After his first six days of graduate classes at the Medill School of Journalism, Jason Hahn, 26, was embarrassed by how much he didn't know about writing properly.
***
I just wrote a horrible headline and a lame lede.
I'm only seven days into this quarter, but I have already come to realize that I did not know a damn thing about proper writing. I have full confidence that every blog post I've ever published to the Web was riddled with flagrant errors.
Here are a few things lingering in my mind (in no particular order):
1) I know nothing about commas.
2) Obituary writing is actually a noble, significant craft.
3) I hate AP style.
4) It's amazing how everyone in a classroom can write different headlines and ledes for the same exact story. They're like snowflakes.
5) In college, liberal arts professors hated on Christianity; in graduate school, journalism professors (and 97% of the class) hate on McCain/Palin.
6) It's nice to be in the majority this time.
7) I never thought about journalism as a crucial part of the democratic process.
8) Journalism is a vilified profession, but it has so much potential to be a sublime one.
9) Maybe being an editor wouldn't be such a bad idea.
10) I still don't know what I specifically want to do.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Waiting Alone
Well, I'm almost fully moved into my new studio apartment in Evanston, IL. I'll try to post photos later on.
Last night I was given the privilege of eating some Lou Malnati's pizza. It was delicious. (Maybe better than Giordano's.)
However, during the early part of the dinner, I noticed a woman sitting by herself at a table near ours. I was burdened by that scene, because I wanted so badly for her not to be stood up by someone. So, for a good 20 minutes I made sure to monitor her situation in the corner of my left eye, and for a good 20 minutes my fear that she would be stood up grew bigger and bigger. With it, my pity towards her ballooned.
To my relief and, strangely, happiness, her party eventually came (late, it seemed). Two men and a woman, with one man walking over to her side of the table and kissing her gently on the lips.
Disaster avoided, burden lifted, pity put to shame.
I was glad.
The one thing I noticed was her unwavering self-assurance. The woman never looked worried as she sat alone at the table. She seemed sure that her table would soon be filled, no matter how delayed.
It seems to me that this is an accurate depiction of what Christians appear to be to some non-believers. We spend so all our lives waiting for our friend to show up and rescue us from our loneliness. We (should) wait with confidence because of the pattern of faithfulness that he has already shown, and has promised to show.
Non-believers doubt that he will ever join us (or that he's even real), and some point and mock, while others just shake their heads and pity us.
I hope that we will be able to wait as confidently as that woman. The reactions we get from those around us do not matter one smidgen. We are only meant to wait with full assurance, patience, and joy.
However, this isn't where our part stops. We are even charged to eagerly and urgently invite others to join our table. It is our responsibility to tell them that our friend is worth more than their patronization, and that he renders their sympathy unnecessary.
We'll see many join the ranks of the empty tables, while others will lose faith and leave. But a steady course must be maintained. Our good friend will surely join us soon.
And in the end, a gentle kiss will be found.
Last night I was given the privilege of eating some Lou Malnati's pizza. It was delicious. (Maybe better than Giordano's.)
However, during the early part of the dinner, I noticed a woman sitting by herself at a table near ours. I was burdened by that scene, because I wanted so badly for her not to be stood up by someone. So, for a good 20 minutes I made sure to monitor her situation in the corner of my left eye, and for a good 20 minutes my fear that she would be stood up grew bigger and bigger. With it, my pity towards her ballooned.
To my relief and, strangely, happiness, her party eventually came (late, it seemed). Two men and a woman, with one man walking over to her side of the table and kissing her gently on the lips.Disaster avoided, burden lifted, pity put to shame.
I was glad.
The one thing I noticed was her unwavering self-assurance. The woman never looked worried as she sat alone at the table. She seemed sure that her table would soon be filled, no matter how delayed.
It seems to me that this is an accurate depiction of what Christians appear to be to some non-believers. We spend so all our lives waiting for our friend to show up and rescue us from our loneliness. We (should) wait with confidence because of the pattern of faithfulness that he has already shown, and has promised to show.
"Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God." - 2 Corinthians 3:4 (ESV)
"For we have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original confidence firm to the end." - Hebrews 3:14 (ESV)
Non-believers doubt that he will ever join us (or that he's even real), and some point and mock, while others just shake their heads and pity us.
I hope that we will be able to wait as confidently as that woman. The reactions we get from those around us do not matter one smidgen. We are only meant to wait with full assurance, patience, and joy.
However, this isn't where our part stops. We are even charged to eagerly and urgently invite others to join our table. It is our responsibility to tell them that our friend is worth more than their patronization, and that he renders their sympathy unnecessary.
We'll see many join the ranks of the empty tables, while others will lose faith and leave. But a steady course must be maintained. Our good friend will surely join us soon.
