tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6627464049841223382024-03-06T00:29:15.434-07:00Maureen's College Adventures in BostonFor my family and friends I have decided to write a blog about all my adventures in college in the wonderful city of Boston.Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.comBlogger49125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-9585717473584775552012-10-13T10:46:00.000-06:002012-10-13T10:46:05.900-06:00An extraterrestrial fear<br />
<header style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Nobile; font-size: 13px; line-height: 12px; word-wrap: break-word;"><hgroup style="box-sizing: border-box; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.5em;">Some people are afraid of heights. Some are afraid of spiders, snakes and creepy crawly things in general. Some are afraid of dying. Some are afraid of clowns.</span></hgroup></header><div class="storycontent" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; color: #444444; float: left; font-family: Nobile; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 1em 0px 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 590px; word-wrap: break-word;">
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Everyone has a phobia of some sort, but my biggest fear might surprise you.</div>
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I am not afraid of peanut butter sticking to the roof of my mouth (arachibutyrophobia). I am not afraid of long words (hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia). I am not afraid of beards (pogonophobia).</div>
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My fear is so specific there isn’t even a word for it. I’ll set the scene for you.</div>
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The year was 1995; most of America had been charmed by this particular character more than a decade before. I guess that’s why my mother decided to show her 4-year-old daughter this movie, though I think I would still be afraid no matter what age I saw it at.</div>
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This year marks the 30th anniversary of the 1982 story of a perfectly normal boy who becomes friends with an extraterrestrial.</div>
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My name is Maureen Quinlan and I am deathly and pathologically afraid of E.T.</div>
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If I even catch a glimpse of the wrinkly skinned alien, I react much like the 6-year-old Drew Barrymore reacted in the movie: with a blood-curdling scream.</div>
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I’m cringing just describing him. Everything about him scares me. Everything about the movie scarred me for life.</div>
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The bike flying into the sky, the hazmat suit guys, the mother, the red hoodie. I can’t even recall much else because I try to block it out of my memory.</div>
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I would never want to be friends with something that looked like that and wanted to eat my Reese’s Pieces. Get your own.</div>
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To make things worse, when I was 6, my family took me on an Orlando adventure.</div>
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I loved Mickey and Minnie Mouse. I met Cinderella. I rode the tea cups and filled my autograph book with signatures from the greats like Chip and Dale and Pluto.</div>
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But it was the trip to Universal Parks and Resort Orlando that validated my fear. There was a photo studio where visitors could take a picture in a classic scene from a movie. My mother, not realizing I was afraid of the gentle E.T., made me sit on the bike from the scene at the end of the movie with E.T. hidden in the basket.</div>
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I barely remember the trip because I am trying to forget the memory of being so close to my least favorite creature.</div>
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My next encounter was many years later. It was Halloween. I was in high school. I was dressed like Wilma Flintstone. I enjoyed seeing everyone dressed as bees, nerds and princesses.</div>
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Then one boy was dressed in an all white paint suit. As we went around the room telling others what we were dressed as, the boy pulled out a stuffed animal of E.T. small enough to fit in a side pocket on the paint suit.</div>
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He was dressed as one of the government scientists in the hazmat suits. I squirmed in my seat and waited for him to put the toy back in his pocket.</div>
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The stuffed animal was harmless, but it sure as hell scared me. As irrational or silly as my fear is, I don’t see myself conquering it anytime soon. I’m not about to sit down and watch the movie to see if I’m still afraid. I’m not about to try and see what is so cute and innocent and harmless about E.T.</div>
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If Universal Pictures decides to release the classic tale of a friendly alien invading earth in 3D, you can guarantee I will not be anywhere within a 10-mile radius of a movie theater until it goes out of theaters again.</div>
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I know it was nominated for Best Picture. I know it has one of the best movie scores of all time. I know it is one of Steven Spielberg’s most legendary films. I know it started Drew Barrymore’s career. I know it made Reese’s Pieces a bigger seller than M&Ms that year. But you can bet I will never want E.T. to phone my home.</div>
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Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-10327211044461283052012-10-13T10:44:00.004-06:002012-10-13T10:44:49.766-06:00My 90s were all that<br />
<header style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; font-family: Nobile; font-size: 13px; line-height: 12px; word-wrap: break-word;"><hgroup style="box-sizing: border-box; word-wrap: break-word;"><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 1.5em;">We all look back on our childhoods with rose-colored glasses, with 20/20 hindsight and nostalgic viewfinders. But there was something very special and unique about being a kid in the 1990s and early 2000s. Excuse me while I reminisce for the next 600 words.</span></hgroup></header><div class="storycontent" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; clear: both; color: #444444; float: left; font-family: Nobile; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.5em; margin: 1em 0px 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline; width: 590px; word-wrap: break-word;">
