Working for a business magazine certainly has its perks. For instance, yesterday, I was sent home with two beautiful bottles of Cab Sav red wine. The Washington Wine of the Year feature Seattle Magazine is working on resulted in an excess of bottles in our 1st Ave office. And most of the reporters, interns, advertisers and editors reaped the benefits. But, I digress.
Moving cities is never easy. And I'm far from done with it. So when I moved back to Seattle from Eugene, I knew I'd have to play a bit of catch-up in re-learning the top news stories of the year in this vibrant community. In a few short months, I've navigated the system to the point where I feel comfortable attending CEO luncheons, covering state-of-the-industry seminars and interviewing business owners in coffee shops. It's gotten to the point where if I don't begin every morning reading TechFlash, I feel like something's missing. John Cook has become my own personal form of The Today Show-- I crave his news to complete my day. I've written about Seattle's local Bernie Madoffs, highly publicized Ponzi Schemes, the never-ending Boeing layoffs, Microsoft layoffs and folding of several prominent businesses in the area. Intel Research's Open House turned out to be not an afternoon of boring pitches, as I so expected, but a wonderfully creative mecca of up-and-coming technology projects. The brilliance here is endless.
Trite as it sounds, I never dreamed I'd learn this much here. Though I worked for my college daily as the business, science, technology reporter for a quarter, it pales in comparison with all of the hands-on stories I'm able to work on here. Who knew Seattle was such a hotbed for innovative technology, wildly creative startups and the center of the healthcare industry's research and drug labs?
Here are a few of my latest. Am promising to do better with this whole updating business. And here's November's cover story: The Top 25 Innovators and Entrepreneurs of the Year. Congrats to the city's best!
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Reflection
Just came across this blog and laughed out loud reading The List. Definitely check this out if you're in any way a fan of journalism, majoring in the field at a university or currently work for the media.
Other than that, I'm getting really sad to leave my college days behind. My house and my classy roommates had an amazing party last night with all our friends and it was amazing to have so many fun people all together dancing, hanging out, playing games and relaxing in our spacious backyard. I know this isn't the 18th century and we all have cell phones and text messaging, but I know that after Saturday when I walk across that stage to get that diploma, I know things will never be the same again. I will miss walking down the street to find all my friends when I want a big group, late night doughnut runs, the countless coffee dates mid-afternoon in the Eugene sunshine, the late night library cramming sessions with my best friends, laughing so hard my abs hurt, the ease that comes with walking downstairs to your best friends when you're in the mood for company. I'm leaving so much behind, and I hope my life turns out the way I planned it would. Alas, even if it's not the NY Times, I will continue to thrive on my own ambition and set high standards for myself.
Let the crazy, busy grad week festivities begin!
~TS
Other than that, I'm getting really sad to leave my college days behind. My house and my classy roommates had an amazing party last night with all our friends and it was amazing to have so many fun people all together dancing, hanging out, playing games and relaxing in our spacious backyard. I know this isn't the 18th century and we all have cell phones and text messaging, but I know that after Saturday when I walk across that stage to get that diploma, I know things will never be the same again. I will miss walking down the street to find all my friends when I want a big group, late night doughnut runs, the countless coffee dates mid-afternoon in the Eugene sunshine, the late night library cramming sessions with my best friends, laughing so hard my abs hurt, the ease that comes with walking downstairs to your best friends when you're in the mood for company. I'm leaving so much behind, and I hope my life turns out the way I planned it would. Alas, even if it's not the NY Times, I will continue to thrive on my own ambition and set high standards for myself.
Let the crazy, busy grad week festivities begin!
~TS
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Flux
Flux is out! It's gorgeous and glossy and clean-cut and beautiful. I'm proud to have played a role in making this year's UO J-school capstone magazine another nominee for national recognition. Check out my story!
Now, it's back to the job hunt... I'm still slightly shocked no one seems to be in need of a talented, hard working, creative young journalist on the market. If you hear of anyone, hit me up!
Now, it's back to the job hunt... I'm still slightly shocked no one seems to be in need of a talented, hard working, creative young journalist on the market. If you hear of anyone, hit me up!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Semi-charmed kind of life
Fair warning to organized readers who read blogs with the trained eye: this is not organized well
An amalgamation of thoughts
That's about it for today. Will continue to post more and more often. As for the job search, toast your night cap this evening to POTENTIAL.
- I just joined Twitter today. I originally wanted my Twitter name to be taliakate, but instead, it will suffice as taliaschmidt. I suppose it's good for prospective employers to see my full name. That's the main reason I joined the Twitter phenomenon, but I'll admit, after one day, it's pretty addictive. Already, I am following Anderson Cooper, Ashton Kutcher and Mike Fancher. Not bad connections, indeed.
