DC: The Irony of Journalism - take 2

Let's try this again.  So I was talking about my job right?  Yes. 

Before I go any further, I must tell you about my biggest experience lately.  I went to an FCC open meeting the other day.  I felt so fancy.  I had to show them picture ID and have them print me out a badge.  Then I went through security and had to turn on my laptop and cell phone and let the security people look at them.  I'm not sure what they were looking for, but I felt fancy.  Matt, the new guy, also went to the meeting.  While I was there, one of my fellow reporters emailed me and told me to ask a question for him during the press conference after the meeting.  He would be watching the live videocast of the meeting and press conference online.

So, after the meeting, I went and sat at the press table, a table facing the commissioners with mics for each person.  It was so nerve-racking.  I was at the press table about the ask a question to the CHAIRMAN OF THE FCC on TV, for goodness sakes!  Matt was also up there, and he went before I did.  When I finally asked my question, the Chairman said, "oh you're new aren't you?"  That just shows how cool the publication that I'm working for is.  The Chairman of the FCC notices when we get new people.  I felt so important.  Then another section of the commission got up to answer questions about something else, and Matt leaned over asking me if I could think of any questions.  I shrugged and mouthed "I don't know" because I hadn't collected myself to think of any.  Matt came to me and told me the video camera had caught that exchange.  Great, I looked like a complete newby in front of the whole telecom world.  Ah well, what can you do. :P

Anyways, another fun part of work is when I do a good job.  After a particularly good story about the FCC and digital textbooks, I got an email from my boss that said nothing in the body, but the subject line said: "Nice."

It was such a simple compliment, yet it meant tons.  Of course, a couple days later, I wrote a pretty crappy story which probably ruined it.  Then this week, I ticked off one of my other bosses two days in a row.  I felt pretty useless.  Not to mention, I've been working on one story for a couple weeks and haven't made much progress. Yesterday I really buckled down and tried to finish it today.  I got some good, solid numbers for my story.  But then, I found out they were all inaccurate, and I found myself back at square one. 

But when I left work today, I had about half of the story finished.  I'm confident I can finish it Tuesday.   Yes, Tuesday.  Yay for federal holidays!! Presidents Day right?  More like "Katie Sleep-In Day."  Anyways, I also like the people I work with.  It's so cool to be working with real-life journalists.  It may sounds silly, but it's awesome.  I try to learn as much as I can, and they often give me advice.  I love it.

DC: The Irony of Journalism

I like many things about my job.  One of my favorites is, of course, covering events that give me free lunch (or various other free foods).  I also love that I'm covering the state legislative beat.  I get to learn more about how state governments work.  I'm not very familiar with state government, and I've learned a lot already.  I also get to see how different states are dealing with different telecom issues.  For example, Washington state has a bill that makes it easier for local governments to build broadband, while Georgia has one that would limit the local governments' ability to build broadband.  A bill was just introduced in West Virginia that would give the state's public service commission power to regulate broadband deployment.  The public service commission usually deals with things like electricity and waterworks, not broadband.  It just fascinates me that these different states are taking such different approaches to one issue.

It really makes me appreciate the freedom we have in this country, and it brings me back to the idea that we are such an individualistic society.  Different regions of our country can have polar opposite laws just because different types of people live there and have different types of needs.  Many people argue that, in this technology age, smartphones and social media and things have made us more individualistic.  It's an interesting debate.  Whether we are more or less individualistic now, I don't know.  But I think Americans have always been individualistic.  That's the idea our country was founded on: "I have rights, and YOU can't take them away from ME."  That's the most beautiful and right form of selfishness.  We are all united in our self-absorbedness.  But if we think someone attacks our rights, we can unite in an instant to fight back.  We saw that with the whole SOPA debate a couple weeks back. 

