Wedlocked

Time saving strategies, CLICK HERE!

There's an interesting feature on my calendar at the mac.com website.

You can create all sorts of calendar categories, one for work, one for school, one for home. I have seven including a calendar for SDSU, Infinite Summer (I know, shutup I didn't read the damn book), GRE study schedule (uhhhhh....what?), Work, Home, Jazzercise (knock it all you want Iron and Ink it's a great workout), and Cancer Resource Center of the Desert . Lately with the house, and school starting up and my unexpected return to the workforce (although it is a short-time gig), that calendar has been off the charts.

When I can't fit into the little box on the screen everything that I'm supposed to do that day, I hit panic mode. I like all my to dos right where I can see them. It's when they sneak down to a bottom "and one more event" that things feel out of control. I'm the same way about my e-mail inbox. File, delete, or keep in there if it hasn't been addressed. But the days that I have to scroll down to look at all the e-mails, it's time to clean house.

The problem with my calendar is I don't have time to clean the house right now. Funds are always appreciated and working is an essential part of that. I tried to make money by staying home and doing nothing, it doesn't quite work. And some people call it "schlepping." The problem with Jazzercise right now is I'm working. School's starting on Monday and I can't change the move date into the new house because paying for rent and a mortgage just sounds silly. GRE? Uh, is it bleeding? Is it past due? Will it be disconnected? It's off the list all together.

Did I mention I volunteered (perhaps even jokingly suggested) my mother come stay for a couple of weeks to help with the house?

I discovered a neat little box that made me feel so much better today. Turn out by each one of those calendas, you click a button and it turns it off. Click. Just like that. GRE prep? Gone. Infinite Summer? Fuck it. But what about those obligations that you can't just click off?

Last year I started volunteering at CRCD, a local cancer organization. I offered to use my abilities to redesign, write and layout their newsletter that needed a personal touch. My offer was warmly accepted and the reception of my work in the last year has been tremendous. I'm so honored to be able to do that. This time, the newsletter sits there, waiting to be completed, waiting, waiting, waiting. That's the hard thing about obligations that I'd readily say yes to. Heck, I called them to volunteer. This is something I want to do, I like to do, it's something that's personal to my heart.

But I feel guilty. I feel guilty that the stuff with the house and work has pushed the completion another week. I feel guilty that I feel perhaps I could've finished it somehow, if I were a better time manager. I feel guilty that it's work not for me, personally, but for a non-profit. They certainly deserve better than an e-mail explaining it'll be one more week...

I don't know how some people manage to get it all done. I'm of the opinion that if you're doing everything 100% you're a total liar. Nothing gets done 100% when you have 100 things to do. Sometimes things like that newsletter are number one, the first thing on my list when I get up. Other times, job comes first, and it's my husband's day off, and I have to go grocery shopping, and I have to pack up the house because we're moving on Friday.

There are times in my life I love deadlines. For the most part, they keep me on task. The days that I don't have to drag and drop a to-do onto the next day and the next, that's a good productive day. But things get in the way sometimes. We didn't schedule ourselves to buy a house and it's taken so much more out of us than we thought, it's really f-in stressful! Most of it has been really awesome and some of it has been really hectic and we're not getting much else done because of the barrage of phone calls and paperwork.

Now that's all going to calm down, we're going to get into the house. But the calendar of things that have been clicked off await, their own deadlines quickly approaching. That CRCD newsletter should have been done already. That's on me. Infinite Summer? Maybe next summer. GRE? Well, that October test date isn't too far around the bend. SDSU starts on Monday.

Even tonight, I'm frantic, trying to sort out the rest of my week. Making lists are sometimes a task in itself, because it reminds you of everything you have yet to accomplish. Hey, how about writing down all the stuff I DID get done today?

Sometimes things have to wait and consequences will likely follow. Sometimes you will disappoint people, especially when  you volunteer, but that's the sideways nature of volunteering, it will not always be a priority. All I can do is keep those things on my list. I keep working towards getting it done.

As twisted as it sounds, in my opinion, that's a lot better than clicking that box and shutting it off permanently. Otherwise, you're left with nothing to do.

Preemptive strike against sarcastic comments regarding the time it took to write this blog: Uh, yeah, I could've probably cranked out a story during the time I took to write this. Writing is my therapy. This is where I talk it all out. So, technically, I would've been stunted from writing because all of this would've been going on in my head at the same time that I would've tried to write. Trust me, I've done the math, it works.

