know I am 21 and should be all independent and adult like now, but the truth is the thought of leaving Oregon, my family, my friends, everything familiar for 4 months is horrifying. Change is hard for me. I get nervous, shy, confused, frustrated, lonely. So basically I am human. Does this affect my attractive-meter? Would it be better if I was an alien or mermaid? (I do have wings though, but I am still human.)

Enough with the yuck-yuck blick-blick of this message. I would like to take this time to tell you the ways I do feel prepared.

First of all, my family has given me everything I need to be who I am. They are my balance. It’s going to be hard not to have them there for me to vent to. My parents tolerate everything about me, including my sassy attitude I get when I am cranky. They also encourage me. Their encouragement is what led me to the decision to go to D.C.. They told me to never give up and follow my dreams. This has helped me chase what I want. There love has always given me strength.

Second of all, my friends are the best. Each one of them is different and has helped me in one way or another. I started to write little blurbs about each of you and got to the fifth person and realized I would be up all night. So, I will do a bigger blurb that includes everyone I care about (and there are many of you).

No matter when we met whether at Elementary School, Junior High, High School, Genesis, College, beach trips, newspaper, coffee shop, or through a friend of a friend I am so glad we met. The time I have spent with you all, I love. We have laughed, cried, talked much about nothing and nothing about much, caused classroom disruptions, gone on random adventures, had awkward moments, maybe even had a rough patch (or two…or three), have some classic photos together, or facebook videos (your going to check facebook now, aren’t you?), drank coffee amongst other beverages, and have had some classic moments we will probably talk about until we are 120 years-old.

You have taught me caring doesn’t care about distance. And that we can all do anything and we will all likely end up doing a little bit of everything before we settle on a something. This has made it easier for me. I have come to the realization that no matter where and what, if we are indeed friends, we will always be.

Thirdly, I have learned a lot at school. Go figure! My education has done me some good and I don’t even have my degree, yet. Last week was the worst. I mean the worst. It was my last week at Fox for a long time and instead of saying goodbye to my friends, I was burning brain cells trying to remember the importance of Jesus for Life of Christ, the purpose of Universal Declaration of Human Rights, how to spell words correctly, and do HTML coding. THE WORST.

But I have learned. Maybe I need one or two more lessons on why I shouldn’t procrastinate though. I did learn how to apply my education, how to write better (this blog may not be a good example, I am going to blame it on just getting over finals week), how to do HTML coding (nerdy and cool), the importance of politics, history, ethics, religion, and the meaning of life. I am kidding with the meaning of life, I don’t know that one yet. I learned that the more questions I ask and absorb all the information, the more I understand the world around me. And I am prepared to learn more. Learn things I want to learn, or maybe not, and how to apply those to my life, education, and work. Also, my professors pushed me and encouraged me, again this was helpful in my decision to go to D.C..

Finally, in God making things work out for me. I have a place to stay my first night in D.C. I am so grateful for that and people’s immense generosity. I have help from someone with some past experience, who has been so kind to take the time to ease my nerves and explain the process. When strangers reach out, its just more of an affirmation that this it the right move. People are willing to help, and things will fall into place.

That was a lot more ushy-gushy than I intended. Writing is good therapy I guess. I am so excited for this journey. I appreciate all your support, love, and prayers. I hope that during this Christmas Holiday, you are not stressed and can all get rest. We all need it! Also, I leave in three weeks, so Oregonian area people I better see your faces before I depart. Goodnight all!

Get Ready Washington DC

Dear D.C.,

I will be entering your city in about three weeks. Seeing as we are not acquainted, I figured I should introduce myself.

First of all, I am from a hippie state with lots of trees. There is no humidity where I come from, so we may have issues. I will probably whine about the weather for the first several weeks, especially since I am coming in the dead of winter and you will likely be snowing on me. Snow is not my favorite. Please be nice to me and don’t snow more than you have to. Feel free to rain though, rain reminds me of home.

I have never lived in the city. I have only taken public transportation a few times, usually with large groups so I do not get lost—I get lost easily. For instance, today I went to the grocery store with my parents and went to put the cart back. I forgot where they parked and was lost. My mom peaked her head around from another car about 15 yards away and said, “Amanda are you lost.” Mom knows I am directionally challenged. So, if you see a blond girl wondering the streets in confusion or looking at the metro map intently trying to figure out whether to take the blue or yellow line, well that is probably me. I wanted to get chipped, like they do to dogs, but apparently you can’t do that to people.

