7 feet of intimacy.

It goes like this.

I'm standing at the rainbow graffitied table

having left the room

yellow sun beams seeping through closed blinds

searching for my keys

they're right there

I see them, I'm stalling

still, no flinching

Because by this point

I've already turned around

to see him emerging

from his room

dark wash jeans

pale blue cotton shirt

loose

tranquil

I see him leaning against the door frame

emerged and

staring

at me.

Only me, no other girl

while I clumsily look for my keys

they're right there

I look back again

still staring

The distance between us

unbearable

it allows him full view

my head to my toe

and every fleshy curve in-between

his eyes

we make eye contact

he keeps staring

not like other guys

they're ashamed to look

I've caught them

solemn eyes averted immediately

damn it, they think

she knows.

Of course I know!

we all know.

So either look,

or don't.

this guy in the pale blue

leaning against the door frame

he gets it

It doesn't matter to him that I know

he wants me to look

he likes me to know

to participate

me seeing him seeing me

pale blues, yellow light beams

slightly blurring my vision

dark-wash jeans

because an intimate moment

like this one right here

it takes two.

He in the door frame

me at the graffiti

Seven feet of distance

Seven feet of intimacy.

Just several days on Bohol. NMC Post #8

As this is the last post for my beat blog for my reporting class, I felt it would be fitting to write on one of my favorite locations that my family has ever gone: Bohol, Philippines.

A single island can seem diminutive if it is just one that makes up a country of over 7,000. This is the case of the Philippines, an island nation in the South East of Asia that has a colorful history and just as colorful a culture.When my family and I lived in China, it took a simple hop-skip-and-a-jump to travel by plane to one of the main Filipino islands, Cebu, and then from there take a three hour ferry ride to Bohol where we spent the bulk of our Christmas vacation.

Bohol itself, though famous for a few national landmarks is tiny, and not really on the map as far as major travel destinations in the Philippines. It actually is home to some of the poorest families in the country.As we got off the ferry and waited for our resort's van to come pick us up, we gathered what we could to develop first impressions of the place: hot, dry and poor. However, we enjoyed every minute of it because the Filipinos, especially ones on this island, are the friendliest people in the world. They treat tourists like kings and queens by serving warm coca-colas in glass bottles and offering their precious shade.

In this country, what I truly came to find was every person we met had the best of intentions and genuinely wanted to accommodate us in whatever way possible-- even if those ways were limited because of no money or resources.

The drive from the ferry port to our resort was three more hours on a lush, green winding road that parallels the bluest coastal waters. The driver was ready and willing to stop whenever we wanted for pictures, bathroom breaks, etc. and made sure the internal temperature of the car was absolutely where we wanted it.

The hotel itself seemed to be in the middle of a jungle, and the van had to drive over an extremely bumpy dirt road to get to it. We were literally one of two guests at the hotel, so whatever royal treatment we would have received with more guests, it was doubled.

Bohol is a town meant for walking. The farther away from the ferry port one goes, the worst the roads gets. Locals don't own cars, so transportation methods are limited to feet and rusty electric scooters. My dad and I made a point to make the hour long walk to town every morning to experience the people and sites.
There were several things we noticed on our long walks, but the most prominent memory in my mind are the kids who greeted us as we walked past their houses (or huts if you will.) They were always in big groups and would yell the only English greeting words they knew to welcome us with the biggest smiles on their faces.

When we walked into convenience stores for sunscreen and snacks, all extremely cheap) the vendors would do their best to converse in limited English and in the process would add in some Filipino words, which fortunately for us sound a lot like Spanish because of the country's history as a territory of Spain many many years ago.

Bohol is known for it's "chocolate mountains," and for that reason sometimes debuts on The Philippines travel brochures. The hills are nothing like I had ever seen before, with rounded tops and the darkest soil.

Food in Bohol was, besides dirt cheap, delicious. They focused mainly on sea food because of their coastal location, and also seemed to like chicken dishes.

My favorite part of Bohol, though it's almost impossible to choose, was sitting on the white sand beach and staring at the horizon. I remember a specific afternoon in particular when the weather was slightly overcast and the sky and water were exactly the same color. It was mesmerizing.

After departing from Bohol we spent some time in Cebu, which is more of a hot crowded city. What we discovered there as tourists is that it would take a lifetime to experience the whole of the Philippines and all of its thousands islands. However, National Geographic Traveler seemed to capture the culture pretty wholly in their picture slide show

Matt Neznanski. NMC post #7

For our reporting class last Thursday, media expert Matt Neznanski, who I will from now on refer to as Matt because of that last name, talked with us about the evolving media industry and what it takes to become a part of it.

