Summer!

Summer's fast approaching and the assignments are easing off. Our edition of Scribe Magazine is coming together so nicely! I really can't wait to have the final copy in my hands.
I ended up interviewing:

• Micaela Jordan (beauty guru)
• YouTube behind-the-scenes professionals
• Stacey Brennan (beauty guru)
• The creators of the Violent Comedy Show 
• Hilly and Hannah Hindi of the Hillywood Show

And... wait for it... Harley Morenstein of Epic Meal Time! No big deal.. Just a channel with over 2-million subscribers. 

I had high hopes for the story, but became frustrated when I wasn't getting any replies. With suggestions for some helpful peers, I emailed more people than I'd care to count. The persistence and assistance paid off and I'm really happy with the result. 

Not only am I glad my story turned out well, but my classmates have also created some awesome portfolio pieces. 

The mag should be out next fall/winter. 

Next time, we eat your publication. (EMT reference)

All work and no play

Ahhhh. So busy with school.
I've been filming, recording, writing and editing my behind off. So much to do with so little time.
I've been writing for a few companies lately. One is unpaid, but I get to do cool things (like go to the ballet!). The other was supposed to be paid, but the company seems to be ignoring me now that I've written some blogs for them. I'm hoping this is a misunderstanding, but I'm not happy about possibly having my work stolen. They didn't even give me a byline when that was part of the deal!
The unpaid position has been great. I love seeing my name up on a website. Here are the stories I've done so far:
Boys Who Say No review
Sleeping Beauty - ballet review

I'm going for an interview this Friday. It's for an unpaid summer internship with Salon Magazine. Unpaid internships are always a bit disappointing (tons of work with an empty bank account), but it would be great to get a behind-the-scenes glance at the world of magazine writing! The most satisfying part of journalism is seeing that byline (and getting free stuff, but we'll pretend it's just the byline).

Creative writing

Though many of my classmates scoff at our magazine teacher's weekly writing assignments, I secretly can't wait to write them. In a journalism program, creative writing is pretty rare. We're taught to stick to facts and get all of our information from reliable sources. These writing assignments are all about using our own voices and storytelling abilities. They're still true stories, but they aren't exact. I love them!



The most important place I've ever been
     In the summer of 1998, the sun shone over Winnipeg’s farmlands. A strawberry field lay flat, sprinkled with pickers of all ages. A fenced area worked as a makeshift petting zoo – a distraction for small children. As avid animal lovers, my sister and I plucked a few berries before rushing toward the livestock. Though the small goats were amusing, my main focus was the tiny kittens. Only a few weeks old, the felines would purr, cradled like babies in the arms of human kids. Old enough to read, I became excited over the “free kittens” sign. A little grey kitten with white patches on his chest and stomach caught my eye. He was the quietest and cuddliest of them all, but I couldn’t find him when my father surprisingly agreed to my request. While finally settling for a black and white kitten, soon to be named Oreo, I spotted the grey kitten and made the switch. Though I didn’t know it at the time, my beloved Smokey was sick. He would have died without the medical care my family provided him after giving him a home. Instead of being a forgettable loss to the farm, he spent years growing up with me. That was the first time I saved Smokey’s life. I’m glad I visited that Winnipeg strawberry farm because it was the most important place I’ve ever been in my life. 




Love Letter
Dear Anthony,
I was around seven when my parents and your mom brought us to Discovery Zone. I remember the blue slushee and the miniature zipline, the pit of sponge pieces and the tubes echoing the yells of small children. I remember the Men in Black laser game room we were too young to enter. We couldn’t wait to grow up. Though you didn’t know it, the day I met you was the day I developed my first crush.
My parents had to force me to put on my boots and get into the van to go home. I didn’t want to leave. I made such a fuss that I ended up vomiting bright blue slushee all over my stark white boots, staining 
them for good.

I can’t really remember what you looked like, but I remember how I felt. The indoor playground always made me happy, but I felt even more excitement at the sight of you. I followed you around like a puppy. I went through the same tubes and ran down the same halls. I begged for the same blue-raspberry slushee. I pictured us getting married and spending our lives together. It may have been a little dramatic and presumptuous for a second grader, but I did have quite the imagination.
Little did I know the first day we met would also be the last. Your mom called my mom the night it happened. I was on my way to Girl Guides. I had to play games and pretend nothing was wrong, but that wasn’t hard; I didn’t really understand it.
I saw your face on the cover of all of the papers the next day. “Winnipeg boy falls through ice, dies.”
When I was finally old enough to realize what had happened, it was too late. You left before we could even test the waters.

Takes one to know one

Yes, I treat the bus like my own personal zoo. Yes, I point out people's flaws/unique traits. No, it's not always nice.
The thing is, it takes one to know one. I'm not the most normal person in a vehicle either.

I eat raw mushrooms on the bus.
Sometimes, a Jonas Brothers or Hanson song plays a little too loudly on my iPod.
I often fall asleep on the bus. I once woke up to someone trying to lift my backpack beside me. I'm not sure if I snore.
I almost fell over when I was on the bus once. I was seated.
I think I breathe loudly when I can't hear myself.
My glasses fog up when it's cold out. I have to wait until they defog before I can see again. 
I stare at people creepily to write for this blog. 

There are probably far more odd things about my transit-riding self, but I figure that's enough for now. This is why I can write about others; I'm one of them.

The benefits of journalism

You know how I complain about editing in the basement, taking a bus with strange people and doing tons of assignments? Well, some interviews make it all worth it.

I interviewed Hilly and Hannah Hindi of the popular Hillywood Show on YouTube. I've been a fan for a while, so I was ecstatic when they said I could speak with them.
We spoke for almost 25 minutes about their channel and plans for the future. They were incredibly nice and it was easy to hear the passion they have for what they do. They've worked hard to get their video views.
Can't wait to send them the magazine when it's done!

The latest Hillywood video:

Life in the dungeon

School's gotten busy fast. I always feel like I should be doing some sort of school work and I stress even if I can't do an assignment right away. Because of all of the projects being thrown at me, I practically live in the Humber dungeon. Humber has a dungeon?! Yes. Yes, it does.
The video editing suites are cold, lonely and lit only by fluorescent lights.  A place like that drives people insane. It's no wonder journalism and film students start spinning in chairs, singing and fighting with each other while editing.
People in my program are actually at school today to edit videos. ON A SUNDAY! That's nuts. I'm so glad I finished editing my vids.
Speaking of which:
Humber's Got Talent and Humber's Job Fair

Food

Leave it to people on the bus to make regular food look gross.
A few days back, a woman beside me decided to eat one of those SnackPack pudding cups. That's not too weird until you realize she didn't have a spoon and proceeded to squish and slurp from the cup. The sugary smell was nauseating too. After finishing the pudding, she pulled out a set of nail clippers and cut her cuticles right there beside me. The bus is not a place to cut your skin, people! I don't want it flinging at me.

Yesterday, the bus started to stink like some sort of sausage or deli meat. The stench filled up the vehicle after a wave of passengers boarded, so I couldn't tell who was to blame. I wasn't even sure if it was from some sort of sandwich or from a person's body/clothing. Either way, it was pretty gross for a vegetarian like me.

A woman sat beside me and pulled out an apple in a bag. I was glad someone was finally eating something healthy and relatively scentless on the bus. The problem? Two of the times she bit the crunchy apple, the apple juice sprayed all over me! The woman didn't even say anything when it was apparent I had been sprayed.