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While not an especially memorable decade current events-wise for me personally, there is so much I will cherish about my formative years. I was born in late 1991, giving me optimum time to enjoy 1992-2006 before I was ruined in high school.</div>
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Our generation is the first to not know what it is like to grow up without the Internet. We are the last who had to actually wait until middle or high school to get cell phones.</div>
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The style, the fads, the toys and the TV shows, shaped who I am today. I honestly don’t know who I would be without my teen idols, favorite characters and the trinkets of my past.</div>
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Angelica taught me how to be a spoiled only-child. Tommy taught me how to be a good leader. Chuckie taught me it is ok to be afraid sometimes. Phil and Lil taught me life is messy, but that’s all the fun.</div>
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Lizzie McGuire taught me that every girl feels self-conscious. Gordo taught me that every girl needs a guy best friend who falls in love with her. (I’m still working on that one.) Miranda taught me that you are replaceable. Do we even know what happened to her in those last few episodes?</div>
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“All That” taught me to appreciate the humor of sketch comedy, making “Saturday Night Live” even more enjoyable. It also showed me that true talent goes on to do great things, i.e. Kenan Thompson and Amanda Bynes. (Let’s just pretend Amanda never got a driver’s license.)</div>
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Mary-Kate and Ashley taught me how to solve a mystery in 30 minutes, throw the perfect sleepover and travel the world while getting into trouble.</div>
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Skip-Its taught me how to hop on one foot really well. Pokemon taught me a little Asian culture. Polly Pocket taught me to appreciate small toys before she got stuck up your nose. Lip Smackers taught me that every beauty product should come in 100 flavors.</div>
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Lindsay Lohan taught me so much before she fell off the deep end. She taught me that it is possible for an American to sort of pull off an English accent. She taught me that being a Mean Girl is actually really bad. She also taught me that I should never ever dye my hair blonde.</div>
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Pixar movies taught me to expect a lot of my animated movie characters. Disney princesses taught me to grow my hair long, hang out in nature and find my one true love. (Still working on that one too, since I live in a city and am not the daughter of a king.)</div>
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AIM taught me the art of flirty conversation not conducted face to face. It taught me how to socialize on the computer before “social media” was even a phrase. It taught me the importance of a username and an away message.</div>
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The Spice Girls taught me that if someone wants to be my lover, he’s “gotta get with my friends.” Britney Spears taught me choreographed dances and how to lip sync. N’Sync and the Backstreet Boys taught me to appreciate a good boy band, making my love for One Direction bigger than it probably should be.</div>
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Lisa Frank taught me that it’s all in the accessories, the colors and design. She also taught me that you can’t go wrong with a folder covered in purple and pink tigers.</div>
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Junie B. Jones and Captain Underpants taught me how to have a sense of humor. They taught me how to read and how to fall into a fictional world.</div>
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Every picture of my childhood clothing choices has taught me that I will probably always regret the style of the past. But I was looking fantastic in my Little Mermaid sweatshirt, bandana and Jellies at the time.</div>
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Looking back, my childhood was pretty happy. I certainly can’t complain that I got to grow up in one of the best decades for kids. Nickelodeon, Disney Channel, 90s pop music and the primitive days of slow computers and no cell phones gave me more than any future generation will have the privilege of knowing.</div>
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Above all, these things taught me how to love life.</div>
</div>
Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-44202566148241105562012-09-25T17:10:00.003-06:002012-09-25T17:10:40.016-06:00Hearing voices on your TV
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When people ask me what my hobbies are or what I like to do
besides write and go to school, I often want to lie. Should I say I read, hike,
cook and hang out with friends? Those aren’t complete lies, but what I should
really say is that there is nothing I prefer more than watching TV. </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’m
not just talking about flipping through the channels catching reruns of “Grey’s
Anatomy” or HBO’s movie of the month. I mean marathon, never-miss-an-episode,
obsessed television watching. </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>There
are so many wonderful things about watching TV, but there is one very obvious
and somewhat painful chore that comes with turning on the boob tube:
commercials. </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Everyone
endures them, networks need them, and once a year we glorify them in between
plays of football. As inevitable as they are, and as clever as some can be,
there is nothing that bothers me more about commercials than the celebrity
voice over. </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It
is so unnerving when I hear Tim Allen trying to sell me a Chevy or Julia
Roberts pitching Nationwide Insurance. </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I
guess the idea is that if we hear a celebrity talking about it, we must assume
they use it and we should too. </div>
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Am I going to buy a Mercedes just
because the oh-so dapper voice of Mad Men’s Don Draper says I should? Probably
not. Am I going to run to the store to buy all 100 flavors of Yoplait yogurt
because Lisa Kudrow, better known as quirky friend Phoebe, can deliver the
just-as quirky lines about a dairy product? I hope not. </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What
gets me the most is that celebrities actually agree to it. Don’t they make enough
money on my beloved TV or the silver screen? Doesn’t Jeff Bridges have the