I had a few questions for him before he even took the podium due to his current position as Director of Communications at Brass Media and his former job as a reporter for the Gazette-Times.

The questions I had to ask him were important to me because I aspire to be apart of the media industry via reporting:

*Do you think the art of reporting is considered less and less significant and is not a valued trade since there are so many easy ways to tell a story (i.e. Twitter, Facebook, etc.)

*What are your suggestions for gaining followers anywhere on the web, like on a blogger account for example, because simply getting someone to read your blog does not mean they will choose to follow?

*Regarding readers comments and interactive media on news sites and blogs, have people gotten harsher and ruder because of how easy it is to post those comments anonymously, or have readers always been so harsh and now just have a convenient way of expressing their negative feedback?

Each of these questions were answered in full by Matt, one of them without me even having to ask.

His presentation, "New Reporting in a multimedia world- or do we really need reporters any more?" was surprisingly insightful and practical in the way that he talked about new tools and ideas that are constantly being thought up. He didn't seem to sugarcoat any of the information the way that many professionals do. He told it like it is.

One of the best concepts that Matt presented rules that make online journalism the same as written journalism:

*Don't plagiarize

*disclose, disclose, disclose

*don't accept gifts for coverage

*check it out, and tell the truth and

*be honest.

"Ultimately, what it comes down to is trust," he said.

Matt also discussed trends and the big things that are happening in social media, including the idea that it is spreading to the underdeveloped regions of the world. Facebook and Twitter are "not just happening in highly developed nations, but in Syria," he said. "To me, this is exciting and it's reasserting my faith in journalism."

When I heard this, I remembered the initial reasons I wanted to become a journalist in the first place. As Matt asserted, journalism of any type whether it is online, written or on TV is getting the word out, being a witness for people who are not there and presenting the story in the clearest, most detailed structure possible. This is what matters to me.

Another key concept of Matt's discussion was citizen journalism; that is, the ability for any joe shmoe on the street to create news for the world to see. This is something that didn't used to be possible until the world takeover of twitter and youtube. Now social media sites have made it possible for literally anyone with a wifi connection to "report" and be a "journalist." This information can be disheartening to someone who wants to make a career out of journalism. How can a person get paid to do something that EVERYONE is already doing?

Matt brought to light the benefits of good journalism and basically summed up the reasons why there will always be a place in the media world for reporters. Good stories with valuable information are what people will always want, even if that same story is getting told a hundred different ways on someone's twitter account.

"I grew up in a time when there was a rift in how you live online and in real life," Matt said. "But you should try to blend online life with real life."

Advice that Matt gave from a reporters point of view were also a big help, including keeping your ear to the internet and maintaining good listening skills.

His biggest suggestion of the night? Staying in conversation.

"Your story as a professional is just the beginning point, continue to revisit the work you do."

really me.

Even though this blog has been used as an assignment for the past seven or eight weeks, I'd like to right now utilize it for its original purpose: personal proclamation.

The following has nothing to do with my passions, my aspirations or any other forms of future-seeking expression. It's just me, right now I'm needing a space to be real.

Sometimes I feel put in a box by the people around me. Not often, but sometimes. I feel like there are certain reactions people have to what I have to say and even though they are not negative, it frustrates me. I'll be even realer right now, these "people" mean the souls that live in my house, that share a place of residency, that accompany me under one roof.

I'm a very busy person. I am involved with many different things and not a day goes by when I am not constantly thinking about something that has to get done. I don't want to seem like I am a stressed person or I am complaining about all the amazing ways that God keeps me busy and has bestowed blessing after blessing in my daily living. Obviously, I wouldn't have it any other way.

Just to shed some light on some of those blessings: I am a reporter for the Daily Barometer, the student-run newspaper at Oregon State, I am an ambassador of the College of Liberal Arts, I am a regularly-attending member and volunteer at Grace City Church, I am an employee at the Corvallis Boys and Girls Club, I am a full time student learning everything from the history of Spain to cinematography and somehow God has this comedic way of helping me maintain some of the most amazing friendships anyone could ask for.

Taking a step back and looking at the people and events the Lord lets me witness everyday helps me realize that Holy Moses! My life is just so perfectly laid-out for me, and no one else.

There are literally days when a story I am writing for the paper allows me to meet famous people and build a small relationship with them. Many times at work, I get to experience a relationship with a child who lives in a homeless shelter, and get inspired by her humor and manners and charm.

