Hurt 320: I will show you fear in a handful of dust

Interning full time leaves me little time for blogging this summer, so I intend to share an assortment of photos from the past year over the coming weeks. I do not own a camera– I use my dad’s film Canon SLR that might be a decade older than myself. Film is expensive so I rarely pull out my camera, but this means that flipping through prints is always a surprise…

I begin with a welcome, to my residence of four semesters. As the first student to walk through the threshold of Hurt 320 and call it “home,” I felt it important to give the apartment and proper christening. When I first moved into the apartment in August 2008, the paint remained too wet for Command Strips and a layer of tan dust from the construction coated the surfaces in my bathroom. Although this sign did not hang on the door until spring 2010 (and it only stayed up one night for Scholars’ Weekend), it is indicative of my roller coaster outlook on life at Union throughout those two years.

More to come. Welcome.

Stop Rape Now

The UN initiated a new action, Stop Rape Now, to seek an end to rape in conflict areas across the globe. Check out the Web site– http://stoprapenow.org/.

Construction-paper empathy

Valentine’s Day has long since passed for the year, but this story on the Baptist Global Response blog reminded me of a small kindness from two years ago.

My memories of February 2008 contain nothing of red roses and candy, but of tornadoes and a brief stint with homelessness. Sometime after classes resumed in late February, Union received a package from a group of elementary school students. They had made us Valentines, which remained on posted on the wall across from the library for the rest of the semester.

Most of the children wrote something along the lines of, “I’m sorry a tornado hit your school,” but a few were more creative: “One time I wiped out on my skateboard and smashed my face. It hurt, and I bet that’s what you feel like.”

We are busy people, but let’s not forget the impact of a simple note of encouragement or empathy.

Joy of writing lies in learning

A recent assignment for Union’s Office of University Communications involved telling the story of a trip a small group of biology students and professors took to Georgia and Florida in January.

The topic sounds dull enough, but the assignment turned into one of those treasured times when I am able to become more immersed in a story than my word count allows me to share. In talking with two biology professors and a conservation biology student, I learned several things, including how the mixing of salt water and fresh water occurs in coastal areas, that the red cockaded woodpecker (an endangered species) nests in living trees rather than dead ones, and that the scars visible on many manatees’ backs are due to boats driving too fast through their habitats. The slow-moving manatees are often unable to move out of the way, so boats end up driving over their backs.

I appreciate opportunities to write, but the true joy of the job comes when I get to learn– not from books, but from people who care deeply about oft-neglected subjects such as ornithology and marine biology. Check out the published story: Union students study birds, marine life on 10-day trip. I hope you learn something.

Each letter holds its purpose

“Why do you write?”

My professor asked us this simple question in class yesterday, and gave us a few moments to scribble an answer. I divided my paper into two categories of writing, as I often do in my mind: personal and practical.

Under the personal list, I wrote understand, new perception and appreciate truth/diverse views. My practical list included explain/raise awareness, promote and support other work. I began to draw lines, to see the parallels between my two lists. I came to a single conclusion: I write to improve quality of life and work.

“I write to move people,” our professor told us. “The best stories teach, illuminate and inspire.”

Through writing, I believe people can more appreciate being alive. I also believe that writing can help us work more efficiently, thereby fostering innovation and contributing to making it better to be alive.

Calling myself a writer feels less trite, now.

Our community needs more girl talk

As an editor, I am increasingly becoming aware of sexist language. I considered it a small victory against subconscious, or even “harmless” cultural sexism-s, the other night when I vetoed the use of the phrase “MRS degree” in our university newspaper. (The editors meant it purely in jest, but I know several intelligent, engaged female undergraduate students who prize their education, and should not be so insulted.)

Oftentimes, I feel that such small victories slip by unappreciated or even scorned by those around me. Although women outnumber men on this campus, I do not feel that we fully understand or insist upon equality. A recent article published by author Jessica Valenti on the Washington Post Web site further deepened my feeling that gender equality is a neglected issue in my community. (If the link didn’t tempt you, read it anyway. It’s a great article.)

I am not sure how to end the silence and initiate discussion on the issue, but I think it is important. Even among people with varying views on gender roles and their relation to religion, we can and should talk about it. I possess the perfect opportunity to do so as a journalism student and editor of a newspaper, and I plan to make it my next project. Any ideas or suggestions, pass them my way.