And in the end, a gentle kiss will be found.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
I Quit
For approximately the past 21 months I've had the pleasure of working at [an unnamed search engine]. I thoroughly enjoyed my role there, so it was very difficult to leave my position this past Friday.
Why did I leave?
Because, for some delightfully frustrating reason, I have an itch to pursue a career in journalism that I want to scratch. So, I will be attending [an unnamed graduate school] this coming fall to obtain a Master of Science in Journalism.
I don't particularly enjoy the spot I'm in. To be very honest, I don't think I'll ever find another job that is as accommodating, relaxing, and peaceful as the one I just left. The main thing I'm trying to aim for is a more fulfilling career path through the lens of journalism.
So, Friday was a sad day. I have never had to leave a job that I loved, so it was a strange feeling. It's akin to the feeling of meeting a pretty girl during the summer, only to find that sometime in late August you both have to part ways and head back to your separate realities at your respective schools and homes. I hope that's an allusion that some of you will get.
Leaving my job does make it easier to look forward to graduate school. Once one bridge is burned, the other one begins to look mighty appealing. But for the next few weeks I'll be in a strange limbo, and I'm not looking forward to it.
Alas, my stay at [unnamed search engine] is over, and on Monday I will not be heading into the office to sit at my desk. I am no longer employed there; I am not their employee anymore, and they are no longer my employer. Our relationship is now kaput.
But what if, knowingly or unknowingly, I actually head back to the office on Monday morning and sit at my desk? My co-workers would probably look at me funny and ask me why the heck I was there, and I'd feel and look like a certified schmuck.
Why did I leave?
Because, for some delightfully frustrating reason, I have an itch to pursue a career in journalism that I want to scratch. So, I will be attending [an unnamed graduate school] this coming fall to obtain a Master of Science in Journalism.
I don't particularly enjoy the spot I'm in. To be very honest, I don't think I'll ever find another job that is as accommodating, relaxing, and peaceful as the one I just left. The main thing I'm trying to aim for is a more fulfilling career path through the lens of journalism.
So, Friday was a sad day. I have never had to leave a job that I loved, so it was a strange feeling. It's akin to the feeling of meeting a pretty girl during the summer, only to find that sometime in late August you both have to part ways and head back to your separate realities at your respective schools and homes. I hope that's an allusion that some of you will get.
Leaving my job does make it easier to look forward to graduate school. Once one bridge is burned, the other one begins to look mighty appealing. But for the next few weeks I'll be in a strange limbo, and I'm not looking forward to it.
Alas, my stay at [unnamed search engine] is over, and on Monday I will not be heading into the office to sit at my desk. I am no longer employed there; I am not their employee anymore, and they are no longer my employer. Our relationship is now kaput.
But what if, knowingly or unknowingly, I actually head back to the office on Monday morning and sit at my desk? My co-workers would probably look at me funny and ask me why the heck I was there, and I'd feel and look like a certified schmuck.
What shall we say then? Are we to continue in sin that grace may abound? By no means! How can we who died to sin still live in it?
Romans 6:1, 2 (ESV)
I've essentially died to my job. My laptop and corporate key card have been returned, my last paycheck was handed to me, and soon my e-mail account, directory listing, and insurance benefits will be done away with. I'm dead to [unnamed search engine].
If I did return on Monday, or any day after that, I'd be a fool.
Yet I find myself continually returning to the offices of sin, though I've already given them a firm notice of my permanent departure. I told them that I quit, for good, that I am moving on to greener, higher ground, but I embarrass myself over and over again by walking back to that same damned desk. Sometimes I know what I'm doing, while other times I find myself sleepwalking there, as if I'm still profoundly connected with my former station.
So, as I wait upon that next phase to come, it appears that I will be repeating the words "I quit" over and over again until that beautiful day when they will finally and truly be fulfilled.
(The photo above has nothing to do with this post. It was just a scene I saw in my backyard today that gave me great joy. I wanted to share it with you.)
Romans 6:1, 2 (ESV)
I've essentially died to my job. My laptop and corporate key card have been returned, my last paycheck was handed to me, and soon my e-mail account, directory listing, and insurance benefits will be done away with. I'm dead to [unnamed search engine].
If I did return on Monday, or any day after that, I'd be a fool.
Yet I find myself continually returning to the offices of sin, though I've already given them a firm notice of my permanent departure. I told them that I quit, for good, that I am moving on to greener, higher ground, but I embarrass myself over and over again by walking back to that same damned desk. Sometimes I know what I'm doing, while other times I find myself sleepwalking there, as if I'm still profoundly connected with my former station.
So, as I wait upon that next phase to come, it appears that I will be repeating the words "I quit" over and over again until that beautiful day when they will finally and truly be fulfilled.
(The photo above has nothing to do with this post. It was just a scene I saw in my backyard today that gave me great joy. I wanted to share it with you.)
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