I’ve been in NYC for almost three months now, and the summer-green leaves are just starting to turn yellow around the edges. The city feels like home now, but I still find myself staring at people and places with wide-eyed wonder. I haven’t been taking the city (or even the school, for that matter) by storm, so I’m trying to figure out what I can do to change that. It’s a Sunday night, but I’ve been in the school for the past eight hours, writing articles and editing videos.
Last week, I turned 27. I didn’t celebrate with a bang; I visited the MoMa and had some birthday cake and Korean chicken. The lack of fanfare (didn’t even get to talk to James, he was off on a flight) made me realize just how much I’ve grown up, maybe in ways I don’t always welcome. Being in the J-School has been nothing but an extremely humbling experience so far, with my years of work experience proving to be more of a liability than an asset in a city full of young, hungry upstarts. Many of the people in school are younger than 25, unsure of themselves, dipping their toes in professional journalism for the first time in their lives. The late Steve Jobs said that the key to success was to stay hungry, and to stay foolish. I’ve been a little too cautious and wary, and that’s something I’ll need to shed.
For some reason, luck hasn’t been on my side lately. I’ve been heading to my beat, looking for stories, with little to show for it so far. Yesterday, a long visit to the Bronx (one that involved going from house to house, talking to locals) got me one precious bit of wisdom that I’m not quite sure what to do with: prostitutes and raccoons are some of the biggest problems in Fordham. Some batch mates have been covering the Occupy Wall Street protests and gaining hundreds of followers in the process; I’ve gained some too, but I’ve also lost a lot for tweeting stuff irrelevant to Philippine followers. I’m caught between two places, and belong to neither.
I feel a little cheated that I’m limited to a certain neighborhood in the Bronx. I know, I know—I can always head out and do my own coverage, even if it weren’t for class. And I’ve tried my best; when Steve Jobs died, I went to the Apple flagship store to take photos and videos. But then I get home and look at the stack of work I still have to do for other classes, and the meager handful of Bronx-related news I’ve covered so far, and die a little every day.
I’ll be the first to admit that I haven’t discovered the kind of journalist that I want to be just yet. When I encounter fellow students in the corridors, I wonder if they’ve got it all figured out. At 21, I thought I knew who I was, and who I wanted to be. At 27, I’m a lot less self-assured, but I’ve also learned to be patient, especially in the last couple of years. Three months is a huge chunk of a 10-month grad school program, but again, it’s also just three months. I know that somewhere in there, I have a lot more to give than what I’ve shown so far, and I’m not going to let that remain buried deep.
Hi Bianca, Gosh I can’t believe you are in NY. And I totally get the quarterlife thing. Though I wish I would say that I am still a twenteen but I just turned 30!!! Ack. I know what you mean by being caught in between, but I find that I still have 1/3 followers from the Phils and 1/3 from indonesia. I guess everyone wants to know how it is to live in another country! I’ll start following you on twitter! I’ve always wanted to live in NY and i’ll do that vicariously through you! =P Good luck on finding your way and rediscovering/reinventing yourself!