the art of accuracy.

Today in lecture, Katherine talked to us about the importance of accuracy and good habits we as journalists can do, to prevent inaccurate reporting. 

According to lecture, the top three causes of errors in reporting are working from memory, making assumptions and using secondhand sources. Whenever these were said, I immediately could relate to them, especially the working from memory one; I've had this temptation multiple times as a journalist. 

Whenever I covered the Jeff Mizanskey story, I had made a few phone calls for pre-interviewing. While on the phone with a source, I had asked if I could record their call. While recording the call, I had taken minimal notes because I was trying to listen intently to ask better questions. I had used my laptop to voice record the eight minute conversation. At the end of it, I thanked my source before hanging up the phone and pressing "stop" on the recording. My laptop proceeded to display the never-ending cursor. I knew I was doomed. Eventually, I had to "force quit" the document that contained the recording, resulting in the entire conversation being lost. 

At first I just sat there, staring at my laptop in panic. Then I was tempted. I remembered few things in my head that my source had said, but nothing was for certain. Before long, I found myself writing down words that I knew were said, but then filling in what I didn't know with my own words. I stared at my "source's quotes" for a bit, before I decided to delete them, recognizing the harm it could do. I ended up using only the little information I had written down before I went into my intense listening. It worked out, and I hadn't worked from memory.

I learned the danger in not only working from memory, but also in relying on a recorder versus my note-taking abilities. It wasn't wrong to record an interview, but I should have been simultaneously taking thorough notes, for instances such as this one. 

The good habits of reporting accurately are all great tips on their own, but also work more effectively when done together. For example, in this instance, I would have benefited greatly if I had followed the tip of listening carefully, asked more questions and had been transcribing my notes when I initially heard them.

the moments before and after freedom.

I woke up at 4:30 a.m. with a stomachache. That stomachache was more than a reflection of the two dinners I had the night before; it was the result of the nervousness I was feeling. I went in and out of sleep for the next two hours and was ready to be picked up at 7 a.m. sharp. 

Me and the photographer, Justin, decided to leave Columbia a full hour before Jeff Mizanskey would walk out of the prison in Jefferson City. We wanted to be there to capture those first moments of Mizanskey walking out as a free man for the first time in 21 years. 

And then life happened. 

We got stuck in 25 minute bumper-to-bumper traffic, pushing our ETA back from 7:40 to 8:05. Think of how much value is in five minutes, especially in those. Google Maps suggested an alternate route that bought us two minutes of time. So yes, we would have gotten there at 8:03, had there not been a train crossing that we had to stop and wait for. HA. 

We ended up pulling into the Correctional Center at 8:04. By the time I joined the crowd with my notebook, Mizanskey was already giving his statement. Justin also joined the crowd, but with all of his equipment, ready to capture the emotion of relief and freedom. 

We missed it. The initial moment of a man being reunited with his family and friends, had passed. 

As important people took turns behind the podium, a man touched me on the shoulder, asking if I was with a man named Ryan. I didn't recognize the face of this man, nor was I with a Ryan, so I quickly said no. Come to find out, that man was Chris Mizanskey, Jeff's son. Because I had not done my homework, I let an important person tap me on the shoulder and walk away. 

The entire thing happened very fast. I listened intently, gathered a few quotes and then Justin and I were on our way back to Columbia by 8:40 a.m. Don't worry, no traffic this time. 

The rest of my day was spent in the newsroom, working with an editor that taught me many lessons in the short time we worked together. 

Multiple times, she would put a pause on our intense concentration, more for my benefit than her own. 

"You done this before?"

"No."

"You can do it," she said. 

We worked together for five hours, merging two stories together to form one. It was a process of editing, playing puzzle and fact-checking with a few moments of relief, thanks to Elizabeth. 

It felt incredible to sit there and have someone sort through your work, helping your voice and emotion to be heard and felt. Not only to push you and challenge your reason for every sentence written, but at the end of to look at you and tell you what you did well. 

There isn't a right way to teach someone something, but there is a wrong way. The same goes for a lot of things. There isn't a right way to tell a story, but there is a wrong way. That day my editor was right in her way of teaching me something I will never forget, and I was right in telling a story in how I felt it should be told. 

I walked out of the newsroom, feeling accomplished and free. I wandered how Jeff Mizanskey felt when he walked out of prison from being in there 21 years, in comparison to me walking out of the newsroom from being there for five hours. I couldn't wrap my head around it and I wasn't meant to.