Academy Awards on his mantel to give him enough notoriety so he doesn’t also
have to be known as the voice of those cheesy Hyundai commercials? </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And
what do those companies offer in order for a celeb to agree to be their
voice-over man or woman. Sure Jon Hamm got one of those Mercedes, but he
probably could have bought one with his $250,000 an episode salary. And does
Lisa Kudrow get a lifetime supply of yogurt? Again, I really hope not. </div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To
me the most tragic of these pitchmen are two of my favorite TV funnymen. The
handsome and talented John Krasinski babbles on about Esurance, an online
insurance company. If a gecko can’t sell me “15-minute or less” insurance, I
don’t think Jim Halper can sell me online insurance. </div>
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And the perfect comically timed
Jason Sudeikis talks about how sizzling and exciting Applebee’s is. The last
time I went to Applebee’s there was nothing sizzling or exciting about it. </div>
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Some friends who travelled to
Europe for dialogue this summer have told me that celebrity commercials are
even more despicable over there than they are here. With one look at Uma
Thurman dressed as a hooker on a couch talking seductively about Schweppes
soda, I understood what they meant. (The commercial is worth a YouTube view for
a laugh). </div>
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In our celebrity-obsessed culture
(me included), it’s logical to have the faces and voices of our adored stars
gracing not just the shows and movies we love, but also the ads. </div>
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I love seeing Emma Stone put on
lipstick and Drew Barrymore swipe eye shadow across her lids. I love watching
Sofia Vergara dance around looking for Pepsi and Ty Burrell talk to oranges. I
just wish I didn’t. </div>
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Take me back to Mr. Moviefone, the
deity-esque voice of movie trailers, or the good old days of jingles. Sure I’ll
take another dollop of Daisy. </div>
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I miss not recognizing the voices
of my commercials and taking in the meaning of consumerism instead of the
direction of the next celeb’s career. </div>
Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-164159028830070462012-08-07T19:33:00.004-06:002012-08-07T19:33:42.855-06:00Red, white, blue and gold<br />
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The Olympics. Even just the word conjures the sound of the
Olympic theme song incessantly played by NBC at every televised transition, the
taste of victory and the sight of tremendous athletes showcasing their
practiced craft.</div>
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The
event promotes feelings of triumph and patriotism, encourages healthy
competition, and allows us to join the whole world in watching a spectacle.
Because watching athletes fight for the gold can inspire us to work a little
harder, dream a little bigger and do a little better. </div>
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Even
the biggest non-sports fans bleed a little red, white and blue in hopes that
American athletes will bring home the gold. </div>
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I
like the Olympics because of all the great emotional, tense and exciting
moments that come with the nature of being American in the midst of a world
competition. </div>
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Take
for instance the Michael Phelps Ryan Lochte face-off. Who didn’t love watching
the man-fish Phelps become the most decorated Olympian of all time? While he
slides effortlessly into the end of his Olympic legacy, his teammate, the very
confident “this is my year” Lochte, is taking the limelight. Their first event
was almost a non-event except for the fact that Phelps had finally missed the
medal podium. But watching their team work in the relays provides the drama of
unspoken rivals working together. </div>
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And Missy Franklin, from my native
Colorado, gives the Olympics that fresh-faced fervor we miss when watching two,
three and four-time Olympians take to the court, pool, field, etc. She is
youthful and lively and purely excited to be in London. She does not show an
air of entitlement to the seven gold medals for which she is in contention. She
wants to earn every stroke she takes and every smile she shows.</div>
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For
every exhilarating win there is always an equally heartbreaking moment, and
sometimes on the very same team. </div>
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As the women’s gymnastics team
performed for the qualifying rounds of the team finals which would also decide
the two contenders from each country who would compete in the all-around, two
girls relished in the moment of making the very tough cut while the strongest
competitor and reigning world champion, Jordyn Weiber, saw her Olympic dreams
crushed before her eyes. </div>
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The
men’s gymnastics team entered the finals as the top ranked team. A few crashes
and missed landings later, the team finished fifth. They were supposed to be
contenders for the gold. </div>
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But
don’t we expect all our athletes to win the gold? I know I do. Why else would
you be at the Olympics? </div>
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Maybe
it is the American spirit that demands not just the greatness it takes to make
it to the games and take part, but to dominate and place first. Who wants to
watch a medal ceremony where an athlete isn’t mumbling the words to “The Star
Spangled Banner?” </div>
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It is a high order to ask our athletes
to win gold every time. But the commercials, endorsements and never-ending
profiles of the athletes trick us into thinking that only gold means you
succeeded. </div>
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For most of these contenders they
have devoted their lives to these sports. Starting from when they could walk,
run or jump to the time it meant missing major life moments for that extra
training session. </div>
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The only thing I’ve ever devoted
that much time to is school or maybe watching TV. As a girl who barely knows
the difference between a free throw and a freestyle stroke, I’ve come to expect
that Americans sweep the events, (except maybe table tennis.) </div>
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But that’s why I love the Olympics.
