I am newly obsessed with the movie “Garden State.” I watched it three times last weekend. Let’s ignore the fact that I had the time to watch a movie three times, and focus instead on the beautiful sadness of this movie. It touches on themes that resonate with everyone, no matter who they are or where they’ve come from – wanting to be happy, fear of being happy, wanting to be loved, fear of being loved, wanting to be safe and finding the person that provides that safe haven for you.
I think that emotional safety has more to do with who you’re with, and less about life situations and circumstances. There have been many times in my life when everything was spinning into pieces, but there was someone to hold me and make it better, and I think that kind of safety means more to all of us than we’d like to admit. At least that’s true for me, because as much as I always want to be strong about everything, and for everyone else, I have realized that there’s also somehing beautiful about trusting someone else to hold you when it goes to shit – there’s beauty in the breakdown.
This ethics tangent is completely unprovoked, there is no agenda to my discussion. I guess it’s just good to remind yourself why you do what you do. This is why I do what I do, even if it’s on a very small scale right now.
I really like to believe in the power of the media, and I really like to believe that they make a difference. And I really like to believe that I too, will one day make a difference. Maybe not by being a Pulitzer Prize-winning whistle-blower, but by being the writer who told that story right, true. It might not be a lot, but it’s something.
I really like to believe that everyone is as idealistic as I am. And even I am not so naive as to think that THAT is true. But if the idealism of one can be a spark that lights the flames of many, who’s to say we can’t ignite the hearts of all by finding the truth? That has to be worth something.
I really like to believe that everyone who goes into journalism is doing it for the noblest of reasons: pursuit of passion, truth telling, passively advocating for humanity by recording our triumphs, our failures, and standing up for justice when something goes awry, even if we can only scream objectively and hope that someone can read our subtext, and know that something is wrong and desperately needs fixing. After all, journalism by its very nature is not a career of activism. It’s a career of quietly (or sometimes not so quietly) observing the comings and goings of our fellow man, and at the end of the day, knowing that something you said has given someone else a new context in which to think about the world. And that is definitely something.
So – it’s probably not a good idea to wear a wool sweater, with a wool peacoat, on a dry day, where the wind is blowing and the electricity is a chargin’. Watch out static! Or, more importantly, watch out friends and coworkers, because I don’t think I’ve ever looked more charming than today, at my most staticky…
CSU has a renowned music therapy program, and according to the department findings (for which they have won many awards, they’ll have you know) the music you listened to from age 12-19 is the music that will forever unlock certain parts of your subconcious. I know that this must be true on some fundamental level. But I think this is true of most external stimuli: the smell of Clearasil facewash reminds me of my first night away from home, the smell of rose petals reminds me of my mom, and every birthday I’ve ever celebrated with my large and crazy family at the Spaghetti Factory recalls all the birthdays before it (19 so far – because there was that one year my carnivorous uncle insisted we eat at a steak house.)
Or, I could just be in denial about the fact that Spice Girls, Ace of Base, and N*Sync will forever be the keys to unlocking the secrets of my soul.
Musical travesty if ever there was one.
Filed under My World, School
“Hilary, you cannot hold your alcohol.”
“I don’t need to hold it, I can carry it in my purse.”
“I need a tiara from Wal-Mart RIGHT NOW!”
“I think they’re sold out of princess crowns, it’s Halloween.”
“Not a fake one, a real one! They’re back by the yarn…”
“What are you for Halloween?”
“This is Michael, he is always on his phone because he thinks he is the president of the FUCKING WORLD!!!”
“Please do censor yourself. Just because you’re the birthday princess, doesn’t mean you get to be rude.”
“If I was really a princess you would buy me a tiara.”
“Melinda, go to the temple!”
Many thanks to my friends for putting up with me, laughing with me, and for picking me up- both from the bars, and from off the floor, while I was a wailing, tiara-less Holly Golightly.