Category: journalism

Stuff having to do with the world of journalism.

Why we chose to do it this way.

americanapolloLeave a comment

Much like the concept of God, Capitalism is a system that cannot be defined by a word. It is not a rock solid object, that can be easily seen or understood. Robert Reich, the former Secretary of Labor for the United States, recently said that the 26 richest people in the world have the same wealth in dollars as the 3.8 billion poorest. 26, the size of the OVS senior class, vs 3,800,000,000, the equivalent population of North America, South America, Europe, Australia, and Africa combined. So basically everything beside Antarctica. Yet this wealth distribution is not specific to the global level. The United States, prided for being a land of economic opportunity and no class boundaries (foregoing the dynamic of ethnicity). But as the year strays farther from the millennium, the more the middle class dissipates, leaving many in a sink or sink situation. Although the political statement-turned-meme “Okay, Boomer” is now annoying and a reflection of the younger side of Gen-Z, the economic proportions of millennials vs baby-boomers are astoundingly different. A common talking point of the difference between these two generations is real estate. At the same age, Boomers owned 32% of real estate in the United States, wheres Millennials owned 4%. (Business Insider). This isn’t just because old people have poor taste. Decent houses for low income and even entry level houses for average salaries are sparse. That, coupled with a stagnant minimum wage and record student debts (paired with record college educations per capita), make it more difficult than ever for Americans aged 20-40 to afford a house. Renting, although disproportionate to inflation, is still a cheaper option.

There are a million other examples of how I could list the caustic nature of the capitalism that we maintain as a nation, but as someone who must soon face these realities, I will stick with the most relevant. I don’t know why we chose to do it this way, but we have the ability to change it yet again. It’s just up to how much we are willing to sacrifice.

Image result for capitalism
Credit: Foundation for Economic Education

Chinese New Year

hwan6031Leave a comment

It’s that time of the year, Asian new year. Asian new year is one of the biggest holidays in countries like Korea and China. We get to gather around with families that we weren’t able to meet for a while and celebrate each other by eating different kinds of food and talking about how their life has been. This is time of the year, where I want to go back to my own country. I always think about how fun it would be to spend time with family and relatives and laugh about stupid stuff, while I’m in my room laying on my bed. I wish one day I could celebrate Asian new year with my family and relatives.

Black Mamba

hwan6031Leave a comment

While I was enjoying the beautiful weather of Ojai this morning, I got a text from my friends that made my heart drop, “Kobe Bryant was found dead with his daughter after the helicopter crash.” When I got this text, I thought it was some kind of joke or rumor that some people were spreading, and after checking all types of social media, I realized that it was true. I just couldn’t admit that my all-time favorite basketball player would leave us like this. There have been a few tragic events like this, but Kobe’s death just hit different to me. Kobe Bryant was the first player that I knew from basketball, and while me and my friends were playing basketball, I remember shouting “Kobe!” when I took the shot. He was a great mentor for a lot of people including me in and out of the court. Kobe Bryant might be gone in real life, but he will always have a special place in our hearts.

Rest in peace, Kobe Bryant.

PC: Basketball network

Objectified

mypetlobster1Leave a comment
ob·ject
noun
/ˈäbjekt/
1.
a material thing that can be seen and touched.

                                    …

Dear strong, capable, powerful, being,

you are not an object.

Nowadays, many people are objectified. Not just for sex, but for money, popularity, and much more.

Dear strong, capable, powerful, being,

your purpose is not just to fulfill the wants of others.

You are beautiful. You are intelligent. You are unique.

And you are here on this earth to do much more than to satisfy someone’s wants or desires and then to be put on the shelf until they want you again.

No person is single-use. No person is only good for one thing. No person is an object.

And no person deserves to be treated like one.

Photo credit: artsyrose.com

a scene from a 2000s christmas

djrendezvous3Leave a comment
photo credit: floridamemory.com

The beach houses that my mother would find always seemed so big to my four-year-old perspective. 

With a staircase that I remember to be spiraling and

a brown and cream-colored chess board in the middle of a large living room

which was later to be covered in wrapping paper is what this house seemed like to me at the time. 

My mother was always frantically scurrying around the house to make sure everything was perfect for my grandmother, 

meanwhile, she didn’t mind the imperfections but simply didn’t have the power to say anything. 

The uncles were catching up as the oldest was in Chicago and the youngest was living his life in Australia.

My brother, was playing with his GameBoy, 

eyes locked to the screen. 

My grandfather was looking at the beams and the ceilings to find some reason why the house wasn’t architecturally perfect in his eyes.

And then there was me, either in the corner or on the couch next to my grandmother, where I would play with my Polly Pockets being relatively quiet.

/ / /

I do not remember a lot at the houses except for the people and the feelings surrounding the time.

The presents and all the other material items around me did not matter,  especially because I knew the reality of the grandmother’s illness and how she had limited time here on earth with me. 

I do remember the smell of the house, 

a mixture of palm trees, 

salty ocean mist, and

the sand that has been carried many miles, 

just for me to feel that unforgettable warmth between my toes. 

I also reminisce about her during the holiday season. She wore fuzzy socks. I still have a worn out, baby pink pair of her socks stuffed in the back of my drawers. 

From cuddling on the couch, with the chaos of my family 

to being on the beach, with the rolling waves and the roaring wind, 

her amenity still remains within me. 