To kill a tweeting-bird

I like to joke that if I could eradicate two things from existence, I would choose Nickleback and Twitter. And since no one is compelling me to listen to Nickleback for the sake of my career, Twitter would definitely be the first to go.

I am currently at Southeastern Louisiana University in Hammond, La. for the annual Southeastern Journalism Conference (SEJC). The message is similar to what it was a year ago: Twitter is your friend.

Let’s be clear: Twitter is not my friend. It is my nemesis. I do have a Twitter account (katieshatzer if you are interested in joining the ranks of my followers), but I rarely tweet. Perhaps my hesitation is because I hate sending 140 pithy characters out into cyberspace, free of context or explanation.

Speaker Mark Briggs made a good (and hopeful) point, though, when he explained that Twitter might one day go away. However, the concept of microblogging will not. Microblogging is a skill I clearly need to work on acquiring.

I like my privacy. I like my solitude– I do not like being connected to everyone, all the time. And I like the kid who couldn’t help me write a tweet a few minutes ago, because he doesn’t like the bird either.

Whitney and I are enjoying some quality time together waiting at SLU...

I decided what I’d like to do… for now

After once again failing to describe my career goals today, I came upon an important realization: Of course I don’t know what I want to do. No one is asking me that. What do I think I want to do? A well-thought yet non-committal idea will do for now, so here is what I want to do today:

I want to be responsible for written communications, both internal and external, for a small business or non-for-profit organization in the Cedar Rapids area. I would also contribute to the development, execution and evaluation of the business or organization’s marketing strategies and goals.

Will this be my job description in a year? (I can dream!) In any case, it’s a long way from my thoughts two years ago, and I’m sure my “ideal job” will evolve further before I graduate. It’s just nice to have a place to start.

New year, new decade, new focus

Due to my blogging negligence, you will forever wonder what the last six months of 2009 held for me. I can tell you it was a good year, and leave it at that.

I have never been one for New Year’s resolutions, although I do appreciate the holiday’s encouragement to pause and reflect: What do I want in this new year?

In 2010, I want to focus my energy more on the people and activities that are most meaningful to me. After nearly one year of blogging, it is not an activity that is included in that list, and I ask the question, should I continue?

To answer, I return to the idea of focus. Blogging might become a more rewarding use of my time if I felt I wrote with a certain direction or purpose. For this reason, I initiate a shift. I still reserve the right to share good things from time to time, but expect to read posts that serve as companions to my greater writing projects. I plan to use my blog as a sounding board for story ideas, allowing you, dear reader, insight into my work and the opportunity to share your ideas with me. Because your input is of greater value to me than my musings swimming around in cyberspace.

With that, I wish you a happy new year, and doses of newfound focus of your own.

A gray kitten and a regular coffee

A man walked up to the counter holding something close to his puffy winter coat. “I found this outside your building,” he said, as he revealed a tiny kitten. The animal’s gray fur, matted against its thin body, failed to keep it warm on a day that temperatures dropped below zero.

We quickly decided to take the kitten out of the coffee shop and to The Shop Next Door. I slipped on my coat and the man hurriedly gave me the kitten, then rushed out the door to catch the bus. The kitten meowed and latched its claws into the lapels of my coats.

I attempted to shield the kitten from the cold as I walked the short distance to The Shop Next Door, where I handed him off to my manager. We tried to come up with a solution for the helpless kitten, but the local humane society was closed today and we knew the harsh cold would threaten the animal’s life. For the afternoon, the kitten curled up in a milk crate, warmed by a blanket and newspaper.

This little kitten was the third “rescued” from outside our coffee shop in the past six months or so. One kitten this summer found a home. I do not know the fate of today’s kitten.

I am not about to begin a crusade to save the world’s lost kittens. However, like most problems our society faces, it seems a little more feasible to make a difference– and much more important to try– when one is faced with just one kitten, or just one homeless person in need of a hot meal, or just one child in need of an escape from an abusive home. The list goes on, but it is not endless, and this Christmas I am reminded to recognize and do my part to make my corner of the world better.

Earlier this same afternoon, a woman paid for her coffee and handed me an extra $2. “Use this for the next person who orders just a regular coffee,” she told me. “Someone did it for me once, and it was just so nice.” My shift ended before the next coffee order, but her gift made the small world on the corner of 1st Ave. and 13th St. a little better.

Merry Christmas!