hhhhhhhoder.

Yesterday was an emotionally tumultuous day. My goodness.

After not being able to fall asleep/waking up every hour during the night, I got up at about 7:45 yesterday morning, so that I could move around and be alert by the time my 9:00 interview rolled around. Right - interview - on Tuesday or Wednesday, the people from Reuters e-mailed me to set up a phone interview.

Now, this interview was supposed to be just a formality. The head of the COM department, who has been incredibly reassuring through all of this, told me it was going to 90% proving that I speak Spanish and 10% affirming that I have the "journalistic drive." So on Thursday night, I went to a friend's house and spoke Spanish for a couple hours, to make sure I was in the zone. Didn't really reassure me, as my lack of sleep showed, but it was good practice.

Okay. Ever since I got the stamp of approval from the COM department, I feel like everyone around me has been much more certain of my success than I have been. I love my mom, but I felt like she was jinxing me when she approached everyone at church with, "Did you hear what Molly's going to be doing this summer??" MOM! Might be doing this summer, MIGHT! Anyway. The COM dept. guy continued to profess his belief that I was going to wow them in the interview, which made it really hard to not get my hopes up.

Then the interview. This was a conference call with 4 people, working out of 4 different countries in South America: Argentina, Brazil, Peru and Chile. I hate phone interviews. Isn't it only 15% of communication that comes from what we say? Without a face-to-face, I had no body language cues to go on. Which makes Spanish even harder...

...but then, they didn't seem too concerned with my Spanish. No, they preferred instead to quiz me on my knowledge of South American foreign policy. "If you were Mexico, and you saw that perhaps the U.S. wasn't the best partner, who would you trade with--which countries would you look to?"

Um.....

..............

.................

Maybe if I were a political science major focusing on Mexico, I would have an intelligent answer for that. But I'm not. And my answer did not seem to impress the British woman on the other end. British accents sound so incredibly condescending! My heart sank a little more every time she asked me a question, or responded (after a long pause) with, "Well, all right then....anyone else have any questions?"

I was only called upon to speak Spanish for about 25% of the interview. That, I wasn't worried about. Spanish is comfortable. What's not comfortable is being asked, "If you were in an elevator with the president of Argentina, what would you ask her?"

Um....."Sup"?

No, I didn't say that. I said something about how she's encouraging other women of Latin America to work toward higher positions in the government and combat the ever-present machismo. Not very politically savvy.

We all said "ciao," I hung up the phone, and leaned my head down on the table and started to cry. I felt so inadequate and stupid...as if I hadn't prepared for a final exam. I could hear the conversation taking place about me after I left the call. The nice Brazilian woman would say, "Well, she was very nice; her Spanish was very good." Then the British woman: "She didn't know anything." "Yes, but did you know all that much when you first came here?" "Well, if I really wanted a job like this, I think I would have at least researched a bit. She clearly doesn't want it enough."

Yep.

Katie (roommate) took me out to Chipotle, which was nomtastic but couldn't quite make me feel better. Talked to my dad, my mom, my editor at the Times...all still wanted to be optimistic, which frustrated the hell out of me. They hadn't heard how stupid I was on the interview! I didn't want to hear more parent-like conviction that it was all going to work out. It's nice to have people believe in me, but I felt they were prolonging the inevitable reality.

I went up to talk to the COM dept. guy, before my Spanish rehearsal, and he was very surprised to hear about the interview. He hadn't expected anything like that, he said; maybe they got mixed up in what they were supposed to be testing me for. Reuters has a deal with the UW, and a few other universities, where they take one of our interns every year. This interview, again, was supposed to be a formality. Domke said I should email the main Reuters guy and tell him that I wasn't prepared to answer questions with the level of knowledge they asked me, but that I was more than willing to familiarize myself with those things.

I left his office feeling a bit better; he said, "I know you're really anxious about this, but I'll fight really hard for you...Don't worry, we're gonna get you down there." I drafted the email on my phone, and sent it to him, to check it. As it sent, however, my phone loaded my new emails, and I had one from Domke:

"Molly: Don't send that email! Or if you did, don't worry. I just got an email from Greg; he said you did well!! We'll discuss placement next week."

.....

Placement. As in, JOB PLACEMENT. As in, LATIN AMERICA. As in I GOT IT!!

Joder. A sudden, unforeseeable end to 6 of the most hellishly stressful hours of my life. But it all worked out in the end.

This is a really long, very journal-y blog post. Hopefully my next post will be just 2 words: "Buenos Aires." It'll be cold, but I'd much rather go there than Mexico City. 20 million people and pollution during the hottest part of the year? No, gracias...but of course, I'll be happy no matter where I go.

Hola, dream job. No more running off, okay? Let's hang out for a bit, you and I.

Love always,

molly

I plead the 1st.