I think that the Internet and everything else has made us more united if anything.  We can share information with each other, check up on each other and give feedback in a matter of seconds.  Sure, we are probably less social, as in we have less face-to-face interactions.  And there are bad things about that to be sure.  But here's my point:
Technology came along, a wonderful tool that could be used for good or for bad.  And what do we use it for?
To connect with each other! 

We may be individualistic, but we are still very much alive and concerned with each other.  So much so that we all want to be instantly connected with each other 24/7.  Some of us can't go for more than one day without checking Facebook.  Is it unhealthy? Maybe.  But what does it say about our natures?  We're hungry for information.  We're hungry to learn, to be aware of each other.  And whether you're a positive young mother posting about her kids or a whiny teenager posting complaints about everyone under the sun, you know you've always got some type of following who will support you and "like" what you say.  What a beautiful use of technology.

DC: Escapades in Chinatown

I've been here over a month and have given up keeping track of how many days I've been here, so I will just write about isolated inspired incidents.

Yesterday.. it was Friday night.  And, naturally, I was hanging out with a guy.  That's what hot journalists do when they're not busy saving the world.  They hang out with their creepy, 29-year-old male friends!  Unless certain younger guys in their singles ward balls up and ask them out... Anyways. 

Well, I was asked out, kind of, by a congressional intern I met at a press event the other day.  He had asked me for my number, suggesting we "go out for coffee sometime."  Apparently my halo wasn't bright enough for him to recognize that I'm Mormon.  :P  Yesterday, he texted me and invited me to go with him and some friends to happy hour.  I said, "I don't drink."  I could just tell him I'm Mormon, but I like it when people figure things out on their own.  So I decided to go with my Mormon male-friend who has come to play the simultaneous roles of gay friend trying to set me up with other guys, mentor trying to give me ridiculous advice about life, and flirty guy friend who likes to argue with me about stuff, like Obama.  It's always nice to have a friend who balances between being fun to hang out with and sporadically ticking you off.

So, there we were in Chinatown.  I was in a particularly happy mood, probably because it was the weekend and I had just finished a casual Friday.  So I walked along in my Yogscast sweatshirt, attracting extra stares from passerbyers who probably wondered what the heck a "diggy hole" is, and of course attracting the usual stares from people who can't seem to comprehend a woman being 6 feet tall.  We went to dinner at a Tai place where I had the most delectable chicken and spicy fried rice.  It was mostly delicious because my body had not quite recovered from my kickboxing class the day before and I had been ravenous all day.  By the time I got to the restaurant, I had become giddy and moody because my blood sugar was so low.  I'm sure I was obnoxious.

So, he happened to have two movie passes, and I convinced him to take me to "Vow," a sappy chick flick that had opened that day (which was yesterday by the way).  But 7:30 was sold out, so we decided to wander aimlessly and argue about stuff until the 9 pm showing.  I doubted whether the streets of chinatown could be entertaining for that long.  But one medium McDonald's milkshake later, I was on a sugar-high mood swing, and we came upon a spectacular street performer.

The scrawny young white man stood under a lamp post, right in front of the Chinatown movie theater, playing an electric guitar and belting out songs by Journey and Bob Marley, occasionally changing words in the songs to match our settings.  ("In the government yard in Trenchtown" was changed to "by a movie theater in Chinatown")  The man was quite talented and sounded just like Journey when he sand "Small Town Girl."  He had a stand up mic and his electric guitar hooked up to a small speaker, and he had a bike leaned up against the lamp post.  What a beautiful thought, this man travelling around DC on his bike, with his equipment on his back. 

After a couple minutes of the music drifting out of that speaker, five people had stopped to listen.  We had stopped too but were a little ways off observing.  One man, African American and about 50, stopped and started dancing on the side walk.  A woman walking by with some friends started dancing too.  Soon about 20 people were gathered around listening, singing along or dancing. 