How boring life would be if you fully understood someone's story, recognized every face of someone that tapped you on the shoulder, or knew every time that a train crossed. 

There's no freedom in that. 

contributing to the world of journalism.

After sleep deprivation, a road trip to Jeff City to attend a press conference, being stuck in traffic resulting in being late to the press conference, lots of coffee, interviewing, editing and hours in the newsroom, I contributed to my first story as a reporter. I'm doing it, guys. I'm surviving the Columbia Missourian.

I will blog later this week with more of my experience on covering this story!

Here's the story: http://www.columbiamissourian.com/news/state_news/after-years-man-in-marijuana-case-released-from-prison/article_9a92ee36-50c1-11e5-a3e2-1b08593df233.html

the cycle of feeling.

There's a little over a month until school starts again. Already. Little. Over. A. Month. I really don't understand how the concept of time works; you want more of it when it's withering, and you want it to slow down when it's slipping past. Though most of my summer has consisted of the routine of going to work, doing homework and laying in my bed, some things have happened here and there. I've felt a lot of things. And for those who are interested, I figured I'd share my summer with you in the form of emotions.

Boredom: We'll start here. I have spent more time lying horizontally in these past few months than I think I have in my entire life. When I am on my feet (okay, it's not as rare as I make it seem), I most likely have a green apron tied around my body and a Sharpie in my pocket. Working at a Starbucks on a college campus during the summer hasn't been as dreadful as I imagined it would. It's nice taking bathroom breaks and there not being a line, or whipping out the French press to try the newest dark roast. However, I have done more crossword puzzles than ever before. I still suck at them but hey, I'm getting paid for it. And free coffee, I mean, come on.

Pain: I love irony. I don't always love it when it comes in the form of a fractured foot. At the beginning of the summer, I wanted to let off some steam so I attended a free self-defense class. We did a lot of kicking and I went hard. I am also a very fragile human being so original injury happened by kicking a bag. In the following days I had a lot of pain in my right foot; it hurt to walk and it hurt to stand. Two X-rays and a $50 copay later, I would eventually get the result that my foot was fractured. I hurt myself in a self-defense class. The irony.

One upon a time, I tried to draw. The end.

Adrenaline: I mentioned original injury. So, as a Mizzou student, I am liable to do, or at least attempt, the "Seven Traditions of MU". Some of these include streaking and scaling buildings that could get you expelled (#OneMizzou). One of them, however, just requires guts; kissing the 50-yard line of the football stadium. Some people would say that doing so at the end of a football game counts, but where's the fun in that? Me and some of my friends slipped between the locked gate and kissed that line (sorry mom). Oh the adrenaline! Fast forward to later in the evening after sprinting on my already hurt foot and doing another one of the traditions: riding the tiger. Riding the tiger looks easy but you've gotta have a little air. I jumped on my already hurt foot and that's when it happened. I felt the break and everything. Now the truth is coming out to how I actually injured my foot... (sorry again mom).  

Fear: I mentioned this previously, but there was a timeframe of two days when I thought I lost my wallet. Do you know how terrifying it is to think that someone has access to your bank accounts? Actually, that part wasn't too terrifying; I probably had $30 in my checking account max. Nonetheless, it was still scary.

Okay, I'm terrified of spiders. If you ever want me to cry or get me to stop talking to you for the rest of your life, throw a spider on me. Last week, my roommates were out getting a movie and I was cleaning up the kitchen, and there one was. A little bigger than a quarter. An hour and a half later, it drowned in our kitchen sink. RIP.

When I went on my road trip with Heather, we drove through the night on our way there. During one of my shifts of driving, I drifted off to sleep at the wheel. I opened my eyes to the terrifying sight of me heading towards bushes, or whatever those weird things are on the side of the road in New Mexico. There were no cars around, thank goodness (also, again....sorry mom).

Awestruck: Heather and I traveled to New Mexico and Colorado to visit some of our closest friends. It was incredible. One of my favorite moments of the entire trip was when I went with Heather and Iesha and drove up Trail Ridge for sunset. Trail Ridge is a road up a mountain that takes around 40 minutes to reach the top. The view is wonderful and breathtaking and makes you feel small in the best way. It was a little cloudy that evening and I lightheartedly asked God if He could give us a beautiful sunset at our arrival. He delivered.