D.C., it is likely you have not seen anyone with as much pink as I have. I have a lot of pink. I wear lots of pink. I smile and jump for joy when I see pretty pink or sparkly things. Why you ask? Pink is like the sunshine, I can’t help but be happy in its presence. Accept it. Appreciate it.

This will be my first time being so far away from home for so long. I live less than 30 minutes from my university. Mommy helps with laundry, takes care of me when I am sick (like when mono ruined my 21^st birthday and the last month of school), and takes me out to coffee when I have a bad week. My friends are all close by. I know no one in your city. I will probably get homesick, I will probably be a nervous wreck some days, and with my luck I will accidently throw a red shirt in with my whites. Just be understanding, and don’t laugh to hard if I turn my white tank top pink.

D.C., I am excited for this adventure with you. I am ready for this change. A new place, a new chance, and a possibility to begin pursuing all my dreams. You are my opportunity and I am so thankful for that. I am also scared, like anxiously horrified. You are different, unfamiliar, and HUGE! You have all these people of power. You are the voice of America! I think I can dominate it though—I hope! And I know this will be a great semester, possibly the best. ;)

See you in 23 days!

Sincerely,

Amanda Kate

In response to "How I Became a Bed-Maker" by Kate Torgovnick

Growing up is not for me. I have a severe case of what I call “Peter Pan syndrome.” Of course I will take on my adult responsibilities, and use my adult privileges, but actually admit that I am an adult? Never.

I could relate to Torgovnick in the beginning of her story. My room is a mess of papers, clothes, and make-up products. My sheets are falling off the sides of my bed. Like Torgovnick, organization is not one of my primary skills. I could relate to her, her young mindset; but then she grew up.

It is a simple task, but it defines her growth and her transformation into adulthood. In this past year, I have felt significantly older, but by no means have I reached adulthood, and to be honest I am not too keen to. I like my childhood imagination, I enjoy appreciating the simplicity of life, I like feeling reckless and spontaneous. I do not want to let go of my Neverland. In fact, if I have to sacrifice Neverland for adulthood, I will take Neverland.

I notice the fact that my priorities have shifted, that my definition of drama has drastically changed, my plans for the future have become more real. I also notice that fairies still line my walls in my room, my favorite color is still pink, I own coloring books, I sleep with BoBo (my raggedy childhood bunny), I have a tutu, I have fairy wings, and my make-up case contains unnecessary amounts of childhood glitter.

Torgovnick grew up, and she realized it one morning as she made her bed.
“I won’t grow up, I don’t want to wear a tie, or a serious expression in the middle of July, I won’t grow up,” said Peter Pan. Me neither, Peter, me neither.

106 Days

106 days until Washington D.C.!!! CRAZY!

Barbies and Blonds

http://www.deathandtaxesmag.com/29398/journalism-barbie-marks-the-end-of-real-news/

I am a blond. I like pink. I am also a journalism major.

Does this make me irrelevant?

I have a journalism in Washington D.C. nest semester, I have a great G.P.A. and my goal is to do something worth while in my life. I want to impact the world, not stand their in front of camera men reading off TelePrompTers. Journalism may be changing, but is not become obsolete. If anything itis expanding through means of other media.

"Barbie isn’t stupid—there are astronaut and doctor Barbies out there, and even a CEO Barbie—it’s really her fans (10 year-old girls and Rachel Zoe) who are dummies. At the New York Toy Fair last February, a spokesperson from Mattel announced that the 125th anniversary edition of Barbie would either be an architect, a computer engineer, an environmentalist, a surgeon or a journalist, and that it would be up to a world-wide vote of Barbie fans to decide which she’d be.

It seems as though the girls who used to be obsessed with Barbies grew up into journalists and voted this new doll into existence. Whenever I meet an astoundingly dumb, over-dressed female, it almost invariably comes up that she majored in journalism. It seems the journalism major is the new psych major. And now we’re all on Lexapro."

Yeah, I like Barbie. I did not know of this vote, but if I did I am sure I would have voted for a journalist. I do not appreciate the sexist approach. I am a young women, but I am not trying to enter the media world to sleaze myself out to camera sections. I want to make a difference in this world.

