I sat in some nervous stupor as we entered the Pavillion at about 8:30 a.m. I sipped my on my coffee and shifted around, searching for some fellow Union staff. I refused some sustinance and took part in some light-hearted pre-competition humor until the Pavillion doors opened and the Union made its way to the front. Throghout the speeches and the like, my fellow competitiors and I eagerly scribbled down every last word that was said in order to take it back to the competition rooms in the hopes to slay the competition. Journalism is a lot like that, you know. Once again I found myself in a chilly competition room and the countdown began. My story ended with three pages. My next competition was immediatly after: news judgment/page layout. I was certain this would not turn out well. After all, the only reason I was entering it was because my adviser wanted me to--right? Despite the fact that I had been reassured since the morning before that I would do well in this particular competition, there was not a bone in me ready to believe it just yet.My EIC brought me a broadsheet layout dummy page. I began sketching and selecting stories in the hopes that my schooling was serving me well. My EIC finished first with only 10 minutes to go. When I was done, I had no idea what I was stepping into. Suzy had left somewhere on foot, leaving me waiting in anticipation over if we were going to make it back to the hotel in time to check out without them charging us for another night. It smelled oddly like some, as if all the stress-filled college students charged out the Titan Student Union doors to have a cigarette. I paced. Apparently, everyone could see me through the clear glass doors of the Pavillion area of the Titan Student Union. I got a text: "Stop pacing," it said. I stifled my laughter and continued to wonder where the smell was coming from.
"Are you lost, little girl?"
Shit! Now I was in for it!
Nevermind, it was only Ivan. But what we he doing there? A fire broke out on the hillside--two of them, as a matter of fact. He was up there taking pictures. It was still not visible from behind the larger building of Cal State Fullerton by the time Suzy called and told me to start heading back over to the hotel. Our room was on the fifth floor. We pulled aside the curtain to see what was out there as if we expected to see War of the World come to life before our eyes, right outside our window. What we did see was a wave of smoke created by two separate fires intercepting each other. One could barely see the flicker of yellow and orange in the midst of the terrible black abyss that was the smoke and ash rising from the hills. In little time, the rain of ash and smoke billowed over Cal State Fullerton and the Marriott. As soon as we stepped out to prepare to go back to the TSU, we felt a burn in our faces. It had only been a half hour since we had last been outside. This was a JACC we would not soon forget! When we arrived at the TSU, it did not appear strange, even as we made it into the Pavillion. After a bit, however, we noticed the atmosphere had a red glow about everything in its wake. We made it to one last lecture before it was time to getting ready with the smell of the fire creeping in from every crack and crevice despite all efforts to calm its effects. We didn't know it yet, but the sky was turning a fiery color and altered the state of the daytime light.
We walked back in the derious sunlight and began to prepare for the awards, determined to be the fanciest school there. We admired our awkward sun and burning red sky just a bit before entering the hotel again, with the daunting scratch and burn of the smoke wrapping around us. The sun sat high like a mighty, angered God ready to commense deforesation by means of incessent fire in order to rock us out of our competitive demeanor. We monopolized the bathrooms near the pool for our vanity until Suzy and I were ready to load everything back into Filip's car. We stopped by Starbucks, myself looking like an absolute loon to most considering the elegance of my dress. It was cool in there, but it did the trick at keeping the smell of smoke out. I did my part in America's unviersal jumping on the gun and got myself a Christmas drink, a venti at that, of which I took my sweet time consuming. There was a slideshow full of images crazy students took of the fire. Then the moment of truth. The Union came away with 20 awards by the end of the night. As for me--I took third place in broadsheet layout. Imagine that!For the most part, there was a calm air about everyone. It was incredible that such a small staff prevailed so greatly. A staff of only five writers and only eight of the nine editorial board spots filled took on the competition and came away with an award in almost every catagory. We hopped on the 91, me encouraging Filip to race Miyu down the freeway. And there, long conversation ensued about practically everything. It was calming to sit back and watch the road go by, leaving the fires behind us, and calmly expressing what seemed like everything I could ever say. Finally, in what seemed like one heartbreaking moment, Filip and I arrived at my house. It was a moment in which I wished time could go backward and I could relive the entire weekend. Jouralism opened new doors to me that weekend and showed me how much higher than the clouds it was. It was meant to be--the people there were all my exact clones when it comes to personality. The ideas, the innovations, the conceptual prowess was all meant for me. Journalism was all mine that weekend. And with its comforts, as well as the comforts of my staff, I knew I was meant for it all. For the love of journalism.
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