Happiness: You know those moments that have the power to shut everyone up because of its beauty. This was something I observed on the 4th of July. Noise, talking, screaming, playing and then boom. Silence, admiration and appreciation for fire in the sky.

Anger: You ever come across someone that is in such a bad mood, they have the potential to ruin your week. Or vice versa. That has happened a lot. You know, I'm just going to leave that one there.

Excitement: Well, I turn 20 next week. One of my best friends in the entire world will be here to visit me here in Columbia this weekend. My online classes are almost finished. The prequel to my favorite book, To Kill A Mockingbird was just released and I can't wait to read it.

Of course there have been moments of sadness, bursts of joy and times of love; the more intimate things in life. They have all been there. Even if the emotions you're feeling aren't always stable, the presence of them always will be. It's a beautiful thing to feel. It reminds you how truly alive you are. We are.

if you feel too much.

This is not solely a sliver of hope but a call for help. Tonight, as I am alone in my bed, my thoughts are closing in on me and I am feeling defeat. Not defeat now, but defeat coming. It is a scary feeling to anticipate such a thing.

I have observed and taken note of many evil things in life. Recently, death, depression, pain, and sadness are themes that are controlling the life of the ones I deeply love and care about. I tossed and I turned and sobbed for help. Help for myself. Help for my dear friends. I am feeling it all.

Again, this is not a granted assurance that everything is okay. But rather, comfort in knowing it's okay I'm feeling this all.

If you feel too much, I have something to say.
I too am wrestling such fear day by day.
If you feel too much, do not run away.
Go towards Him in preparation to pray.
If you feel too much, you have nothing to fear.
Close your eyes and open your ears.
If you feel too much, listen instead.
"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid," He said.
If you feel too much, you are not alone.
Join with others in knowing you aren't your own.
If you feel too much, resist temptation of looking ahead.
Today carries enough worries of its own He said.
If you feel too much, let it not be thoughts of sin.
Rest your head and feel love; evil does not win.

I'm here seeing the hard. I'm here until I see the better.

watch your step.

Hello, yes, I'm still here.

I think the last time I have been blogger present was Christmas break. That makes me incredibly sad because what have I been doing with my life these past 6 months? Well, let me catch you up.

Aside from classes and working, my spring semester was filled with surprises nonetheless. Yes, there were the sappy, obvious life lessons that taught me more about friendship, discipline and myself. I grew in friendships with some, where I took note of the progress that needed to be made in others. I opened at my job that required a lot of early mornings and earlier bedtimes, which taught me discipline. I took mini adventures like seeing my favorite band, Needtobreathe, in concert or getting my nose pierced for my own fulfillment. But sometimes, it's the small things in life that you pass over without blinking that have the potential for the biggest impact.

One Saturday morning in the spring semester, I was walking out of my apartment and down the stairwell, when I noticed a circle of vomit. I know, bear with me. I saw it and was disgusted, and left it, hoping it would be cleaned up by the time I was home later that evening. It wasn't. We live on the third, and highest, floor.  We were almost certain that it was our neighbors down the stairs that created this catastrophe mid party. This meant two things: 1. It could have been a stranger that attended the party, wandered up some stairs, puked and left. 2. Us people on the third floor were the only ones that were going to see it every time we came up and down. Like any other reasonable person, we had no desire to touch or clean up vomit that wasn't ours. EW. Please do not judge us when I say that the vomit was left there, untouched, for almost two weeks. Two. Weeks. It grossed us out for sure, and we so badly wanted it gone, but we didn't want to put in that effort to clean it up. It actually got to the point where out of habit we would made an extra wide turn coming up the steps, just shy of the vomit.

This story does have a happy ending, I promise. Finallllly, we used our college brains and emailed our landlords about this unfortunate event that had occurred and the next day? The carpet was spotless. HAHA not really, I live in a building that actually reads, "Historic Property". But it was cleaned up!

My brother couldn't comprehend how we possibly lived with looking at it that long and not choosing to do something about it two weeks later. I wish I could answer that question myself.

This summer I decided to stay in Columbia. I'm working and taking online classes. Whenever I made this decision awhile back, it seemed more exciting than it is now. Don't get me wrong, I've already made some great Columbia summer memories with some cool people, but man, it's hard not to compare. It's hard to think at this time last year I was with so many incredible people, living out such an extravagent summer. It's hard to know some of your best friends are either back in Colorado, moving home to support raise for staff, traveling to Honduras, in New Mexico for an internship or back at home. When you so badly want them to be here with you. Or you there with them.

