Stormy Skies

I chose to do my second field assignment on COM internships because I was right in the middle of the process of getting mine approved. I thought I was being a little clever by choosing to write about something that was spawned thanks to my last field assignment, but maybe that’s just my vanity speaking.

Maybe.

Regardless, it’s getting to that point in my education quest that I’ve started hearing the grumbling from fellow upper-classmen (and women) about the arduous process of finding an internship, and then getting it approved by the revered - if not feared - Dr. Kallan. After my experience with the whole process, which appears to have been much easier than many students, I was curious to see what it was that made it all such a pain in the neck.

What I found was a lot of what we as students hear about getting a real job. As internships become more and more competitive, it becomes harder for students to find internships that offer more than a class in paper-pushing. As the number of good internships goes down, and the number of students looking for internships goes up, a funnel is created.

I felt like this field assignment went fine, although to be honest, I don’t think it’s as interesting as either of the other two field assignments I did. The interviews were also a little harder to set up because of conflicting schedules with my sources, but it’s all over now, minus the editing process.

This process just gets easier and easier, something I have the Poly Post to thank for. Once you’ve written 600 word stories twice a week for eight weeks, this 1,000 word article doesn’t seem so hard anymore. 

No one showed up, and the center had no record of the event. Well, so much for live event coverage.

We’ll file this under live no-event coverage.

I showed up too early (NO SUCH THING) for the APLIN (Asian Pacific Islander Center) Winter workshop which is about student activism, so I figured I’d do a little live blogging during the event to help me take better notes, and have a more accurate memory of the event when I’m writing about it in two hours. 

All I know about the event is who is putting it on (APLIN), where it’s taking place (Orion room in the Bronco Student Center at Cal Poly Pomona), when it’s taking place (1-2 p.m.) and why it’s taking place (APLIN does a workshop every quarter).

That’s the easy stuff; it’s the how that will take up the most space in my story. Will the workshop have a speaker, or will there be activities? Is there a leader? Or several? Who’s going to show up? How many people? Who will make for the best interviews? A couple leaders and a student or two? All students with one leader? 

I’ve never personally covered an APLIN story, but I’ve heard good things about the people, and I’ve talked to Andrew Dang, one of the student leaders, before. I’ll throw up more posts from my phone as the event begins and goes on, and they’ll all have the #APLINWS tag, as well as the #PolyPost tag, if you’d like to follow along. 

As most of my reporting classmates know after two quarters of blogging, I’ve worked at Disneyland for a little over a year. Those that have read my recent blogs know I’ll be leaving Disneyland in two weeks to start an internship with the Rancho Cucamonga Quakes. If you were really paying attention, you may have noticed I was not in reporting class last night. Allow me to give you a little insight as to why I missed a whole day of school yesterday. 

It all began yesterday, February 29, 2012. You may know it is as Leap Day, a once every four years occurrence. I woke up at 6:30 a.m. because my fiance got up at 6:30 a.m. to work out. I didn’t go back to sleep because I wasn’t tired anymore, despite knowing I had work from 10:00 p.m. to 2:00 a.m. that evening. I had (have) homework to do and figured an early start couldn’t hurt anything. 

You may know that thirty minutes before I woke up, in Anaheim, California, thousands of Disney maniacs were admitted to the magic kingdom for 24 hours of Disney insanity. Or Dinsanity. Or Disnesanity. You get the idea. 

I spent the day at school, knowing I would be more productive there than at home. Most of my day was spent in the same room our reporting class is held on Tuesday and Thursday nights, working on my article for my magazine journalism class. At around 5:30 p.m. I met a friend for dinner at Brea before meeting another friend at work (Disneyland) at 8:45 so we could get our costumes before work. We were working the 1:00 a.m. showing of Fantasmic! that evening for the first time since the show went dark (refurbishment) in early January.

Traffic around the resort was nightmarish. There was a stream of traffic from Long Beach to Anaheim, and cars were backed up three exits on I-5 South before the resort. The park was at capacity by 10:00 p.m, and it probably wasn’t the first time that day. 

As my friend and I waded through the crowds to reach costuming, we began to realize what awaited us. These guests weren’t bailing out at 3:00 a.m. to get some sleep. No, these guests were going the distance; some of them had been camped out since 10:00 p.m. on Tuesday, they weren’t giving up now. 

We clocked in at 10:00 p.m., the earliest Fantasmic! shift of the evening, with the exception of our leads (immediate supervisors), and the ropes were already set up, the seating areas already full. Guests were sleeping on blankets, saving spots for large groups, guests with wheelchairs were near the front of the areas (all strollers/wheelchairs must be collapsed or at the back of seating sections, so they don’t block the view of guests behind them. A wheelchair section is also offered, but many guests prefer the seating sections.), and the Pirates of the Caribbean queue went back towards the Haunted Mansion. It was one of those nights.

For the next three hours, I played counselor to guests who were defending their spots from intruders, making sure everyone remained at some semblance of peace, while also convincing parents that, yes, they need to take their children out of the strollers by 12:30 a.m. to collapse the strollers. Once the show started, I was able to stand and enjoy it. The new fountains look great, even thought it’s safe to say that only the biggest Disney geeks (and those who have seen the show over 100+ times, like myself) could tell the difference. 

I was supposed to clock out at 1:40 a.m., but it was not to be. I had been extended until 4:00 a.m. to help control the Pirates queue. I, along with five or six other cast members, guided guests to the back of the queue, while making sure guests did not inadvertently enter the line halfway through. Time went quickly, and soon my friend and I were heading back to our cars, readying ourselves for the drive home. 