Greater than Fiction

Those who have never worked in a newsroom are sometimes fascinated and often disappointed with the way it really is. They imagine rows of shouting reporters on the phone with important people going, "Tell me the truth!" or "Where did you REALLY get that Mercedes?" and demanding justice on all fronts. When I used to work in the newsroom, I'd tell them about the desks, arranged in a random pattern, and there was very little shouting. At least between news sources and reporters.

The newsroom is like any other office in a lot of ways, you have a bit of office politics mixed in with the self-righteousness of a handful of people in a creative field that lends serious debate to who's "passionate" about their "career" and duties as a "journalist." But the office is also like any other- I sometimes had days when I didn't feel like writing, I felt like I turned in stories that were total crap, and other days I left feeling like even if one reader didn't call about a feature story, I still loved it.

Like any other office, there are the days you remember, the kind of days you longed for in the office (a good mix of breaking news, teamwork, and people on a mission to cover something from all angles) and the days you'd rather forget (the day I missed deadlines, the days stories fell through, the hours spent at some city council meetings that went on F-O-R-E-V-E-R).

 

But now that I'm filling in for a couple of weeks at the Press, what I miss the most is the random office discussions that come about while throwing around story ideas or commenting on national news gossip topics.

 

Stripper poles: empowering or sexist?

What five albums would you take with you on a deserted island?

If you had to karaoke or die, what song would you sing?

In my years previously in the newsroom, I had witnessed (and once been a part of) full-on shouting matches, a reporter throwing a phone or hanging up on a source, and uncontrollable laughter over some unrelated topics. On more than one occasion, my former cohort (Eric Galvan) and I used to decide which people in the newsroom would fit into the character/likeness/outfits of Star Wars. If you read this article, I guess you could say when I worked full-time at the Press I was partly on protege status. Only partly because our newsroom doesn't exactly fall into the "luxury" mold.

But the rest of the time, it was people with phone jammed between their necks and their shoulders, typing away. Or with headphones on because they were in the zone of writing a story. Or in my case, rewriting the lede four times to try and get the pacing just right.

I've been out of the newsroom for about a year and going back has been like slipping back into a pair of comfortable weekend jeans. Except they don't fit quite right anymore because either you changed or the jeans changed or both. Many things haven't changed, the people filling the desks are different. For the most part it's nice to be around people again when I'm writing because much of my school writing and stories in the last year have been written from home. Don't get me wrong, I love rubbing my feet on the dogs while I'm getting paid to write, but I think pets in the newsroom are still frowned upon.

After this next week I'll go back to my old routine, and there's more than enough to keep me busy. We're packing, cleaning, and preparing to move into our first home. Working full-time, for some reason, is more tiring to me than spending time reading for class, writing papers, and attending class for countless hours a week. I've lived in the luxury of not having to punch a clock for a year, but it's more and more evident to me that the demands of working at a newspaper as a reporter doesn't wait, call you back, or stop because of the clock.

Already I got home later than I said I would- twice. That's just the nature of the gig.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss it. I'd be lying if I said I missed every. single. little. thing. about. it. As much as sitting around for two weeks sounds awesome, I'm really glad I'm in the newsroom even if it is just for a few more days. There's a part of me as a student that misses writing outside of the academic realm regularly. There's a part of me as a writer who wants to explore literary journalism and the Press gives me the freedom to develop my voice and style. There's a part of me as a wife that feels a bit guilty about not working full-time anymore, especially when my return to the workforce is up in the air.

The hardest thing about not being in the newsroom is the things that happened out of the newsroom that shaped me as a writer. The people I met, the people I interviewed, the people's stories I attempted to retell. Now as a student the people I write about are authors, some of them who are dead, many of whom would probably not even bother taking my call. I guess it's hard for me to decide what I love doing more: writing about what's been written and trying to do something new or creating something new altogether.

The wrap-up of my week is pretty typical of both working in a newsroom and a week in class. Some stories were throwaways (not something you particularly valued, but had to get done), some were interesting (interesting topic, interesting to write) and others something you'll remember for a while (a strong story with strong writing).

What I've learned is people's lives have stories that are greater than fiction. And some fiction is greater than anyone's life story. The art really comes down to relaying it on paper, whether it's in a bound novel or in newsprint. Good ideas are found everywhere. Great book ideas could be lost without the right voice. Having the courage to lay it all out there and take a chance can always be done. Writing it? Well, that is a whole other story.

Pinch me

Our mortgage got approved this morning.

And I hit my 40 pound weight loss mark.

Details forthcoming.

Life is Random

Why not post occasionally on random thoughts?

Sometimes, on the days I'm really struggling, the dog farts and it stinks so bad it makes me laugh.