Like I said, CoMo summer has already been eventful. Me and the few of my best friends that are here too have kept busy. We've traveled to witness a beautiful wedding ceremony. We've had a picnic at the top of a parking garage at night. We've captured a live bat that was flying around our apartment. We've discovered new, beautiful parts of Columbia through our wandering drives. It hasn't all been a breeze, though.

On Tuesday of this week, I went to go get snowcones with some friends. While we were outside, enjoying our snowcones by the cars, I had set my wallet on the hood of my friend's car. That was the last time I remembered seeing it. Fast-forward to the next day when I go into full panic at the realization of not having a clue where my wallet is. Checked both cars. Not there. Checked the snowcone place. Not there. Called the Columbia Police Department. Not there. I had accepted it was gone and took the next steps. I had the most interesting day going to the bank trying to get a temporary debit card, and then them telling me I needed a photo ID which I did not have. And then going to the DMV office and waiting to get a new license where I then realized I didn't have any money to pay for it. HA. During this entire (PAIN IN THE BUTT) process, I so badly wanted my wallet to show up. I wanted to know where it was. I wanted it to be there right then and never disappear again.

Man, isn't it funny how we want some things to vanish so desparately, but then other things we just want them there with us? That vomit was disgusting and needed to be gone. But it stayed. My wallet needed to be there but it was gone. What then? I feel as if that's what this summer is about for me. The things I want are distant but that doesn't mean my own personal growth should be halted. I can still take advantage of this refreshing summer to learn, read, travel, adventure and grow in many ways (even if it's a pain in the butt process). And of course, it's good to come face to face with the messy stuff and to have people alongside you. Sometimes what you need to satisfy your life will take work. Or sometimes, it's your roommate lifting up the couch cushion to find your wallet underneath. And
then you feel like an idiot. Live and learn. Live and learn. That's what this summer is dedicated to.

the drive home.

Humans tend to hold grudges. We also, on the other hand of it, beg for forgiveness. We forget we were once in that position when we’d literally do anything to undo our mistake. The truth is, the problem with humans is that we aren’t straightforward enough, or sometimes, we’re too straightforward. When it boils down to it, almost everyone is either afraid, selfish, or my personal favorite, insecure. We stay mad at a person until their time is well due because we want them to come begging back to us, reminding you of all the great qualities we have, which falls under their category of why they can’t live without you. Or maybe, we think of all the trouble that goes into trusting someone and are too cowardly to open us up to the idea of happiness. We search and spend our whole lives investing in the meaning of true happiness. When it comes close, we dismiss it, begging for the forgiveness from the creator of our unhappiness. If you’re not straightforward enough, it will leave you feeling empty, dissatisfied, or even fake. Now if you’re too blunt, you can come off as rude, or selfish; no one likes to feel misunderstood. So, what’s the answer? Do you speak your mind when you know it will do more harm? Or do you keep quiet, giving satisfaction to the ones who think they are superior to you?

 I caught myself thinking about dogs. For example, the lonely Labrador ignores the violent Pit-bull, secretly an inner fighter. It doesn’t care if it’s being taunted. Why? Well, he’s tired. He could proof himself if he wanted to, but there’s really no point. They won’t ever meet again. And if they do? The Labrador could prove himself then. Time will tell all. Or, picture two dogs in a battle. One bites his competitor’s ear, while the other dives for the right front paw. After the combat they lay next to each other, simply too tired to continue. They both realize their state, mutually aware of their weariness as a sign to move on.

Tonight, on my drive home from work, I passed a dog trotting on the side of the road. I didn’t hesitate because I was tired, and cranky and whine, whine, whine. After I passed him, I immediately started thinking how the dog would affect me.  And so, being selfish, I realized I didn’t want to have the label of a dog killer. By now, the dog was almost to the highway. Almost to my subdivision entrance, I turned my car around on a mission. By the time I arrived to the end of the street that meets the highway, the dog was already making his way toward the moon on the busy intersection. I found myself with my window down, crying and begging for the “puppy” to return back to me. The dog could have stopped and forgiven my previous selfish behavior, but then that would be giving glory to my new area of selfishness. He didn’t care, but more importantly, he was free. If it were me, even though I had somewhere to go, I would of averted my attention to the pitiful cries of someone who was to blame for my current inconvenience. I guess that’s the difference between me and him, for as he approached his death, he never turned around. Happy was how he died.