- I finally learned how to cook. I made dinner tonight (yes, using the oven) and it was delicious, if I do say so myself. It's May. Does anyone else find this alarming? I've lived in this house since September with my roommates, who cook about as often as I do, and only now am I taking advantage of this free time I suddenly seem to have sporadically. Half the time I find myself busy til 8 p.m. and other nights I enjoy the sweet freedom.
- My coffee addiction is now full blown. Can't decide if I'm ashamed or immune to caring.
- I so badly want this economy to turn around. I never ever in a million dreams thought I would be the kind of person who graduated from college without job offers or leads. But it's happened. And now that it has, I have no idea what to do. Yes, we all have to deal with rejection, but at some point, the clouds have to part and the rainstorm has to let up, right?
This has got to be the funniest and most accurate op ed piece I've read in awhile: http://media.www.dailyemerald.com/media/storage/paper859/news/2009/05/06/Opinion/A.Tough.Pill.To.Swallow-3737143.shtml
- I want to go see State of Play again. Yes, it's not at all an accurate portrayal of the newsroom (at least the ones I've worked in) nor is realistic or plausible, but it was just so riveting and kept me on the edge of my seat. I did, however, have some rather significant issues with the way journalists are painted in the film; ethics, anyone?
- I am very excited for the Hulteng conference at the Portland Turnbull Center on Friday.
- Mom and I are planning our Italy trip post-graduation. We'll see if we can fit in Greece or Spain, as well.
- Elizabeth Edwards has a surprisingly well written memoir in this week's TIME magazine called "Living with Infidelity."
That's about it for today. Will continue to post more and more often. As for the job search, toast your night cap this evening to POTENTIAL.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Leisure of a kind
I am a graduate. An alum. A 2009 University of Oregon journalism survivor. I should be elated and dancing on air, walking on water, thrilled with the prospects of a bright future and endless possibilities.
Don't get me wrong; I am.
But the future of journalism is changing. Traditional media is no longer what it was and that means severe changes for the entry level reporting position. Consider how I spent my spring break. I applied to very nearly 30 reporter positions at newspapers all across the country. No such luck. At the very least, I was thankful for the numerous rejection letters I received. At least they had the decency to write me back. But most of them read something like this, "Dear Ms. Schmidt, we are sorry to inform you that we filled the reporter position at ______ newspaper. We were overwhelmed with the number of responses we received for this ____ position (or unpaid internship!!!). It would appear this is a sign of the troubling economy. Keep getting your work published and send us more clips further down the road. Best of luck, _______"
Elated indeed.
However, I am learning to become a young woman of leisure. For instance, I've completely caught up on my sleep. I don't think I've slept so well and so consistently at all in the past four years. I have time to prepare healthier meals, see the people I've lost touch with, socialize on "school nights," read for pleasure (I highly recommend The Magician's Assistant and Three Cups of Tea) and visit my family in beautiful Seattle spring time. Not taking classes in an odd feeling, though, when your roommates and friends are bogged down with exams and papers to write. But my part time job and internship are keeping me plenty busy. Yet when people-- and by people, I mean everyone-- continue to ask what my plans are for June until the rest of my life, I have no amazing answer. Me, of all people. I never thought I would be the kind of person to graduate and not have a scathingly brilliant fellowship or job lined up.
But alas, it has happened. A sign of the times, I suppose, as all the rejection letters state right there in the second paragraph. Perhaps it gives me more freedom, more license for creativity, more of a chance to find something I truly want to do, and not something I feel I should be doing, or what everyone expects of me.
Don't get me wrong; I am.
But the future of journalism is changing. Traditional media is no longer what it was and that means severe changes for the entry level reporting position. Consider how I spent my spring break. I applied to very nearly 30 reporter positions at newspapers all across the country. No such luck. At the very least, I was thankful for the numerous rejection letters I received. At least they had the decency to write me back. But most of them read something like this, "Dear Ms. Schmidt, we are sorry to inform you that we filled the reporter position at ______ newspaper. We were overwhelmed with the number of responses we received for this ____ position (or unpaid internship!!!). It would appear this is a sign of the troubling economy. Keep getting your work published and send us more clips further down the road. Best of luck, _______"
Elated indeed.
