The Joy of Quiet

"We have more and more ways to communicate, as Thoreau noted, but less and less to say. Partly because we’re so busy communicating. And — as he might also have said — we’re rushing to meet so many deadlines that we hardly register that what we need most are lifelines."

Great article in the New York Times about slowing down and enjoying the quiet.

A Calling

"Journalists work for themselves, but also for an audience. What we sell is something good and precious, the most incisive and artful rendering of human events that we can produce. If you don't feel that way, then you might as well surrender and apply to law school."

- Letters to a Young Journalist, Samuel Freedman

I laughed out loud (and also cried and cheered) when reading this book because it was like the author was reading my mind. It's been like the journalism mentor I never had; it has confirmed all of my passions and has dispelled all of my doubts. It knew all of my fears, but the deepest desires in me to tell the stories of others. Just the right amount of idealism, tempered with practical advice. It believed in me!

The author also teaches at Columbia J-School, which I just submitted my application to. And now the waiting begins.

I always thought idealism was one of my deepest faults - people telling me that I need to be rational, realistic, get a stable job. And I've tried to follow their advice, but only have been left feeling deeply unsatisfied. And it's not like I don't know that it'll be a hard job, with lots of disappointments.

Samuel Freedman describes journalism as a calling. He even goes further to say that it is a "moral calling" and that "anyone who doesn't enter journalism believing it is a moral enterprise might as well move straight on to speculating in foreign currency or manufacturing Agent Orange."

Maybe a little presumptuous, I know. But we are journalists. And I couldn't be happier to have made this decision.

!!!!!!!

Constant surprises

i'm afraid this blog has turned into one of those vehicles of telling newly-wed stories, but trust me - this is a good one.

today i came home to find daniel with a sewing machine.

can we just pause here for a second?

I. FOUND. DANIEL. WITH. A. SEWING MACHINE.

...

Not only this - he had bought it with his own money to sew his very own clothing.

You think you know someone, and then they pull something like this on you. What's next? Revealing to me that he is a secret pastry chef who learned during the time he was living in France? (Oh please, I hope so.)

Happy Anniversary

So we tried keeping the top layer of our wedding cake to bust out for our 1-year anniversary, but after trying to manage having it take up half of our freezer space, we decided to nix it and make room for more important matters. Like 3 tubs of ice cream.

I guess it was a little hard for me to let go of at first, but when I opened the box, a sizable chunk had been eaten. It was hilarious. We were out of ice cream for a week, so I guess the husband decided to break into the sacred wedding cake that was supposed to be eaten on the day we celebrated one-year of marital bliss.

I wish I had a picture for it. I guess we'll just have to eat fresh cake March 20, 2012.

Corelli's Mandolin

An excerpt from the most beautiful book I am reading:

"Love is a temporary madness, it erupts like volcanoes and then subsides. And when it subsides, you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion, it is not the desire to mate every second minute of the day, it is not lying awake at night imagining that he is kissing every cranny of your body. No, don't blush, I am telling you some truths. That is just being "in love", which any fool can do. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident."

- Dr. Iannis, in Corelli's Mandolin by Louis de Bernières

The simple things...

Like going for a run in the morning,
or getting my laundry done,
or waking up early enough to make eggs for breakfast
are enough.

I have to remember this. :)



via (weheartit.com).

ps. Where can I find these egg molds? They would instantaneously make my mornings happier.

Asian baby

I almost died watching this video. Enjoy!

Metro love

I take the train these days to and from work. During this hour, I usually sleep, read or look out the window.

I've come to cherish my rides. It's one of those quiet, reflective moments of the day. I especially love the train ride home when I get to see my favorite couple.

I don't know who these two lovers are, but I always see them out my window, re-uniting each day. I got to sit next to the woman during one of my recent rides. She is older, maybe in her late forties, with dark hair pulled back into an unassuming bun. She does not wear jewelry, only a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. She wears floral, long skirts and for some reason, exudes a very quiet and gentle spirit. She has a black, worn-down backpack, from which she pulls out a denim-fabric book that has faded golden letters that read "La Santa Biblia." She reads Isaías the whole ride home.

He, an older Hispanic man, without fail, is at the train stop, waiting for her every single day. When the woman gets off, his whole face brightens with a smile, and so does hers. He, about a foot taller than the woman, then kisses her on the forehead, takes her backpack off her shoulders and swings it over one of his, gently takes her hand into his, and they walk together to their black sedan as if they've been re-united after not having seen each other for years.

I want to thank them for making me die a little everyday. It's a simple, tender moment of love that makes me believe that there is so much good in this world.