At this point I hadn’t eaten since 8:00 p.m., hadn’t slept in 22 hours and had a hour-long drive ahead of me. So I stopped at the only place open at 4:00 a.m., McDonalds. They were only serving breakfast at this point, so I grabbed my breakfast sandwich and a Coke before heading on my way. 

It was at the 57/60 interchange that I began to grow drowsy. I didn’t think I was going to be able to make it home at this rate, so I ducked off the freeway to get some Starbucks, as they had begun opening for the morning. I got four shots of espresso, guzzled them as quickly as I could and proceeded to limp home. After arriving home at 5:00 a.m., I collapsed into bed, readying myself for three hours of sleep before school. It didn’t come. I slept for one hour, and woke up nauseous as I had ever been before. I’ll skip the details, but I wasn’t back in bed until 11:00 a.m., and I was ready to die.

I slept until 7:00 p.m., and had missed the entire school day, including an interview I had set up for The Poly Post. I feel worse about that then missing any number of classes. 

Let this be a lesson to you all. The next time you try to pull an “all-nighter,” or go an extreme amount of time without sleep, think of me. And get off my lawn, will ya? 

This week, some very good friends of my fiance and I are visiting us from Texas. They got married a month ago, they’re either finishing (or already finished) their school, they’ve moved out, whatever. They’re a step ahead of my fiance and me. 

I think I’m ready, but I know I’m scared. Within the next year I’ll have to start sending out my resume and to prepare myself for the inevitable moving and changing that will come after I get hired. Not if I get hired, when I get hired. 

Where is the biggest question mark for me at this stage of my life. I have to prepare myself for everything that will come with relocating, if that is the path I’ll be heading down. The abstract idea of relocation does not frighten me in the least; in fact, I’m fairly excited about the idea of leaving California for a new land and new opportunities.

Still, I have to wonder if I’m ready to rent an apartment, buy a new car, go grocery shopping for myself without a safety net. Right now, I pay my own bills and am generally self-supporting; but if there is a week where I don’t make as much money as last, or if I were to break my leg or get the measles, I’d be able to go to my parents and be okay.

That’s not going to be the case if I’m in Tulsa, Hartford or Springfield. I think I’m more excited than scared. I think so. So now, I start to prepare myself as best as possible while living at my girlfriend’s parents’ house by separating myself from all strings of dependence. 

It’s time like this that I’m glad I’m with someone as supportive as Alex is. I know I can talk to her about any of my concerns without fear of judgment or condemnation. There’s no way I could do this without her. Whether it’s dealing with education stress, work problems or miscommunication with my parents - she’s always there for me. She’s my anti-depressant, the marijuana to my Hunter S. Thompson. Or, you know, something like that. 

It’s a blessing from the Romans that February is such a short month. Less than one month away from the time of year where athletes flood the otherwise desolate state of Arizona, and the otherwise nearly unlivable state of Florida to earn/solidify their spot on a Major League Baseball team. 

I won’t be able to attend Spring Training this year because of financial restrictions, but it’s one of the most enjoyable baseball experiences available to fans. Lots of autographs, lots of great seats, lots of great food (especially in Scottsdale) and lots of baseball a month early. 

For baseball fans without the ability to love more than one sport, this also signifies the end of a long winter filled with football, hockey and basketball. It’s a great time of year filled with hope from baseball teams with lots of hope (the damn Red Sox) to little hope (I’m sorry, Pittsburgh).

If you’re a baseball fan in southern California, there’s no reason to not head out to Mesa, Tempe or Scottsdale at least once every couple of years. The drive is short, about four or five hours; the board is cheap, I’ve paid around $100 a night for a Courtyard Marriott; and the atmosphere is unlike anything you’ll find at a major league baseball stadium, so you don’t have to be worried about being harassed by a bunch of drunk fools from the valley.  

That being said, don’t stick with what you’re familiar with - check out fields that your team doesn’t play in. The Arizona Diamondbacks and Colorado Rockies share the brand new Salt River Fields at Talking Stick, pictured below. It’s absolutely beautiful, and there’s no reason to stick to the Dodgers’ home in Phoenix just because it’s their field. 

Go once a year, check out one or two fields each time and soak up the experience. Take advantage of close baseball a month early; if you’re a baseball fan, you’ll be glad you did.

Four years ago the New York (football) Giants played the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLII. I was 16 years old and a Junior in high school. I watched the game at a huge party at the church I attended at the time, mostly to pick up on girls and eat free pizza. I’ve always liked football, but let’s be real, girls > football when you’re 16. And when you’re 116. 

I had been attending the church for a couple of years and new some people, but wasn’t particularly outgoing; nor did I have any interest in meeting most of the people in attendance. So I sat around, ate pizza and hit on my sister’s friends. That was life at 16. I’m in no rush to head back there. As it so happens, there was a girl named Alex in attendance that day. She had gone to the church since junior high, and knew just about everyone. Except me, as it turns out.

Fast-forward four years. The New York (football) Giants once again squared off against the New England Patriots. This time, I watched it at my fiance’s house; where I did much of the same as I did four years ago. I ate a lot, sat around and hung out with my fiance’s dad. In four years I went from not knowing Alex’s name to becoming engaged and watching the Super Bowl at her house. Some things do change, as it turns out.

The two football games serve as two borders, or markers, that show just how much can change in such a short period of time. If you had asked me if I was going to be engaged in four years while I watched Eli Manning’s herp-derp face defeat Tom Brady’s girly hair for the first time, I would’ve laughed at you. In four years from now, who knows if Brady and Manning will even be playing football anymore. So I guess it’s a good thing I’ve found a new constant, right?