However, I am learning to become a young woman of leisure. For instance, I've completely caught up on my sleep. I don't think I've slept so well and so consistently at all in the past four years. I have time to prepare healthier meals, see the people I've lost touch with, socialize on "school nights," read for pleasure (I highly recommend The Magician's Assistant and Three Cups of Tea) and visit my family in beautiful Seattle spring time. Not taking classes in an odd feeling, though, when your roommates and friends are bogged down with exams and papers to write. But my part time job and internship are keeping me plenty busy. Yet when people-- and by people, I mean everyone-- continue to ask what my plans are for June until the rest of my life, I have no amazing answer. Me, of all people. I never thought I would be the kind of person to graduate and not have a scathingly brilliant fellowship or job lined up.
But alas, it has happened. A sign of the times, I suppose, as all the rejection letters state right there in the second paragraph. Perhaps it gives me more freedom, more license for creativity, more of a chance to find something I truly want to do, and not something I feel I should be doing, or what everyone expects of me.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
At the moment
Perhaps it' s a trite issue, beaten to death already by folks like Michael Moore and John Stewart, but I am disgusted by the health care system in America. How come every other country seems to have it worked out so their citizens aren't stuck without medical attention in dire situations or in debt because of one trip to the ER.
When I came across this article in the NYT, I immediately sympathized with all of the young adults willing to share their stories. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/18/nyregion/18insure.html
I am lucky. I know I am fortunate to be on my parents' insurance, at least for another couple months. So when I got sick this past Monday and had to make an unexpected trip to Urgent Care, I didn't think about it as much as one of my peers might have. Parked in the waiting chair filling out heaps of paperwork to ensure I did, in fact, have legitimate insurance, I sat, miserable, wishing the clock would speed up so I could just get home and pass out in bed. That's when a middle-aged couple slowly shuffled in.
The man walked what appeared to be his wife or girlfriend up to the front desk, arm around her shoulders, gazing lovingly into her eyes. She, however, appeared to be in immense pain, pursed her lips and squinted her eyes at the clerk.
"I'm having chest pains," she said. "Bad ones. I can't breathe."
The clerk quickly went back behind the magic double doors that seemed to let no one through in my half hour of waiting. She returned with a nurse who proceeded to take a quick look at the woman to make sure she would be able to remain standing.
"She's fine," the nurse proclaimed. "Well, she's not fine. But it's not dire." He went back behind the double doors again and left the woman, crumpled and writhing in pain, clutching her chest, alone in the waiting room with her companion.
She trudged over to the check-in desk and said she'd like to fill out the necessary paperwork. When the clerk asked her what her insurance company was, she wrinkled her face and said she didn't have insurance.
"That'll be $90 in cash then," the clerk retorted without so much as the blink of an eye.
"I don't have $90 in cash," the woman responded, helplessly.
"Then I'm afraid we can't help you," the clerk answered.
The woman, cloaked in an embroidered summer dress despite the cold February fog, fell backward, hysterical. Her partner consoled her gently, ushering her away from the front desk. The woman broke into full wailing, sobbing that her chest hurt and that she couldn't breathe. The sorrow splashed from her wounded eyes, tears dripping down her face as her escort slowly led her out.
I hate our health care system. It makes me ashamed to live in this country. This country that prides itself on equal opportunity where dreams are made possible every day. But isn't it time we scale it back a bit, so first we take care of basic human needs? Why don't we start there instead and focus on treating the sick, broadening health care access and dropping ridiculous policies like insuring only the top of the top?
I've recently become very interested in these issues and hope to continue writing about them. This summer, I got to try my hand at my first investigative series reporting for the Baker City Herald in eastern Oregon. I explored the health impacts of living in rural Oregon, the major differences from living in a bustling city, possible factors and personal stories that have shaped the Baker community.
http://tinyurl.com/c7fazn
http://www.bakercityherald.com/Local-News/Rural-healthcare-access-Certain-treatments-require-patients-to-travel
http://www.bakercityherald.com/Local-News/It-takes-a-village-to-conquer-cancer
Stay healthy. ~
When I came across this article in the NYT, I immediately sympathized with all of the young adults willing to share their stories. http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/18/nyregion/18insure.html
I am lucky. I know I am fortunate to be on my parents' insurance, at least for another couple months. So when I got sick this past Monday and had to make an unexpected trip to Urgent Care, I didn't think about it as much as one of my peers might have. Parked in the waiting chair filling out heaps of paperwork to ensure I did, in fact, have legitimate insurance, I sat, miserable, wishing the clock would speed up so I could just get home and pass out in bed. That's when a middle-aged couple slowly shuffled in.
The man walked what appeared to be his wife or girlfriend up to the front desk, arm around her shoulders, gazing lovingly into her eyes. She, however, appeared to be in immense pain, pursed her lips and squinted her eyes at the clerk.