"This is why I love being a journalist," I uttered.  I love observing the little joys in life.  As much darkness as there is in this world, complete strangers can still be united on a Friday night in downtown DC by a lone street performer.  How grand is the human state.  As much darkness there is in human nature, there is also so much joy, fight and potential.  So much beauty. 

As the performer ran out of songs, we stood there still, observing the people wander back to their normalness after that moment of shared joy.  I was just going to check my phone to see the time when a short black man with a fat mustache approached us.

"Brotheh!" he exclaimed to my companion, "you gotta winnah here!  And if you find a winner, you gotta keep 'er!"  He gestured to me, and I laughed at the awkwardness of the situation. 

"You know what?!  You gotta love her.."  Then he proceeded into some sort of rhyme that involved numbers and references to love.  His accent was too thick for me to understand him, but I got the general idea, and I soon realized he was a beggar trying to get money.  After that he subjected us to a sermon about the fact that he had not asked us for anything but had instead given us something (his rhyme).  He then proceeded to preach about how God had saved him and would save those who were kind. 

"If someone gave me $100, it wouldn't mean as much as if you gave me $1, if his heart wasn't in it," the man rambled.  Then he again lectured my friend about holding onto me, loving me and fixing me a bubble bath after a long day.  I couldn't help but crack up.  We were both laughing, but he rambled on, interjecting "Oh baby!" and "Ow!" every few sentences.  After about fifteen minutes of this entertainment, my friend said, "I don't have any cash, but I can give you my extra metro card."  I could tell he desperately wanted this man to go away.  But to my continued laughter, the man continued, now preeching about my friend's kindness.  My friend kept trying to interject, but the man never even took a breath.  A pause finally came, and my friend shook his hand and backed away.  As we escaped, I couldn't help but laugh.

"This would not happen anywhere else," I said between laughs.  Don't get me wrong, I was definitely not laughing at that poor man.  I found his bold cheerfulness to be entertaining and uplifting.  But the man had been so forward, and the situation was so ridiculous, I couldn't help it. 

We had been listening to this man for about a half hour, and it was finally time for the movie.  We went in and stood in line among giggling girls and their reluctant boyfriends.  When we got into the theater, I was reminded of relief society at church.  About 80% of the people in the crowded theater were females, and they were all talking and giggling.  Of course, the theater showed a commercial about an orphan chimpanzee which induced many "aww"s from the crowd.  But not as much "aww"s as half-way through the movie when Channing Tatum, in all his muscley glory, started crying because his wife had forgotten him.  This brought on the biggest, loudest, unisoned "AWW" I had ever heard.  Of course, I joined in.  I couldn't help it.  After the movie, I was so tired that the 15 minute wait for the train in the metro was a sleepy haze.  But I thoroughly enjoyed my Chinatown experience.  It's nice to be girly sometimes and go see a chick flick, watch street performers and get complimented by a homeless man.

D.C. Day 26

Wednesday.
Today was a fantastic day.  Divine almost.  I've been quite mopey lately so I decided to buck up and be happier.  I've been spending more time in prayer and scripture study for the past couple of days, and I've been trying to focus more on other people than myself.  Of course today contained ironically horrible things.  My days always do, but the irony usually makes me laugh.  Lately I've been letting those things get to me, but not today!

I was supposed to cover an event today, and not just any event.  It was a discussion with a news anchor, the chairman of the FCC, and someone from the Department of Education, and it was being recorded live in a studio in the Newseum.  How awesome does that sound!! Also, today was gloriously sunny and warm, despite being the first day of February.  I didn't realize quite how warm it would be when I dressed that morning.  So I had worn a sweater over a long-sleeved button up white shirt and thick tights under my pencil skirt.  I walked to the metro station with sunlight imploding into my retinas from all possible directions.  The sunlight was dripping onto my skin, drawing out beads of sweat.  By the time I finally got to the metro station, I was exhausted.  When I arrived at my destination, it was even worse.  The area of the city I had gone to was more open, which meant more sun.  The sun rays reflected off cars, buildings and sidewalks as I walked the .7 mile to the newseum.  I went the wrong way at first and had to back track.  By the time I got there, my legs burned from trying to walk fast in a restricting pencil skirt, my eyes burned from the winter sunlight and I was a sweaty mess. 