But after all of that is said and done and I come home every night at whatever hour, I frequently feel as if I have nothing to say because my room mates have heard all of it before. No matter how spirit-filled my day was, no matter whose presence God decided to bless me with, I feel like the reactions to my words are predictable and rarely heartfelt.

I'v never been the type to just bring up how lucky I am if nobody asks. Therefore, something has to be pretty damn fantastic for it to merit an out-of-the-blue proclamation. This may be an area of my life that needs work, but I much prefer talking about something if someone asks me about it. Therefore my point is, and I do have a point...somewhere...I just know it, that the last time one of my room mates whole-heartedly asked me about what's going on in my life or how the Lord has been working in me was a very, very long time ago.

Now, my dad's first reaction to this statement, indeed a very bold one since I love and care for the people I live with, would be "Do you ask them about what's going in their life, Joce?" The answer is yes, at least in my mind. Even if the answer were no, though, I'd have a reason behind it.

I feel put in a box! There is really no other way to describe it. When my house mate asks me how work was and I say something very honest like "Amazing, this kid trusted me enough to talk about his screwed up home life and his dying sister," their inevitable reaction is "Joc, that's awesome." When one of my house mates asks me about a really cool story I wrote for the paper, the moment I get into how much I enjoyed writing it is the same moment that reaction comes: "Joc, that's awesome."

Let me be clear and let it be said here that I am in no way seeking recognition or gratitude or praise for anything that I do. When it gets down to it, it truly is all God's doing. What I am seeking is sincerity. I want a real response that hasn't been used on me dozens of times. I don't want the how-I-respond-to-Joce-when-she's-excited-about-God reaction. Honestly, it's starting to bug me.

From this point on, since this is the first time I have expressed any sort of discontentment in this area of my life, I will be paying full attention to the way I react to people when they are telling me about what's happening in their life. I refuse to put people in a box by reacting to their emotions in a generic way. It took me an extremely long, wordy blog post to reach this conclusion. Thanks for stickin' it out with me, I would love prayer over my interactions with my house mates because they are meaningful to me.

On an ending note, I feel like I'm about to throw up because I think someone smoked in my room! The smell is almost unbearable and its the reason I am blogging instead of sleeping. That is all, good night. May the Lord bless you and keep you.

Mighty Orinoco/ NMC Post #6

All photos on or around the Orinoco River in the following post are my own taken from a trip my family experienced four years ago when living in Venezuela.

People assume the concept of powerful, resourceful rivers in South America is limited to the Amazon. People are wrong. The Orinoco River, in all of its beauty, tranquility and power, is no doubt a force to be reckoned with.

In a recent article published by The Sydney Morning Herald, Venezuela claimed to have the largest crude oil reserves in the world, surpassing even Saudi Arabia. It has been Latin America's leading exporter for the last decade, due mainly to the oil-rich Orinoco Belt.

The story informed that "last year some 30 companies from more than 20 different countries were operating in the Orinoco Belt, an oil reserve of some 55,314 square kilometers in the Orinoco River area." The river has been a target for domestic and foreign investment for years, as it is categorized as heavy to extra-heavy in its amount of oil reserves.

I was surprised after reading this article, even after spending three full years in Venezuela embarrassingly enough, that the Orinoco is such a plentiful natural resource. I was surprised because when my family and I went there for our vacation, there seemed to be absolutely nothing industrious about it. Other than the locals, who were extremely up-to-date on the elements of modern technology, it seemed like a setting defined by its behind-the-times

qualities.

We traveled with a group of foreigners, meaning of every nationality but Venezuelan- though there were Venezuelans with us as well. The trip from our home in Puerto la Cruz to our river-side bungalows took half a day, or at least it did in my memory. Upon arrival to the river itself, we had to mount boats that took us to our hotel, where every room was its own hut, or "bungalow." The hotel had a cafe that provided us with breakfast, lunch and dinner, since getting meals anywhere near was out of the question.

For the three days we were on the Orinoco, we went on multiple treks, mostly by boat to explore the different banks and sites. The second day there, we were taught the logistics of piranha fishing and were later handed sticks with fishing lines tied to the ends. Somehow, the natives have lived a perfectly functioning civilization thus far by catching fish with sticks and fish lining, so I remember being determined to prove myself. The group also walked through the jungle for a mile or two before becoming overcome by the mud.

Among all the sites and surprises, what I really remember is the width and current on the river. It was enough to carry a boat with little human effort to any desired destination, and is also apparently enough to supply much of the world with crude oil. It was intimidating, but comforting, knowing the power of the river was far greater than any man-made machine or contraption within hundreds of miles.

