The eye doctor smiled and said these new glasses would "correct" my vision and help me see clearer. Yet, since leaving her office, I feel my introspection waning as I stare at perceived objects, manipulated shapes, sharp distinctions.
"The devil really is in the details," I think aloud, as my lenses continue to capture the forced contrasts among images, the lines that distinguish what is what. Who is who.
Frustrated, I begin to curse the images. I've traded in my beautiful eyes, "tainted" and "poor," for a manufactured way of seeing. What a "healthy" investment!
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
Why write?
Below is my response to the question, "Why do you write?"
I write because I love to read my words aloud, to hear the way they roll off of my tongue and slide out of my lips. The passion that quickly pushes them out and almost just as suddenly wishes to suck them back in. I write to awe and inspire myself and others, to re-read what I have written and marvel at my thoughts. I write to relive those emotions that made my words possible and plausible. I write because I do not wish to stop being great. I write because I feel honest when I do it. I feel that I can cry on the page without shedding a tear. I write so others will hear what I fear to say out loud. I write because I feel the power within when the words begin flowing and that power is maintained as long as I keep them going.
Do you write? If so, why? If not, why not?
I write because I love to read my words aloud, to hear the way they roll off of my tongue and slide out of my lips. The passion that quickly pushes them out and almost just as suddenly wishes to suck them back in. I write to awe and inspire myself and others, to re-read what I have written and marvel at my thoughts. I write to relive those emotions that made my words possible and plausible. I write because I do not wish to stop being great. I write because I feel honest when I do it. I feel that I can cry on the page without shedding a tear. I write so others will hear what I fear to say out loud. I write because I feel the power within when the words begin flowing and that power is maintained as long as I keep them going.
Do you write? If so, why? If not, why not?
Sunday, May 6, 2012
Who Are You?
Last week, we focused on what we do, while somewhat questioning who we are. This week, let's focus more on the latter.
When thinking of myself as a journalist, or a reporter, or a writer, I tend to focus on the titles and what they mean rather than the weight of the responsibilities attached to each. Do I really inform my readers as best as I can or am I focusing more on finishing an article to collect my paycheck?
If I am focused more on collecting my paycheck, my attention is focused less on informing my readers. The process of writing or reporting becomes less about them and more about me, therefore making me a selfish person, not a journalist, a reporter, or a writer. Likewise, if I am focused on informing my readers instead of collecting my paycheck, I am also no longer a journalist, reporter, or a writer. I am compassionate and "truthseeking," which I interpret as "storyseeking."
Making our titles truly reflect who we are is an ongoing process that I feel begins when we think about the qualities we desire to reveal. Focusing on these qualities and whether our actions are aligned with them will transfer them into our beings and what we do will follow. We can define journalist, reporter, or writer, if not in Websters then at least in our own minds.
What are the responsibilities attached to your title? Does this title reflect who you are? Which qualities make up your being and are they the ones you want?
When thinking of myself as a journalist, or a reporter, or a writer, I tend to focus on the titles and what they mean rather than the weight of the responsibilities attached to each. Do I really inform my readers as best as I can or am I focusing more on finishing an article to collect my paycheck?
If I am focused more on collecting my paycheck, my attention is focused less on informing my readers. The process of writing or reporting becomes less about them and more about me, therefore making me a selfish person, not a journalist, a reporter, or a writer. Likewise, if I am focused on informing my readers instead of collecting my paycheck, I am also no longer a journalist, reporter, or a writer. I am compassionate and "truthseeking," which I interpret as "storyseeking."
Making our titles truly reflect who we are is an ongoing process that I feel begins when we think about the qualities we desire to reveal. Focusing on these qualities and whether our actions are aligned with them will transfer them into our beings and what we do will follow. We can define journalist, reporter, or writer, if not in Websters then at least in our own minds.
What are the responsibilities attached to your title? Does this title reflect who you are? Which qualities make up your being and are they the ones you want?
Saturday, April 28, 2012
What do you do?
"What do you do?"
Someone asked me this the other day. Actually, I am asked this a lot. Usually, when asked, I get anxious and tongue-tied, managing to reply something like, "I'm a journalist," or "I'm a reporter," or "I'm a writer."
Why do I get nervous? Because I do so much and I'm not sure how to tell people this. For example, I write articles, which is much more involved than sitting in front of a computer and typing away. There is researching who and what I will be covering, going to events, and interviewing people, to name a few tasks. Then there are the skills I need to develop to properly do all of those things, like listening, questioning, making conversation. In order to properly develop those skills, I need to work on my character qualities, including patience, humbleness, and confidence. So how do I say all of this when people want a soundbite, not a mouthful?
I might have nailed it this last time I was asked, "What do you do?" Instead of nervously stammering away, I paused to think while gazing into the distance. Then I looked the person in the eyes, and said, "Exactly what I'm doing now."
What a simple, yet obvious reply. Strip away my job title, the work that goes with it, the skills needed to complete the work, the character development, and I was just standing there in the presence of someone else. That's what I was doing.