I walked into the cool air of the museum, went through security, and entered the main doors.  I approached the sign in desk and was greeted by sorry looks.  It was 1:02. I was two minutes late.

"The live studio has started, and we can't admit anyone into the doors," one woman told me.  "You should have been in your seat at 12:30."

"The FCC press release didn't say anything about that," I objected.

"We're not in charge of what the FCC says.  Our press release said to be here a half hour early," she said.

"I didn't get a press release from you."

"I'm sorry."

I dejectedly re-entered the heat of outside.  It seemed even hotter on the way home.  My metro stop was the worst.  This certain stop has to exits.  The regular exit is shut down right now due to construction, so I have to use the other one.  This alternative exit has literally the tallest escalator in DC.  Maybe even the world.  My fear of escalators will not allow me to stand still on an escalator.  I must climb them.  So I climbed this half-mile escalator in a tight pencil skirt with the hot sun pouring down the tunnel.  I stayed motivated only by the desire to see the face of the man in front of me.  He had tan skin and a most attractive body with bulging muscles.  I was curious to see if his face was as attractive.  I matched his speed, and soon he grew too tired to continue.  He stood to one side as I passed him, and I caught a glimpse of his face.  He looked like Johnny Depp, but much beefier.  After passing the man, I climbed a couple more yards and emerged from the escalator: sweating, panting and grasping at the railing. 

As I came out, I saw a man with a large video camera.  I froze, stared at him in shock and then fled from the lens's view.  It was a news camera man from channel 5, no doubt filming some B roll of the escalator for a story about the other entrance being closed.  The camera man had caught my grand entrance complete with sweating, panting and awkwardly sneak-glancing at the hottie. 

Mortification.

I walked away and literally laughed out loud at the irony of my adventure.  I met my boss's boss as I was walking the last block back to work.  I said in one of my first blog posts that his name was Tim, but I got his name mixed up with another reporter.  His name is Dan.  I told him of my wasted time and being turned away from the event.  Then we continued into the office. 

Not soon afterwards, Howard came back to the office from an FCC meeting.  I didn't tell you about Howard yet because he was gone my first week at a meeting in Vegas.  He's another editor, a middle-aged man.  But after I met him, he soon became one of my favorite people because every time I talk to him, he goes off on a couple tangents that end with sprinkles of journalistic advice.  It reminds me of my favorite teacher back at BYU-I.  It's a trait that many writers have, and most of my favorite writing teachers have had it. 

"You ought to do as much of that kind of thing as possible," Howard said as I told him about when I covered a court case for a class at BYU-I after we got on the subject somehow.  I've also made friends with the two other women in the office, Yu-Ting and Kamala.  We're Facebook friends so it's official right?  They're super cool.  I'm helping Yu-Ting with the state legislative beat, so that has kept me busy this week so far.  I love the environment here, and everyone I work with is supportive and helpful. 

So after work, I went home for dinner before institute at the barlow center.  My landlord is the mission president in his ward so apparently the missionaries sometime come to see him.  They came tonight, and of course one of them was a 6' 5" football player from byu. Again, are you kidding me? So that was fun. Naturally, I was late to institute because I got caught up working on this post.  But I loved the class when I got there. We learned about Joseph smith coming to dc to talk to the president and running for president.  Then we talked about modern prophets.  The spirit was so strong, stronger than I have felt it since being at byu-i.  I love the propel in my ward.  When I first got here, I thought some were snobby, but there really are so many amazing people here.

I finally feel settled in, and I've got less than three months less.  Today was amazing, and my only worries so far are figuring out who to watch superbowl with on Sunday. People here don't watch sports, they watch politics. :p