After reading that title, I expect you all to have the Christmas song from Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown playing in your head.
But how about it! Summer is here! Internships and cheer! Woot! Of course, I start my summer off by being sick. Go me.
I was waiting in the doctor’s office yesterday, hoping they would sort out this cold-allergy-exhaustion-thingy I’ve had for a week (turns out if I were 2 years old it would be considered croup), when I found myself looking through my trusted planner. For kicks, I used the 10-minute wait to revisit the first few weeks of first semester and my time at the Missourian.
When it comes to me, Gloria Gaynor was right; I would surivive. She was also wrong, however; grammatically, it’s “I shall survive,” not “I will survive.”
And now I bet Vince Guaraldi’s ode to Yuletide joy has been replaced by Motown. But I digress.
This spring semester left me complaining about how bored I was, how little I had to work and my lack of a default homestead, i.e. the Missourian newsroom. But now that second semester of junior year is over, the to-do lists lighter than those from the fall but equally as accomplished. I clearly learned a lot from classes like Magazine Editing (it’s still playing, isn’t it?), but I didn’t walk away with any clips apart from my brief work with Vox during True/False Film Fest. All those great goals set at the beginning? Well, I achieved some but wasn’t able to complete others. I’ve come to terms with that. Grades are in, the semester is done. I recieved a x.xx GPA for the semester, bringing my accumulative to x.xx. Spring Semester 2012: DONE.
And now I’m a senior. Holy Four-Year College, Batman! In a year I’ll be blogging about how I can’t find a job. Holy Bad Economy, Batman!
But before I start talking about my great plans and aspirations for a school year that’s coming up in … three months? Sheesh! … I think I’ll discuss the upcoming summer.
Instead of returning to the Carol Stream Public Library, where I’ve spent the last two summers as a youth service aide (and loving every minute of them), I’m heading out into the world of the downtown Chicago workplace. Trains, buses and city blocks await as I get ready to intern with, fanfair please, The Chicago Reporter, at 332 S. Michigan Avenue. Right across from Grant Park and the Art Institute, it’s pretty much where I’d like to live, let alone work.
I prefer to describe The Chicago Reporter as a localized Mother Jones for the Chicago area. TCR does great work in investigative reporting, occasionally teaming up with NBC5 to produce not only a monthly magazine but also a broadcast news story.
My first day is Tuesday, May 22, as long as NATO protesters haven’t destroyed my fair city, so I’ll probably blog again that night about what duties I’ll be performing and what exciting experiences I hope to have. For now, know that I am over the journalistic moon about working for them!
I also want to send a shout out to my friends, who are all incredibly supportive. In the last 24 hours, I’ve recieved 16 Facebook “Likes” on my status about working there; not as many “Likes” as I got on my “Found a whole roll of Thin Mints in my freezer” status, but close. And that’s truly lovely.