Precious Life Summer 2010

Wow, summer is coming to an end. I head back to the good old GFU in less than three weeks. This summer has taught me a lot. None of it has been intentional, but I have come to find that in life you can accidently learn things that may impact the future. These lessons have not been easy to take in. In fact, this whole summer has been an emotional rollercoaster.

It started off with some friends graduating, some friends getting married, and some friends getting crazy. Then I hit Southern California to spend time with one of my best friends, Meredith Kaloogian. It was a great time from San Diego to Anaheim and everywhere in-between. However, the good time came with some grim news, Meredith will not be returning to Fox this fall. She will be attending University of Arkansas.

Meredith was the friend I had been praying for. She is someone I could be completely me around. Someone, I can laugh with, cry with, and complain too. I was excited to have a roommate that I could easily share my space with, without drawing an invisible line down the middle. It will be hard without her, but the truth is despite the distance, she will still be one of my best friends for life. That means more to me than anything, and reminded me how true friendship really works. A true friend thinks about even when you are a plane ride away. A true friend invents ways to hang out with you even though you are not actually physically together.

Most importantly, a true friend supports and encourages you to do what is best. I support her choice, and encourage Meredith to embrace this change and make the best of it. She is worthy of happiness, and can handle this challenge. I believe she will shine.

I discovered something else in California. While standing in line to see a live taping of Jay Leno, I checked my e-mail to discover I was accepted to attend Washington Journalism Center in D.C. for their spring term. I was overjoyed, but as time approaches I realize what a strain this will be. I have never been that far from my parents for that long. I have never been to D.C. I have never had a professional internship. I have never taken publication transportation alone, and up until California flown alone. I am excited, but realizing I have a lot of growing up to do before I embark. These next few months will be crucial as I focus on developing the skills I will need to have prior to this adventure. I will express and write more about this as time goes on.

After Disneyland, Hollywood Boulevard, and the San Diego beaches, I returned to a bleak and gray sky Oregon. I was excited to see my parents again, and my mom and I to do our daily things. Shopping, errands, talking, and laughing at everything always keeps us busy. However, my Grandfather has not been doing well. So, I have helped her on a daily basis, with the exceptions of the days where I am in Newberg working part-time, so I have some money. It started out just bandage changes to some wounds on his foot; it progressed to a serious staff infection known as MRSA.

No more Tinkerbell and daydreaming of being rich and famous, reality set in. About 10 days of hospital visits occurred. I hate hospitals, although I do not think anyone particularly likes being in one. He had three surgeries. He is 88 years old. My Mom is such a giving person; she has helped him for several years, but this was something out of anyone’s control. Something that causes a lot of health issues, and for an 88-year-old man is very debilitating.

He is currently residing in an elderly rehabilitation facility. It is hard to watch someone you love grow this old, and this tired. I have seen him age over the years, but this was a drastic turn. The lesson in this is more than I can take in.

First and foremost I have realized family is absolutely everything. This is something I have known. It has just become more apparent through this. I have not been seeing many people, I have not prioritized my social life; it is not really existing. I spend time with my family at night relaxing from the emotional stress of watching someone we love become weak, and their fight slowly fade. It hurts.

Another cliché, but still these events have reminded me how true it is, life is far too short. My Grandpa has lived a good life. He has down a lot of things, seen the world, was in love, was successful, raised a family, and everything one can hope to do in a lifetime. Although, I am sure there is so much more he wishes for. This helps me remember to stay in the present and not rush the future. I need to make more of each day and make sure I am doing what makes me happy, so when I am 88 I can look back and say it was good.

It is a stressful time, but I am praying and hoping that something good will come from it. That he will start to turn back to his normal self. That he will have strength to live the last part of his life stronger. The optimism has been low, and I will admit I have almost slightly emotionally been detaching myself from this because it is so hard. Although, I am not proud of this and wish I could have more of my Mom’s strength to carry more of her burden.

This is where my anxiety comes in. That is probably why I am writing so much right now, to lower my anxiousness of everything. My summer has not really been a break, and school is around the corner. I am just worried about everything, and I mean everything. What do I want to do with my life? How will I manage all my responsibilities? Am I in the right classes? Will my apartment-mates get along? Will people judge me? Will I met new friends? Will I have good experiences? Will I make new memories? Will I be overly stressed? And a lot more…

I have been challenged here. I feel as though I have grown up a bit. I have become more independent. I have done what I consider “big girl” things. I am a child at heart, and like to be nurtured. Lately, I have been trying to nurture others and also be less of a dependent upon others acceptance. I have had to find escapes of reality, so my anxiety lowers. My fears are still apparent and some are more intense. I am just discovering my limits and the inevitable. I am challenged to find how to balance my extreme fears and anxiety with what I cannot change. This is a huge struggle and I am facing it with the optimism I can overcome whatever makes me shake.