How often do we talk about what we do as opposed to actually doing something? What about just focusing on what we are doing instead of what we want others to think we are doing? Do we ever wonder why the other person is asking?
What do you do?
Someone asked me this the other day. Actually, I am asked this a lot. Usually, when asked, I get anxious and tongue-tied, managing to reply something like, "I'm a journalist," or "I'm a reporter," or "I'm a writer."
Why do I get nervous? Because I do so much and I'm not sure how to tell people this. For example, I write articles, which is much more involved than sitting in front of a computer and typing away. There is researching who and what I will be covering, going to events, and interviewing people, to name a few tasks. Then there are the skills I need to develop to properly do all of those things, like listening, questioning, making conversation. In order to properly develop those skills, I need to work on my character qualities, including patience, humbleness, and confidence. So how do I say all of this when people want a soundbite, not a mouthful?
I might have nailed it this last time I was asked, "What do you do?" Instead of nervously stammering away, I paused to think while gazing into the distance. Then I looked the person in the eyes, and said, "Exactly what I'm doing now."
What a simple, yet obvious reply. Strip away my job title, the work that goes with it, the skills needed to complete the work, the character development, and I was just standing there in the presence of someone else. That's what I was doing.
How often do we talk about what we do as opposed to actually doing something? What about just focusing on what we are doing instead of what we want others to think we are doing? Do we ever wonder why the other person is asking?
What do you do?
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
A mirror image = a mere image?
Last week, I stopped looking at myself in the mirror. I don't mean staring into the mirror, searching for my soul; I mean all together, I avoid it.
I have committed to this act of bravery because I want to know Nessessary, who she is inside, not out. I want to develop my qualities inwardly and reflect them onto who and what I come into contact with, allowing others to be the mirrors I spent hours across a week gazing into out of vanity.
My sense of self has been building up in me for quite some time and I noticed that as I desired to become more aware of myself, I spent more time in the mirror. I feel this is a hindrance for me because I was constantly judging myself by standards I had learned from a dominant culture not concerned with my inner qualities. Further, this culture wants me to see myself as a whole, rather than a part of the world, connected to other necessary (Nessessary) parts.
My ongoing experiment without the mirror is teaching me that I am one with everything and all is Nessessary. I am also realizing how many items I use daily that actually contain my reflection: the frame around my laptop, vehicles, knobs on cabinets, etc. Funny how when I try to avoid something, I notice it more...
So talk to me (write to me), are you aware of how much time you spend in the mirror every day? Why do you look into it? How do you feel while gazing? What are some of your thoughts as you admire or attack your image? Is it possible or even plausible to seek your reflection via the faces of other people, animals, plants, machinery, etc.?
I have committed to this act of bravery because I want to know Nessessary, who she is inside, not out. I want to develop my qualities inwardly and reflect them onto who and what I come into contact with, allowing others to be the mirrors I spent hours across a week gazing into out of vanity.
My sense of self has been building up in me for quite some time and I noticed that as I desired to become more aware of myself, I spent more time in the mirror. I feel this is a hindrance for me because I was constantly judging myself by standards I had learned from a dominant culture not concerned with my inner qualities. Further, this culture wants me to see myself as a whole, rather than a part of the world, connected to other necessary (Nessessary) parts.
My ongoing experiment without the mirror is teaching me that I am one with everything and all is Nessessary. I am also realizing how many items I use daily that actually contain my reflection: the frame around my laptop, vehicles, knobs on cabinets, etc. Funny how when I try to avoid something, I notice it more...
So talk to me (write to me), are you aware of how much time you spend in the mirror every day? Why do you look into it? How do you feel while gazing? What are some of your thoughts as you admire or attack your image? Is it possible or even plausible to seek your reflection via the faces of other people, animals, plants, machinery, etc.?
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
iTuned Out
As I was driving from OC to LA last week, I kept looking in my rearview, somewhat expecting to see flashing police/medic lights. I could have sworn I heard a high-pitched noise, but when I discovered there was no emergency behind me and I would not be getting harassed (I am rockin' the 'fro mind you), I relaxed some and returned back to the music in my headphones...
Perhaps I should have mentioned those first, or thought about the effect they might have on my driving. There were instances when I looked down to change the tune and if traffic had been heavier, I might have looked up and realized those medics were needed after all (though, I still wouldn't have wanted to see Johnny Law-ahem, Papito.).
Am I introverted to the point where I can no longer stand the radio and further disconnect with the world and even other drivers, just to find comfort and pleasure in my own world of tunes? I even listen to the music in my headphones while I take walks, which have increased lately (I wonder if this is due to the knowledge that I have the music to distract my exercise). How effective am I in the environment around me if I disengage constantly to seek security (a home) in my own head with little if any interaction with what's happening around me? If I can't relay what I'm thinking or feeling to the outside world, can I relate?