I love the way the country stands behind the 531 men and women competing. I
love the pageantry of the ceremonies. I love the triumph and heartbreak. I love
the hype. I love the non-stop coverage. I love those sappy profiles that tug at
my heartstrings. What do you mean he came from a broken home and had to play
badminton to save his life? I’m sold. I can’t help but root for these “heroes.”
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Maybe I’m being brainwashed by the
International Olympic Committee or the awful NBC commentators, or maybe I’m
just indulging in an American pastime I only get the chance to do every two
years. Whatever you call it, I call it loving every last minute of the Olympics.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-49653545167556160232012-07-09T10:43:00.005-06:002012-07-09T10:43:50.396-06:00Not the end, but a new beginning<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white;">On January 1, 2012, I felt like I was looking into a deep
crevasse at the top of the cliff knowing I would have to scale the wall and
make it to the bottom.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Six months, 40 hours a week,
winter, spring and a little bit of summer. Stories, odd jobs and a learning
experience lay ahead of me like that giant crevasse. It was intimidating and
scary, but not impossible. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Now that I am at the bottom of the
cliff, it doesn’t look so big. In fact, six months seems insignificant. A blip
in the radar. A very small amount of time in the span of a lifetime. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
But I am proud of what I
accomplished in the past six months. I embarked on a journey of trying
something completely new. My first week of work I read a line in a book I was
reading that resonated with the things I was going through. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Just because you haven’t done
something, doesn’t mean you can’t.” Just because I’d never worked 40 hours a
week at a big newspaper with so many bosses and responsibilities didn’t mean I
couldn’t do it. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Living up to the expectations
others have for your success is the best motivator. I proved to myself that
taking risks and leaping off the cliff with fear and faith is really the best
thing I could ever do. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I wasn’t sure how to approach my
co-op at Boston Globe South except with a positive attitude and an appetite for
learning. What I got in return because of that outlook was so much more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
In the beginning, I approached each
day as a stepping-stone to the big things that would come next. It worked. I was
prepared and the perfect amount of overwhelmed at every new project thrown my
way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I worked my ass off. I performed
every assignment to my best ability. I guess it was the overachiever in me that
wanted to go above and beyond what was asked of me. I felt a need to prove that
hiring a shy, somewhat inexperienced, red head from Colorado was not a mistake.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I wanted to prove that I was here
to learn and do the very best job that I could. I think my bosses were pleased
with how I took the job and made it my own by taking on extra projects and
always helping out. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It was bittersweet to leave. I will
miss the people I worked with and learning something new everyday (and making
money). But I am grateful to be a college student again with papers and
homework on the mind. But mostly I like having my free time back to myself. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I haven’t fully transitioned back
to class. I can only take about five minutes of homework at a time before I
want to tear my hair out, but I will get there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Looking up at that cliff, I see the
old me: a girl scared of her own shadow and achievements. At the bottom I see a
girl poised at a new starting line with a newfound confidence and assuredness
in herself. I see challenges ahead of me, but I also see all the challenges I
happily hurdled along that cliff wall. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
If I can do that, I can do
anything. (I think.) </div>
<!--EndFragment-->Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-8774365598748505102012-06-19T15:16:00.000-06:002012-06-19T15:16:11.799-06:00Making it count<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background-color: white;">I officially have one week left in co-op. I remember
finishing my first week and thinking, “One week down, 25 to go.” Well it is
crazy to think now, “25 down, one to go.” I think this last week is all about
making it count.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I will do a full reflection on my co-op when I have some
more time to really think and write about it. For now, it’s about tying up
loose ends and making my mark before my time at Globe South comes to a close. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The thing about being an intern is that there is a sense of
temporariness. There is a timeline, an expiration date, an expectation of a
last day on this job. That is what is great about it. I had to make every
moment spent in this office count. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tried to absorb the greatness that oozes from the minds in
the newsroom. I tried to take every mistake in stride and learn from it. I
tried to see my value in every task, no matter how menial. If I wasn’t making
it count, I would have been wasting my time. And those six months are not ones
I’m getting back. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don’t want to lose focus in the last week from how hard I’ve