Those from Croatia: Croats? / NMC 302 post #5

take a look at this.

Yes, it's okay to stare. Take all the time you need. As you look, what and where do you think of? When I saw this photo from a Croatian travel website, I thought it was provocative. But if not that, it at least had the potential to provide an escape, even if just for six seconds.

When I was in the second grade and living in Bratislava, Slovakia, my family took a week of vacation in Croatia (located in between Slovenia and Bosnia and Herzegovina on the Adriatic.) Due to my age and acute unawareness of reality, I remember zero logistics (like the name of the city we were in, for example) but what did stick with me were the vivid colors and sensations that defined, in my mind, Croatia to the core.

National Geographic Traveler recently highlighted the small, fairly unknown country in a series of photos. As photo journalism is just as important than written journalism, if in no more ways than its ability to influence the visual direction of an audience, I thought elaboration on my brief connection to the country was necessary.

Croatia is recognized most for it's coasts. They are very versatile, and this I know from comparing the Croatian beach of my distant memory to the beaches shown in the photo spread. Though very different, each one is breathtaking.

The city in which we stayed for a week had white sand beaches and extremely warm weather. No chance of rain. No chance of doing anything with your time that did not require you to let loose and relax. I remember waking up, slipping into my swim suit, walking down to the water's edge from our hotel room and not moving the rest of the day.

Not moving, of course, is not the only option while on the beautiful shoreline of the Adriatic Sea. The activities we took part in often involved ice cream and, unwillingly- as I had absolutely no say at the time- globs of sunscreen. The sun means business in Croatia.

Other than lazy walks and too many scoops of amazing gelato (we weren't too far from Italy, remember) the four of us rode to a nearby island for a day trip on a boat with 100 others, and enjoyed beautiful freshly-caught seafood along the way.

To cater to the young ones of the group (besides me, there was my younger brother who was six at the time) my dad took us on a Banana boat (a large banana-shaped tube that sits six people and drags behind a speed boat) and, the most unforgettable experience of all, para sailing (a para sail is a parachute with a harness that seats two and also gets dragged behind a speed boat, but this time hundreds of feet in the air.)

All this, and who knows how much more thanks to my failed memory, was enjoyed in just one week in a single small city in Croatia. According to the pictures from National Geographic, it seems a wise decision to plan for more than a week.

Lose Yourself in Phuket. NMC 302 post #4

After reading a New York Times travel article on Phuket, Thailand, I found that people who go to this island discover two things: 1) they don't want to leave and 2) they fall in love with the place and culture for the quirks that have solidified its position on the global map of tourism.

In the story, travel reporter Ingrid K. Williams spends 36 heavenly hours on this island and informs readers of the 12 ways to make the most of a trip there. She writes of the best places to dine, relax, shop and be entertained.

Because my family got the opportunity to visit Phuket during my senior year of high school (and I knew the moment I walked out of the airport into the humid, sunlit paradise that Thailand would remain an object of my traveling affections for the rest of my life) I can personally suggest a vacation to Phuket to anyone looking for a complete getaway from the issues of reality.

The amazing thing about Phuket (pronounced "poo-ket") is its past struggle to survive as a vacation hotspot after suffering a devastating tsunami in 2004. However, Williams suggests that "the island has firmly reasserted itself as a premier beach resort."

The "Best of Phuket" list began with a beach that lines the major city of Kamala. The water is so devastatingly warm and clear that an Oregonian would need a pinch to be sure it's not a dream.

Other sections of the list represented the culturally-diverse activities that tourists enjoy. As a predominantly Buddhist nation, intricate clay and jade sculptures of Buddha are in great supply and line the shelves of every souvenir shop.

One must also consider the national sport of Thailand, a form of martial art called "muay Thai." Spectators watch fighters of all ages (as young as 10) kick and punch each other in the face and then win prizes for the best performance. Tourists themselves are not excluded from participation in the ring.

Elephants must be experienced while in Phuket. Multiple elephant treks and excursions are offered in every city and tourists can choose how long of an adventure they want to take. Rides last anywhere from a half hour to all-day trips.

Dining and drinking in this country is not, by American standards, expensive. In fact, with 32 baht to the dollar and most meals in reasonable yet delicious restaurants ranging between 90 and 100 baht, an American can dine like a king for very little money.

From personal experience, though the price will be good no matter where you go, the best places to eat are small local food booths and street-side restaurants (usually outdoor.) These eateries offer the freshest fruit, vegetables and sea food- and are also the perfect representation of what locals spend their precious baht on.