The Flower District

My time is almost up in New York, and all of a sudden, everything feels more real. I can attribute the perspective shift to my new responsibilities that more closely resemble my ambitions of a future in radio journalism, or living constantly submerged in the news world, or maybe it’s the sobering headlines that comprise that world.

I feel less motivated to explore the city, and find myself watching Al Jazeera with religious observance and listening to hours of radio news commentary every day. My New York Times email alert just popped to my desktop, informing me that a third explosion has rocked the weakest Japanese nuclear plant, and emergency workers have evacuated the site.

I have stayed in the newsroom since International Working Women’s day, and I’m honored with the caliber of projects on which I get to work. One of my proudest moments here was rushing off the 2 express train and up the stairs to my FM radio, and tuning in with my housemates just in time for the distinguished British news director to introduce “Elaine Eze-kell’s” news hour contribution. I’ve produced everything from a St. Patrick’s Day piece about green beer to an interview with a seismologist, just hours after the Japanese earthquake struck. Now I’m working on a one-hour news special that will air the day I leave.

Last Friday, I accompanied by boss to a panel discussion at Alwan for the Arts with Amy Goodman, host of Democracy Now!, and Ahdaf Soueif, an Egyptian novelist fresh from Tahrir Square. About one hundred people crammed into the room that only had capacity for half that. For the next two hours, Amy teased delicate vignettes out of Ms. Soueif about the makeshift protest camp in Egypt’s capitol. She spoke about strangers teaching one another how to combat the sear of tear gas by breathing through cloths dipped in vinegar and rinsing their eyes in Pepsi. After the talk, my boss introduced me to Amy, in his exuberant manner, telling her that I wanted to take her job someday. Amy and I both cringed and shook hands.

Although I’ve been working diligently at the station from the beginning, I viewed my internship as a sort of goofy experiment. In January and February, I would go work my butt off on Wall Street, then come back to Chelsea in the evenings and forget the internship until my alarm dragged me out of bed the next morning.Now I feel consumed by the politics, news, responsibilities and upcoming events of the station. I don’t consider myself an emotional person, but grief for the suffering finds its way into my consciousness at all times. It’s a glimpse of an exciting and dynamic life, but perhaps it’s a life that I can’t stomach.

There are many moments of relief. I just finished a two-hour phone conversation with my mother, an Ann Arbor teacher, about the future of education. She reminded me that America has faced moments of crisis before and they always pass as the pendulum swings, and instructed me to go literally smell the hyacinths in 28^th Street’s flower district. I take pleasure in the four mile walk home from work along the Battery Park, The Hudson River and The Chelsea Piers. Corny as it sounds, the statue of liberty shrouded in the evening’s atmosphere gives me goose bumps.

You Can Take The Girl Out Of The Midwest

Today was a day where I felt out of my comfort zone, and then said to myself, "Hey! That's great that you're out of your comfort zone!" but then I still felt uncomfortable. Work has been somewhat frustrating lately because after the fund drive, I am no longer a money-attracting powerhouse intern, but now fall back among the attention-needy masses. I came here to learn about news production, but it seems that it's not enough just to want to help out; in order to be respected or paid attention to, I need to be self sufficient or make a lot of noise. My boss spends his day greasing squeaky wheels, while I try to model discretion, which isn't a great way to learn things.

... I started that entry two nights ago in a bad mood, and waited for a better mood to come along after trying to fix my frustration at work. Turns out, yesterday was International Working Women's Day, and by some puzzling logic, men aren't allowed in the building.

My wishes were quietly answered, and I slid into the newsroom with the other female producers as my boss was out of the building. Right away, they put me to work, interviewing people for that night's newscast. I couldn't believe the ease of compiling stories, writing copy to accompany them and editing .wav files for broadcast. It was a total thrill. I said to one woman that I couldn't believe I had spent so much time behind the scenes, working with the fund drive, when my real niche was here. She answered me that my boss had been hogging me for the extra help.

It's funny how you can't realize the components in a system from within. Had I known that this was the situation, I would have wiggled my way into the news room weeks ago. I drafted up questions, contacted assistants to arrange interviews, researched my subjects, recorded interviews and edited them for three pieces in the news hour. I spoke with the founders of Right Rides, 350.org and the Ms. Foundation to celebrate women's day, as the Egyptian women took to the streets on the ever blaring news television above the computers.

Another bonus to add to the awesome day was I found out I got into the Thailand study abroad program at Kalamazoo (as though I wasn't already spoiled enough).

The weather's transitioning to spring and the city feels like it's waking up. I'm sitting at a raucous cafe in Chelsea where I made the very Midwestern mistake of placing my sunglasses on an empty table to mark my territory as I waited in line. Naturally, when I arrived back to the table with my coffee, the glasses were gone, and someone else had set up shop.

Another yokel moment was explaining to my boss that I thought bickering and standing up for yourself against people gossiping behind your back was a waste of time, and that ones work speaks for itself. He told me to find a new career pathway.

One cultural difference I notice here is a lot more people having ego battles in day-to-day life. Either in the workplace, or overheard, I listen to so many people partaking in meaningless dialogues where their main prerogative seems to be preventing their counterpart finding any flaw or ignorance within them. This makes for insubstantial conversations that make me want to withdraw from speaking, lest I end up in some passive aggressive battle over indie music I didn't sign up for.

I love the black and white differences between New York "time is money" and Costa Rican "pura vida" culture. Living in the two places have given me so much perspective on human behavior, and I can't wait to see what Thailand has in store.

***Listen to my contributing interview on today's news hour at 17:55.***