My Quirky Self

bartholomulethegreatLeave a comment

There are many things in life that I do to calm myself down and relax. Personally, I think that the ability to relax easily is a gift that some people don’t have, me being one of the less fortunate. I have something called Propreoseptive nervous system disorder, which is a disorder that causes a variety of symptoms. These symptoms can include not realizing your own strength or how close you are to others and the ability to walk in a straight line. All of these symptoms are affected by proprioception which the dictionary defines as “perception or awareness of the position and movement of the body” this can cause you to lean on desks because you feel like you need extra support when sitting because you are unbalanced. Anyway back to the idea of relaxing, I find myself laying on desks breaking pencil lead or getting really close to people without realizing and I find that it makes others uncomfortable, occasionally I will flat tire people because of getting as close as I do. I find it hard to relax because I feel like I’m sitting weird when I’m sitting and this causes me to wiggle about in my seat and always need to be moving. I am also really impulsive and end up saying shit with no context or just not thinking before I speak or move. I can tell that this impulsiveness is irritating to others because of the fact that people tend to try and stay farther away from me rather than close. I may put out that I’m confident and strong-willed but I’m really nervous making every decision and I always have this thought in my mind that people hate me and I make myself think that I don’t know why but in reality it’s all because of my idiocy and how I push myself into conversations all the time. I feel a sense of mauerbauertraurigkeit (describes people who build an emotional wall around them and then, paradoxically, suffer from the resulting loneliness) in my life that I can’t get rid of and it makes me feel cut off when I do have friends and people that want to hang out with me I just struggle being there face to face with them.

Photo Credit: Almany.com

on a persistent Thursday

faithfulomnivoreLeave a comment
image via i.pinimg.com

The morning is the inhale – the first air that is taken in, and held there –

Some days are more deceptive than others
like a warm Thursday afternoon that manages to convince you there is nothing left to do;

It leaves you anticipating the rest.
The first breath that is fully taken in and fully released in a few easy seconds. Knowing everything else may be paused for a while.

But then you remember:
the light is not orange because it is summertime, when the days are so hot they seem to melt into one another,
but rather because it is 4pm on a Thursday afternoon, and you are wearing sunglasses because the days are only shorter now.

And because it is a Thursday and not a Friday,
you can only breathe partially.

And so the evening is the exhale – the same morning air that never really escaped finally does, though it won’t return until the sun comes up again tomorrow –

And we grow used to that feeling. Or at least I do.

Becoming

horseman69Leave a comment

Today is the last day of my childhood,

Tomorrow I will be an adult.

It means I’ll have more freedom, I’ll be able to buy more goods, drive (in China), book a hotel room…

By ascending to that place, it also means leaving some of my old life behind. Things will be renounced.

It’s a different world that I’m about to touch. Letting go is always easy, when you put a title on yourself and pretend to be someone you’re not, you become that someone.

But this time, I am willing to change, and I’m excited for the upcoming changes. I guess that’s what growing up is.

OC

photo credit: pm1.narvii.com

A Story of Glass, a Family, and Murder

mypetlobster1Leave a comment

“Mom,” said a little boy startled. “They’re back again.”

“I know honey,” she replied.

“Mom,” said a little boy startled. “They’re watching us again.”

“I know honey,” she replied.

“I’m scared,” said the little boy. “I don’t want to be here mama”

“Someday baby, someday we’ll get out of here. Your father will come for us.”

And so they waited, and waited, and waited some more. But he never came and he never would.

Years went by. The boy was no longer little, the mother was no longer strong, and both of them were no longer hopeful.

“Mom,” said a no longer little boy, “we can’t wait any longer, we need to get out of here.”

“No,” she said, “it’s too dangerous. Your father will come for us.”

But the no longer little boy watched his mom’s once shiny black hair turn to grey and he knew that he could wait for his father no longer.

That day, while his mother lay quietly in the grass resting her tired eyes, he grabbed a rock and walked to the glass.

Bang.

Children began to scream.

Bang.

Parents grabbed their kin and began to run away.

Bang.

The mother of the no longer little boy ran after her son but it was too late.

Bang.

Three guards rushed toward the scene.

Bang.

The glass finally began to break.

Bang…

A bullet went through the no longer little boy’s chest.

Bang…

A bullet went through the mother’s chest as she ran towards where her son’s body lay.

Two weeks later the glass was fixed, the zookeepers removed all movable rocks, and two new gorillas filled the place of the deceased mother and son.

Photo credit: cincinnatizoo.org

a reflection on my past.

djrendezvous3Leave a comment

I was recently reflecting on a past assignment that was given to me in middle school. My memory of the prompt is vague but it went along the lines of, “write down your most cherished memories from your life.” I wrote about the experiences that I thought I was going to cherish forever. But now, four years later, I have matured and so have my memories.

I remember going into kindergarten and meeting a girl who I thought would stay in my life forever.

I remember my parents fighting over the phone.

I remember day dreaming all the time.

I remember the smell of summer in the valley and my blonde ringlets.

I remember being alone in my room but being utterly content.

I remember growing up faster than my friends,

isolating myself, being insecure.

And years later, I remember my self-realization.

I remember listening to different music, wearing different clothes, and becoming myself.

As I wrote my “memory list” 6 years ago, I have grown into (what I think) is a more emotionally in-tune woman. These memories are not actual moments from my life but rather feelings and emotions. In thirty years from now, I know I will not remember all the details from my favorite concert or my first crush, but I will retain the feelings that come along with those situations.

“I was talking about time. It’s so hard for me to believe in it. Some things go. Pass on. Some things just stay. I used to think it was my re-memory. You know. Some things you forget. Other things you never do. But it’s not. Places, places are still there. If a house burns down, it’s gone, but the place—the picture of it—stays, and not just in my re-memory, but out there, in the world. What I remember is a picture floating around out there outside my head. I mean, even if I don’t think it, even if I die, the picture of what I did, or knew, or saw is still out there. Right in the place where it happened.”

Toni Morrison, Beloved
photo credit: pinterest.com