Observation: Beds are for SLEEPING.
May 12, 2010 may just be a date for the history books.
It's the day my mom resigned from her twenty-year term as master and commander of...
An ambitious cadet by the name of Parker thought it might be fun to take on the general's duties.
Little did he know he'd be fighting a battle that'd already been lost.
Time and time again.
I've explained this all before.
The me-lees of the night owl and the early riser.
And despite my knack for acknowledging that there is indeed a problem,
I'm absolutely incompetent when it comes to finding a way to solve it.
Good news though,
it gives me funny stories.
Like the other night.
I walk into the bedroom, laptop in tow, ready to multi-task the night away.
As I crawl into bed my little snuggle bug comes to cuddle me.
I settle into his strong arms, smile, then reach for my computer.
Before I even have a finger on it...
"Put the 'puter down."
He cuts me off.
"No, no buts. Can't you see I'm in desperate need of your attention?"
"I'm CRYING for your attention!"
He sniffs and wipes away a phony tear after a few exaggerated wails.
I just laugh and let him win.
What's one victory for the battered general?
Beds really are for sleeping anyhow.
Consideration: a Master's maybe?
I'd promised myself I would never work with entertainment news.
I refused to waste my talents on an industry that's success stemmed directly from its ability to stir audiences with sensationalism and hype.
Which glamorous celebrity’s Hollywood life could possibly merit the attention of millions of viewers?
I can’t think of one.
Because it just seems so very silly to me that the most trivial aspects of life suddenly become news if multi-platinum recording artists or Academy Award-winning actors or snooty and spoiled rich kids are caught on camera doing it.
Anytime I come across a feature detailing Kim Kardashian’s $100,000 handbag shopping spree,
a cover story on Taylor Swift’s beau,
or a blip about Mary-Kate & Ashley's latest latte stop,
it reminds me why I absolutely deplore the E! News-style story.
It’s not news!
(It makes me wonder, too, why so many people LIVE to be "in the know."
how is your life so small that you care THAT much about someone else's?
someone you don't even know.
Maybe the drama's their draw.
Which still, to me, makes their lives seem sad.
but that's an entirely separate subject...)
Despite my distaste for entertainment news, I spent a good deal of my time as a BYU broadcast student with its closest relative—features.
As the BYU Daily News Friday 411 reporter, I dedicated my time to finding the hottest spots for a bit of weekend fun.
Sound like entertainment news?
It gets better.
I spent the next year at ABC4’s Good Things Utah dreaming up hot topics for “table-talk” and helping coordinating producers track down local celebs.
And then—my cherry on top—I joined The Daily Dish; a show that dedicates its entire A, B, and C blocks to segments called “Hot Dish, Quick Dish, and ...wait for it...Celeb Dish.”
I’d nearly become that girl I promised I’d never be.
The only difference between us—I still knew what news was, and what it was not.
And let me tell you, my internships were not news internships—
because I had way too much fun.
(I still assert, however, that there is a monumental difference between feature shows and celebrity news.
I haven't crossed over the dark side just yet.)
How, may you ask, does that realization tie into my decision to maybe pursue a master's?
I missed it.
the minute I walked out the back door of ABC4
I wanted to turn and go back inside.
And with the end of my college career less than a week away,
and the only certain aspect of my future my 9-5 days at the bank (eek!!!),
the more I realize just how abruptly I'll be turning my back on the broadcast world.
And I wonder if that's really what I want.
Live the banker's life
and say so long to creation and innovation and having something SHOW for your work outside of a paycheck from the bank to which you've sold your soul?
(oh the irony...)
I'm slowly figuring out what it is that I do want.
It changes every day.
But one thing never does change.
I want to keep learning.
And whether that means getting a master's in events planning,
or even education
(that's kind of a stretch; broadcast writing just has me trained to abide by the list-maker's "rule of threes")
I know I'll be loving the learning curve every step of the way.
Realization: I'm a more confident college coed than back in the Bond days
My Wednesdays are insane.
I wake up for my internship.
Fly down I-80 like a bullet to make sure I make it before air time.
Beat feet to finish all my intern duties after back-to-back shows before zooming off to Provo.
Fight traffic on the I-15.
Arrive to advanced reporting 5-10 minutes late, without fail.
Then realize about twenty minutes into class that I am starving.
As soon as I'm out I'm off to the Cougareat to squeak in a meal, all the while studying for my two-and-a-half hour 4 o'clock class.
Because as soon as that's over, I'm on two wheels back to Salt Lake to make our 7 o'clock YW activity.
We all have them.
But the point of this post is that, back in my dorm days, I did not dare dine in the Cougareat alone.
Heaven forbid someone take me to be the lunch-hour leper!
Because I had friends.
Lots of them.
And I'd rather go hungry than have someone think otherwise.
Fast-forward to 2010.
Every Wednesday I eat alone.
Do I prefer dining as a party of one?
I'd take a warm body over my ice water and cold L&T salad any day.
and this is a big but,
I'm okay with it.
I am absolutely okay with being alone (for awhile).
Because sometime in the last 3 years
I realized what others think of me may not always match up with my reality.
And it in no way defines me.
Just because some self-proclaimed hot shot at the bank thinks I'm an empty-headed half-wit programmed to spout off unnaturally cheery hellos does not mean I'm brainless.
Just because another ward's YW leader judges my hit-and-miss attendance at Wednesday planning meetings (that overlap with my school schedule, mind you) as apathy doesn't mean I don't care.
Just because someone who sees me clip-clopping around campus in my best broadcast heels is surprised when that I'm decent enough to hold the door open for them doesn't mean I'm the narcissistic snoot they originally took me to be.
And just because a classmate secretly believes I've sold out by trading broadcast success for a successful marriage does not mean I'm a failure who gave up on my dreams.
I just traded one.
Traded it for another that's bringing me exponentially more happiness than I ever could have hoped to find had I kept it.
somewhere along the line, I decided my confidence was no longer conditional upon other people.
Some days I think it's all thanks to Parker,
a maturity everyone takes away from marriage
when they realize they really are unconditionally loved by someone who, unlike family, did not have to love them from Day 1.
Other times, I think it's me;
something that came when I decided being me was enough.
(and a heck of a lot easier than trying to be perfect...)
And then there's the days I think it's all a part of growing up.
something we all learn along the way.
some earlier. some later. some much, much later.
but, in the end, something we'll all overcome sometime in our lives.
Whatever it is,
and whatever it was for me,
I'm grateful for it.
I think it's one of the many reasons life is so incredibly happy right now.
I'm kind of hoping it'll stay that way...