When I decided I wanted to be a journalist, way back in 9th or 10th grade, I knew I wasn't going to be a millionaire. I didn't care; I said I wanted to be happy, and that was enough. I just figured I'd marry rich (just kidding! but seriously...).

Still, it's becoming more and more disconcerting to hear journalists talk about the industry. At the Times last quarter, when I introduced myself as the intern to one of the seasoned reporters, he said, "Oh, so you're here to witness the end?"

Then there's Overheard in the Newsroom, this fmylife-esque site devoted entirely to the news industry:

Editor, talking to visiting Cub Scouts: “Have you ever thought about starting your own newspaper?”

Reporter, under her breath: “Have you ever thought of starting a blacksmith’s shop? Some people might say that industry is in decline, but there will always be people with horses.”

Posted on Jan 28.10 to Overheard | No Comments »

So that's fun.

Really, though. News is vital. Newspapers are vital. I understand that my generation will never be the generation to spend money on a subscription and get the paper every day on their doorstep and read it with their morning coffee. That's fine. I don't pick up newspapers either - unless my stories are in them. There's a thrill in seeing your name in print that just doesn't happen with online.

But the fact that we don't like paper newspapers doesn't mean that we don't need those publications. I've heard people at my own school newspaper say that you can get all the news you need from a Twitter post. THIS IS PATENTLY FALSE. I acknowledge that Twitter is an amazing tool for covering breaking news. I recognize that during the elections in Iran, the only news that was getting out was via Twitter. But Twitter gives you headlines. There is still a huge need for in-depth reporting and investigative journalism.

How would we have found out about Watergate if it weren't for Woodward and Bernstein? Do you think we could have gotten there with Twitter? NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS! And yet, across the country, newspapers are cutting their investigative teams. They're the first thing to go, because they're the most expensive, and it's a mistake. A fatal error.

I'm willing and excited to go into this job and make no money. I'll make it work. But it terrifies me to hear people explain why they don't need newspapers. The way I see it, we're the most important piece of the checks-and-balances system of this country. We check the checkers.

This is probably too much exposition, and I don't know what I'm trying to get out of it, other than to say that I haven't given up hope on the newspaper industry yet, and neither should anybody else.

Also, I just had my interview for the Foreign Intrigue internship, and I'm freaking out because I want it so badly, and I have this gut feeling that I'm not going to get it.

Love always,

molly

suspense

Last March, I applied for the Foreign Intrigue internship in Latin America through my school's COM department. I didn't get it. On December 1, I submitted an application for an internship with Reuters in Latin America. As it's been almost 2 months with no word, I'm assuming I didn't get that, either.

Now, I'm applying again for the Foreign Intrigue internship through the COM department. It's actually the exact same Reuters internship that I already applied to straight through Reuters, only this time, my school chooses who gets it, instead of Reuters.

I want it so badly I can barely focus on anything else.

I'm so much more qualified this year. I interned at 2 newspapers last year, including *chya!* THE SEATTLE TIMES. Before that, I lived in Spain for 4 months. I'm still fluent in Spanish, and I'm comfortable using it. I'm passionate about what I do and excited about my future.

Wouldn't you want to hire me??

So yes. I'll turn in the application on Friday. All I need are 3 glowing recommendations from my journalism teacher, Times editor and current Spanish professor, and I'll be just about done with it.

Please God, PLEASE. I would be perfect for this job. This job is perfect for me. What's this job? Writing for an American news agency, from a Spanish-speaking country. What's my dream job? Writing for an American news agency, from a Spanish speaking country. COME ON!!

I don't know anyone who's more qualified or more excited about this internship. This is the foot in the door that I need to have my whole future set. Pleeease let it happen!!

Love always,

molly

I like dinosaurs.

I really do. This is apparently more obvious than I knew, as two of my best friends bought me dino shirts for Christmas. One says "Gangsta Saurus" and has a brontosaurus with a do-rag and dino bling; the other says "Dinosaurs are Dino-Mite!" and is kelly green with a stegosaurus. Dinosaurs are rad.

Anyway.

I think I haven't written any "omg it's the new year!" shtuff yet because, to be honest, I'm really not all that jazzed about this year so far. Last year was a good one for me. I learned a lot, grew up in some important ways, had some amazing experiences. I was sad to say goodbye to 2009. 2010 has thus far been... unimpressive.

But it's good, you know; I'm truckin' along. I'm back writing at the Daily, and designing thrice a week (I call it a good day if I get to use that word), so that's fun. Still, though. It's hard to get excited about publishing stories in the Daily, after the Seattle Times. Does that make me a cocky bastard who's upset about being a has-been? You bet.

Classes are good - 2 out of 3, anyway. I love my Spanish drama class and don't know how I've survived without any form of theater for the past 3 years. Econ is cool - I didn't think I'd like it, but it's really just common sense that I've never thought of before. Honors is...honorsy. Pretentious dicks. Stupid abstract coursework. Freshmen.