There is another thing I learned, but I cannot seem to put into words right now. So I must save it for another time. For me, I just hope I take these last couple weeks and make sure I have clear goals, and an understanding of the relevance of this life. I read Charlie St. Cloud, have not seen the movie, but the book discusses how precious this life is. Experiencing and reading about it at the same time is no coincidence. I know God has a purpose for me here, and I just hope I can fulfill it, while staying true to my identity, loyal to my family, and honest to my true friends.

Embracing Change: Where I am going.

I am one of the few people, who has always, with the exception of two difficult years of my life, known the direction I am meant to go. Though I knew I was supposed to pursue writing, I never knew how my journalistic abilities were going to help the world. “Work for Vogue,” people would say, as clearly I am a girly-girl and would not know much outside of the fashion and feminine realm.

Recently I have discovered where I am going and my intentions. The stereotypes of my typical disposition, style, attitude, favorite color, and even my blond hair have bogged me down for years. Constantly battling with whether to wear my pink sweaters and dresses, knowing others would perceive me as “just another blond girl who cannot hold intellectual conversations,” or to change who I am so people would see me for what is beyond their vision. I chose to stay me, pink, cutesy, blond and even flirty. Despite these things I do not hold true to the stereotype.
These past few weeks I have not been so well. I was having issues balancing my life, and trying to figure out my plans for this summer, next year, and how I was going to better myself for what came after college. Then I hit a wall. I was putting enthusiasm and time in to all these application processes for various jobs, activities, and internships to repeatedly here, “we regret to inform you.” The first one did not hurt, the second one was just frustrating, and the third one made me flustered and perplexed.

Another realization hit me, this is not what I want. I am tired of putting myself out there for the opportunities that are not going to push me, make me progress, or support me. My ambitions are too many to list, my hopes and goals to detailed to explain; but, I can tell you that I have high expectations for myself. These expectations are rarely reached as every time I get close, I lose focus or raise the bar another level just because I know I won’t reach. These expectations have helped me though, as I have come to understand that I need to be me above all else.

My main focus behind this blog is that I am about to make some changes in order to go on an adventure. While like my future, I am not sure what this adventure is, but I know where it starts. I am going to finish my next 2 years and four weeks of college with as much experience as possible. I am going to write everything, learn as much as I possibly can about journalism, media, communication, and political science. Understanding these concepts will hopefully put me in a position to advocate and fight for those without a voice, or to make the voices of those who have suggestions that promote humanity louder, and amplify the good hearts and causes throughout the world.

This is what I want to do, this is going to be my future. I will keep you updated with what I am doing, causes to look in to, and people who are trying to make a difference.

I am Amanda Kate and this is my Story

To those who doubt, you will never find the peace you thrive for. To those who search for what you believe or desire when all odds are against you, this blog is for you. Whether you are creating a journey for God, unfulfilled dreams, love, or even the existence of fairies, never lose hope.

We all are trying to accomplish something with our lives. In reality, we all are striving for the same thing, but we come across it in different ways. We are all on the journey to find happiness, and pursued goals.

So, what does my excursion entail? Well, I don’t know exactly. I am 19-year-old girl, going to be a sophomore at a small conservative private university. I am girl who is pursuing a dream of becoming a writer, a journalist. I am a girl who never quite accepted the fact that one day I may have to grow up and become an adult. I am a girl who still has a pink room, loves fairies, and imagines herself with wings. I am a girl who recently realized how hard life can become when you turn left at a road where you were supposed to turn right.

At this point in my life that is all I really know. I have been through my struggles, I have grown, I have made my own choices and created a path. However, I don’t know where that path is going. I don’t even know where I want it to take me.

I am writing this blog to share with you my life journey. Share with you the uncertainty of my choices. I’ll even reveal my flaws and downfalls along the way because without those it wouldn’t be reality, would it?

I am Amanda Kate and this is my story.