It's not just me, though. I strolled past a bank last week and saw a security guard standing outside, also with headphones in his ears. How effectively could he do his job of protecting the bank, its staff, patrons, and money, if he was somewhat distracted? Could he do his job at all? Was the distraction just a look to deceive others? When I came across another security guard with headphones, this time near LA Kennedy High School, I decided to ask him if I could try out one of his headphones to test the decibel level and see if anything audibly emitted. It was nowhere near as loud as what I am accustomed to.
Who else out there listens to the voices in their head (ie. headphones) about as much or more than you listen to other people in your surrounding area? Has the mass-production and increased technology related to music truly given us a "universal language" or just made it possible and acceptable for us to become less communicative?
Perhaps I should have mentioned those first, or thought about the effect they might have on my driving. There were instances when I looked down to change the tune and if traffic had been heavier, I might have looked up and realized those medics were needed after all (though, I still wouldn't have wanted to see Johnny Law-ahem, Papito.).
Am I introverted to the point where I can no longer stand the radio and further disconnect with the world and even other drivers, just to find comfort and pleasure in my own world of tunes? I even listen to the music in my headphones while I take walks, which have increased lately (I wonder if this is due to the knowledge that I have the music to distract my exercise). How effective am I in the environment around me if I disengage constantly to seek security (a home) in my own head with little if any interaction with what's happening around me? If I can't relay what I'm thinking or feeling to the outside world, can I relate?
It's not just me, though. I strolled past a bank last week and saw a security guard standing outside, also with headphones in his ears. How effectively could he do his job of protecting the bank, its staff, patrons, and money, if he was somewhat distracted? Could he do his job at all? Was the distraction just a look to deceive others? When I came across another security guard with headphones, this time near LA Kennedy High School, I decided to ask him if I could try out one of his headphones to test the decibel level and see if anything audibly emitted. It was nowhere near as loud as what I am accustomed to.
Who else out there listens to the voices in their head (ie. headphones) about as much or more than you listen to other people in your surrounding area? Has the mass-production and increased technology related to music truly given us a "universal language" or just made it possible and acceptable for us to become less communicative?
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Homelessness is...?
I'm somewhat in the process of writing an article on homelessness in Los Angeles County. According to stats, LA County is one of the wealthiest counties in the United States, with the highest population of homeless individuals. Over the past few years, the numbers are in decline and LA County's city mayors have been pushing to continue the trend. Still, while strolling down Wilshire Blvd. on any given day, I see no less than five homeless people in 30 minutes (and this is in Brentwood, a highly exclusive area).
It occurred to me this weekend though, I may be stereotyping people as being homeless. Just because I saw a man sitting in the shade of a tree outside a restaurant, dressed raggedly with bags beside him, gazing at something I must not have seen; this does not prove he is homeless. Because I didn't have the courage to ask him, I proceeded down the street, vowing to ask the next coherent, homeless looking individual whether or not my perception was valid.
Nearing Santa Monica, I approached a homeless looking gentleman who smiled at me as I got closer. As I began to pass, I stopped him to ask him directions to somewhere I somewhat knew the location of, buying time to work up the guts to ask him what I really meant to. Finally, I asked him if he was homeless. He responded wittily, "I don't have any property in my name."
After we departed, I started brainstorming my own thoughts on homelessness. Why was he labeled homeless and not I? Was he not at home in the streets where I would feel lost if left on my own? If "home is where the heart is," he was at home, walking down the street with a smile on his face, reflecting a merry heart. I on the other hand was battling with myself at heart, frustrated with the knowledge that all I work to gain will never make me as happy as he appeared to be in that moment.
What are your thoughts on homelessness? Is a home just security? If so, can any of us ever truly have a home? Can security be guaranteed? In security, do we just make up for our own insecurity, the lack of security we feel inside with ourselves and the others we're around?
It occurred to me this weekend though, I may be stereotyping people as being homeless. Just because I saw a man sitting in the shade of a tree outside a restaurant, dressed raggedly with bags beside him, gazing at something I must not have seen; this does not prove he is homeless. Because I didn't have the courage to ask him, I proceeded down the street, vowing to ask the next coherent, homeless looking individual whether or not my perception was valid.
Nearing Santa Monica, I approached a homeless looking gentleman who smiled at me as I got closer. As I began to pass, I stopped him to ask him directions to somewhere I somewhat knew the location of, buying time to work up the guts to ask him what I really meant to. Finally, I asked him if he was homeless. He responded wittily, "I don't have any property in my name."
After we departed, I started brainstorming my own thoughts on homelessness. Why was he labeled homeless and not I? Was he not at home in the streets where I would feel lost if left on my own? If "home is where the heart is," he was at home, walking down the street with a smile on his face, reflecting a merry heart. I on the other hand was battling with myself at heart, frustrated with the knowledge that all I work to gain will never make me as happy as he appeared to be in that moment.
What are your thoughts on homelessness? Is a home just security? If so, can any of us ever truly have a home? Can security be guaranteed? In security, do we just make up for our own insecurity, the lack of security we feel inside with ourselves and the others we're around?
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