"I'm having chest pains," she said. "Bad ones. I can't breathe."
The clerk quickly went back behind the magic double doors that seemed to let no one through in my half hour of waiting. She returned with a nurse who proceeded to take a quick look at the woman to make sure she would be able to remain standing.
"She's fine," the nurse proclaimed. "Well, she's not fine. But it's not dire." He went back behind the double doors again and left the woman, crumpled and writhing in pain, clutching her chest, alone in the waiting room with her companion.
She trudged over to the check-in desk and said she'd like to fill out the necessary paperwork. When the clerk asked her what her insurance company was, she wrinkled her face and said she didn't have insurance.
"That'll be $90 in cash then," the clerk retorted without so much as the blink of an eye.
"I don't have $90 in cash," the woman responded, helplessly.
"Then I'm afraid we can't help you," the clerk answered.
The woman, cloaked in an embroidered summer dress despite the cold February fog, fell backward, hysterical. Her partner consoled her gently, ushering her away from the front desk. The woman broke into full wailing, sobbing that her chest hurt and that she couldn't breathe. The sorrow splashed from her wounded eyes, tears dripping down her face as her escort slowly led her out.
I hate our health care system. It makes me ashamed to live in this country. This country that prides itself on equal opportunity where dreams are made possible every day. But isn't it time we scale it back a bit, so first we take care of basic human needs? Why don't we start there instead and focus on treating the sick, broadening health care access and dropping ridiculous policies like insuring only the top of the top?
I've recently become very interested in these issues and hope to continue writing about them. This summer, I got to try my hand at my first investigative series reporting for the Baker City Herald in eastern Oregon. I explored the health impacts of living in rural Oregon, the major differences from living in a bustling city, possible factors and personal stories that have shaped the Baker community.
http://tinyurl.com/c7fazn
http://www.bakercityherald.com/Local-News/Rural-healthcare-access-Certain-treatments-require-patients-to-travel
http://www.bakercityherald.com/Local-News/It-takes-a-village-to-conquer-cancer
Stay healthy. ~
Friday, February 6, 2009
The politics of politics
You have no idea what goes on behind the iron curtain. You only see the final product splashed across the front page of the newspaper in the morning. You don't hear the ethical decision making discussions that take place each time we are confronted with a life changing story, one we know is going to turn the subject's world upside down. You don't watch as we lose sleep each night contemplating and hypothesizing what could happen, what will happen, inevitably, as a direct result of the story.
You don't know the steps we take to get there. The 25 meetings, lunches, coffees, extracting, fishing, listening, digging, exacerbating, exhausting. You don't feel your own shoulders bunch up when you learn another reporter is onto you, onto the issue. You don't take the heat from everyone in your newsroom who tries relentlesslsy to convince you that yours is a trivial pursuit.
My investigative reporting class has really got me thinking.
It's the first class I've taken in awhile that I know will be directly applicable to what I want to do when I get out of school. Though, I'm not sure I have the stomach for exactly the kind of investigating we're learning about. We've heard from two amazing guest speakers so far (though I had heard them both already at SPJ conferences-- and you learn something new and brilliant every time you hear from people of this nature), and their line of work is much like an FBI agent or criminal investigator. Though as journalists our role is to seek the truth and inform the public, I can only imagine the amount of patience, long hours and dedication such an investigation requires. The Sam Adams story took the reporter nine months to craft. Nine months. That's a long time to let one story brew. But without that dossier, that thick and tattered file filled to the brim with revelaing documents, he wouldn't have nailed him.
We also discussed at length today the notion that there's no such thing as a secret.
Is this true? Can this be true? Because we all value our own secrets more than someone else's, are we always bound to tell, to trade information with someone else, a third party, in the unconscious attempt to know more? I certainly hope not. But journalistic integrity proves otherwise. No politician in the state of Oregon seems like he or she will be able to walk away untouched. With the spotlight on you, so comes the harsh realization that every reporter in the region is going to be holding you accountable for your past and present actions. When a rising political figure lets even bits and parts of his skeletons out of the closet, it's enough for any reporter to bite. To take the bait and run with it. And they always do.
Beware of your secrets. There's no such thing. A secret is always relative, and someone always tells.
There's a song I like by the Pierce's called "Secret" that goes something like this: "got a secret can you keep it/ swear this one you'll save/better lock it in your pocket/taking this one to the grave; If I show you then I know you/won't tell what I said/'cause two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.