And last and least of my activities....church! Hmm. I don't like it. I don't care about it. I want to get out of everything I'm involved in. I still want to go on the Dominican trip, but only because I want to speak Spanish, go somewhere warm and get tan.

It's depressing. What's more depressing is the self-pitying thought that I have maybe 1 or 2 true friends in the entire Inn. There are about 70 people on Student Leadership alone that I should be able to call friends. But I feel like...if I didn't show up to church stuff, no one would ask, "Hey, where's Molly?" I'm not crucial.

On top of that, a requirement of being in Student Leadership is that you join a core group. I hate mine. I love the girls in it, but our leader makes me feel like I'm back in 3rd grade Sunday school. Everyone knows I'm opinionated and always right, yeah? Well, she doesn't. To say we butt heads is a pleasant-sounding understatement.

So that's rough right now. I feel myself pulling away, but forced to maintain a pretense of being super involved. That's not how it should be. I should be in a core group, on Student Leadership, going to the DR because I want to. A relationship with God should never be the result of a program requirement.

On a happier note, I've had Chipotle 3 times in the past 5 days. Awesome? You betcha. Tres tacos para llevar, por favor. Barbacoa. Tomates. Crema y mucho queso. Gracias.

Love always,

molly

some choice selections from my inbox today

First, two points:

a) I should have known that writing a story about guns & gun control would bring the crazies out of the woodwork.

b) My editor whacked my story after I left, and I blame him for all the negative comments. The story that came out today is unrecognizable as my own. My story was balanced. I hate editors.


Now, here's what I've been reading this morning:

-----

"How much do you appreciate the freedom that you have as a journalist in this country – and do you know who paid the price so that you would have that freedom?"

------

"Molly,

You stated in your article: "Did the framers of our Constitution ever envision something like a semi-automatic weapon?"
Are you saying everything should be banned except muskets?

Please pull your head from your ass."

-----

"If you had "dug deeper" you would have found reasonable arguments worth reporting. Regardless of your individual view, a good reporter would have gone the extra mile to show each side. Again, you must stay neutral, and in this case, you did not."

-----

"You know that guns are not the problem. You also know or should know that a revolver shoots more accurately and faster than a semi-automatic weapon. Your real intent is obvious and blatant as displayed for all the world to see in the last sentences of the article. You trade your credibility away so easily you might as well sell it also. You should have more self respect and professionalism in your work. Reporting is about fact, not your personal opinion. Save your opinion for the editorial page. You will have to write in separately for that as you are unlikely to become the editor until you first become a successful reporter."

------

So I'm feeling really good about myself right now.

Really though - it's up to 700-something comments. That's pretty impressive, at least. The comments aren't directed at me at all; they're just discussing/arguing among themselves. And that's a lot of traffic that I'm bringing to the Web site.

With the e-mails...I toughened up by the end of the day. After all, as our cops reporter told me this morning, if I want people to blow sunshine up my ass, I'm in the wrong profession.

Love always,
molly

so work is fun

Screw you, biatch, I like my taste in music!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bWkYu-hYTZs


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8oA4hepvIWc


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ypSz8WqRc_M



WHAT.

Love always,
molly

lists

Remember how I'm opinionated and full of crap?

Okay. Good. Don't forget it.

Random things I hate strongly dislike:

--girls who have the same face in every one of their Facebook pictures.
--sorority girls who run around at night in miniskirts and tank tops in the middle of winter.
--sorority girls in general...sorry. (Individually, I have some great friends in the Greek system; on the whole...they're squealy, fake-tanned, giggly, and frighteningly identical.)
--girls who wear Ugg boots with sweatpants.
--people who talk/whisper loudly during class when the professor is talking.
--people who leave me hateful voicemails on my work phone. :(
--the amount of coverage the Tiger Woods affair story has gotten. I mean, really.
--the Italian justice system.
--the person in the newsroom who has my alarm clock tone set as their ringtone.
--the douchey bus driver who has somehow been my bus driver like 8 times this week.
--people who judge me for not going to football games. FOOTBALL IS STUPID. And it's cold out.

To counteract this,

Random things I love:

--people who call me "sweetie," "honey," "babe," or "Molls."
--my Spanish teacher.
--Chipotle (and the fact that they don't judge me for eating there oncetwicethreetimes a week.)
--Garamond.
--speed scrabble.
--kitty videos on YouTube.
--the sunny, clear weather we've been having.
--getting to see the work of friends who are brilliantly artsy.
--jersey sheets.
--our funcional heater.
--copy+paste function on my phone.
--working at the Seattle Times.


Lists generally make me feel productive. That's why I chose to do this instead of start my homework. Good decision, I think.

Love always,
molly