You don't know the steps we take to get there. The 25 meetings, lunches, coffees, extracting, fishing, listening, digging, exacerbating, exhausting. You don't feel your own shoulders bunch up when you learn another reporter is onto you, onto the issue. You don't take the heat from everyone in your newsroom who tries relentlesslsy to convince you that yours is a trivial pursuit.
My investigative reporting class has really got me thinking.
It's the first class I've taken in awhile that I know will be directly applicable to what I want to do when I get out of school. Though, I'm not sure I have the stomach for exactly the kind of investigating we're learning about. We've heard from two amazing guest speakers so far (though I had heard them both already at SPJ conferences-- and you learn something new and brilliant every time you hear from people of this nature), and their line of work is much like an FBI agent or criminal investigator. Though as journalists our role is to seek the truth and inform the public, I can only imagine the amount of patience, long hours and dedication such an investigation requires. The Sam Adams story took the reporter nine months to craft. Nine months. That's a long time to let one story brew. But without that dossier, that thick and tattered file filled to the brim with revelaing documents, he wouldn't have nailed him.
We also discussed at length today the notion that there's no such thing as a secret.
Is this true? Can this be true? Because we all value our own secrets more than someone else's, are we always bound to tell, to trade information with someone else, a third party, in the unconscious attempt to know more? I certainly hope not. But journalistic integrity proves otherwise. No politician in the state of Oregon seems like he or she will be able to walk away untouched. With the spotlight on you, so comes the harsh realization that every reporter in the region is going to be holding you accountable for your past and present actions. When a rising political figure lets even bits and parts of his skeletons out of the closet, it's enough for any reporter to bite. To take the bait and run with it. And they always do.
Beware of your secrets. There's no such thing. A secret is always relative, and someone always tells.
There's a song I like by the Pierce's called "Secret" that goes something like this: "got a secret can you keep it/ swear this one you'll save/better lock it in your pocket/taking this one to the grave; If I show you then I know you/won't tell what I said/'cause two can keep a secret if one of them is dead.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Listening
What if someone you know needs help but is unwilling to accept it? What if she refuses your wisdom and advice and instead thinks she knows best? What if the one person you're most trying to reach out to doesn't want it? What do you do then?
Why is it so often the case that the one person we want cannot see us the way we wish he did? What would you have to do to change that? Risk everything? Put yourself on the line? Potentially sacrifice your ambitions? I don't think so.
What if the person you built up in your mind to be so amazing, carefree and inspiring instead turned out to be untrustworthy, chronically irresponsible and a complete liar? I'm not ready for the let down.
These are the various things I've overheard recently in my role as friend, student, mentor, sister, roommate and confidante.
It's amazing what you hear and learn when you just listen.
Why is it so often the case that the one person we want cannot see us the way we wish he did? What would you have to do to change that? Risk everything? Put yourself on the line? Potentially sacrifice your ambitions? I don't think so.
What if the person you built up in your mind to be so amazing, carefree and inspiring instead turned out to be untrustworthy, chronically irresponsible and a complete liar? I'm not ready for the let down.
These are the various things I've overheard recently in my role as friend, student, mentor, sister, roommate and confidante.
It's amazing what you hear and learn when you just listen.
Five weeks left
There are five weeks left of my college career. How did this happen? I continue to feel that this quarter has gone by both slowly and in the blink of an eye. I am excited to graduate and to face the new world of journalism that is emerging in our country today; but I am also hesitant to step out there and struggle to find a job in a profession many say is dying. I refuse to believe it. Yes, print is slowly fading into the background of this great industry, but just because the newspaper is no longer the central medium people turn to for news does not mean the world will no longer need us journalists.
Needing journalists-- as in watchdog reporting-- is the key theme of the investigative reporting course I'm taking right now. I love the class and I know I can dig until I find the answers I'm looking for, but what a different kind of journalism. Some investigative reporters spend months chasing a lead, pursuing a story and hounding their sources. You really need to have the stomach for it. Next week, we'll hear from the reporter who broke the Sam Adams scandal in Portland. What a kick.
Anyhow, little heavy for the first post, but I figured I had to get something on here.
Until next time...
Needing journalists-- as in watchdog reporting-- is the key theme of the investigative reporting course I'm taking right now. I love the class and I know I can dig until I find the answers I'm looking for, but what a different kind of journalism. Some investigative reporters spend months chasing a lead, pursuing a story and hounding their sources. You really need to have the stomach for it. Next week, we'll hear from the reporter who broke the Sam Adams scandal in Portland. What a kick.
Anyhow, little heavy for the first post, but I figured I had to get something on here.
Until next time...
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