worked in the past 25 weeks. It’s a bit like the feeling kids get that last
week before summer vacation. “It doesn’t matter anyway; we’ll be done in a
week.” But I don’t want to feel that. I want to make every second worth my
time. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I want to end this job on a high note of accomplishment and
satisfaction of achievement. I think I’m headed in the right direction, but I
can’t give up the determination I started with. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The hardest part will be the goodbyes. I’ve never enjoyed
goodbyes. I’m terrible at them and feel wholly uncomfortable at the thought of “This
is it.” I think it’s because change is an uncomfortable concept. I know that
change will always be cycling through my life, but it that is the one thing I
will never get used to. (Probably because it is always changing. A catch-22 if
you ask me.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, I know that change is good. It means new steps and
new doors. It means a new path to self-discovery. It means I’m doing this thing
called “growing up” ok. I’m not failing at becoming a fully functional human
being. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So in the next week, I want to finish strong with my head
held high with pride in myself for coming this far and a little fear of what
comes next and experience to draw upon. I want to make it count. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-53157787160845701532012-05-20T13:44:00.002-06:002012-05-20T13:44:29.140-06:00Forever young<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s been awhile since I’ve last blogged, but I like to
think I was spending the time being young.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As
a kid, all I wanted was to be grown up, and now that I’m growing up all I want
is to be a kid again. But for once, I’m going to start appreciating the
youthfulness that I have, not because I have a youthful spirit or a resilience
to grow old, but simply because I was born 20 years ago. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
recently read a blog about why being in your 20s is awesome. It pointed out
that sometimes as a twentysomething, we can resent the crappy apartments and
crazy schedules and sheer unpredictability of life. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
But that we often take the really
good things for granted. Things like feeling my smooth and healthy skin that
has seen its fair share of sunburns and laugh lines, but nothing compared to a
lifetime’s worth. Things like being able to make plans in a second and change
your mind 18 times a day. Things that make being young so fun and envied.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It is time I start seeing all the
good in being 20 heading into this capricious decade of life. The world is
right in front of my peers and me. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Our dreams fill our minds and days
to drive us to success and satisfaction. It is such an exciting time in life to
hear about where my friends will be studying: Mexico, Italy, Argentina. It is
encouraging to hear what people want to become one day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
They are no longer wisps of dreams
in the clouds. They are realities. They are slowly and surely with hard work
and perspiration coming to fruition. It is slowly becoming a reality that we
are becoming adults. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
But I think as we get jobs and
begin the adventure of living on our own, we will cling to all the good things
about being a kid and let go with grace of a happy childhood. That, I believe,
is what defines being 20. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Much like an Irish Blessing, Bob
Dylan said it best. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
May God bless and
keep you always<br />
May your wishes all come true<br />
May you always do for others<br />
And let others do for you<br />
May you build a ladder to the stars<br />
And climb on every rung<br />
May you stay forever young</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It is all about living life to
fullest on every rung of that ladder that makes being 20 so important. And I
hope I never forget that. </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<!--EndFragment-->Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-7650114113990199692012-04-21T20:25:00.002-06:002012-04-21T20:25:19.797-06:00Lonely Hearts<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">As a college student, missing those back home is only natural. Usually two months can go by without seeing those from our past who’ve influenced so much who we’ve become. The ones who know us better than we know ourselves. The ones who love us, bad habits and all. Two months may seem like an eternity, especially to a new(ish) college student who has never spent more than two weeks away from home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But this year, I faced a challenge I saw coming but knew would be hard regardless of how I handled it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Missing the ones you love is one of the most uncomfortable feelings in the world. Missing people doesn’t necessarily mean you are unhappy. In fact, for me, I am quite happy living out my dream. It is just a feeling I have to adjust to living with. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Missing someone is hard to describe. I’ve never really had to miss anyone before. I always knew it wouldn’t be long before I saw them again. So dealing with this new emotion was like trying to navigate a new territory in the dark. Not impossible, but unpredictable and a little frightening. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I had a teacher who had to describe the different levels of love to us for a religion class in high school. She said when you reach the level of true love, it is not “absence makes the heart grow fonder,” but rather “absence makes the heart ache.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>What she meant was that you know love someone when you feel a certain pain when that person is gone. And while I may not be talking about the same kind of love she was talking about, I do know that I really love the people I am missing because I feel that certain kind of pain. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Missing someone isn’t just wishing they were with you when you are doing something or thinking you need to tell them about something crazy that happened when you talk to them next. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>No, that feeling of missing someone hits you like a ton of bricks when you are riding the bus, or see a mother and her child smiling in the springtime sunshine or watching a father and son bonding over a baseball game or laughing about something you know that someone would find funny too. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Missing loved ones makes you realize how empty you feel without them in your daily life. Their love fills you like the aroma of freshly baked cookies fills a kitchen. You don’t really notice when it’s not there until you smell it (or feel it) again. And then you realize how truly sweet it makes your life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Missing someone can cause their name to pop into your head when your mind wanders without control. “Mom.” “Dad.” “Jenna.” “Chelsea.” “Katie.” “Friends from home.” “Bridie and Bailey.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Missing someone is counting down the days until you see them again and looking forward to doing absolutely nothing except basking in the glow of their love. </div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-56016697735667911052012-04-01T13:21:00.000-06:002012-04-01T13:21:48.120-06:00Halfway done and halfway there<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">This week officially marks the halfway point of my co-op. It has been three months and I have three months left. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">It’s hard to believe it was only three months ago I was first walking through the Globe’s doors with a fresh-faced ambition to do great things and to prove myself. I think I’m certainly on my way. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>One of the numerous tips I heard before going on co-op was to set goals for myself. And while I had some tangible goals, most of my goals were emotional or performance based. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>My greatest fear was that I was going to hate my job. But I’m happy to report, that I don’t hate it. In fact I really like my job. It is not a job anyone could do for the rest of her life, but it is a job that is satisfying, challenging and different enough for six months.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Every time I can do a job well done on a project for my boss, I feel proud that I’ve worked hard enough to please the man upstairs. I am satisfied when I help a caller. I feel happy when I write a story that makes the people I’m writing about excited. And when I have the right answer I feel empowered to work harder. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The challenges have been daily hurdles and behemoth sized monsters trying to get in the way of my success. The biggest challenge is probably fighting the boredom. Some days are just very slow with not much to do, and finding a productive and seemingly worthwhile way to spend that time can be difficult. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Writing, surprisingly, has been my most frustrating challenge. Since I’m not writing everyday, or huge in-depth projects like I did for my journalism classes, my writing skills are slacking. I don’t feel I have a command of words like I used to. I think the fact that the stakes are a lot higher doesn’t help either. I am trying to improve and not get down on myself when editors take a hatchet to my stories. I’m trying to stay positive so I can take away something constructive rather than the feeling that I can’t do this. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And now to mention the monsters. I have taken the Globe company car out to a few assignments here and there to cover various stories. The first Friday in March I took a Globe car out to a high school girls’ basketball game. As I was coming back at 9:30, the car stalled on the very busy freeway with nowhere to pull over. I pulled over in the far right lane as far as I could, but I was still blocking traffic. I called 911 who sent a tow truck who took me back to the Globe, but then demanded $100. The security office who was supposed to take care of it started yelling at me to find the money, but it was now ten o’clock on a Friday night and none of my bosses were there. Eventually, the head security officer paid the fee from an emergency fund and they sent me home in a cab. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The incident shook me up pretty good, but it also proved to me that I could handle a problem like an adult. Don’t get me wrong, I still cried, but not until the security office yelled at me, and I tried calling my parents, who were out of cell phone range in Nebraska. It was all on me to figure out what to do and how to solve the problem. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The next weekend my phone broke and caused a whole new set of problems. So back to a flip phone I went and onward I marched taking care of my upper middle class, white working girl problems. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">So for the next three months, I want to tackle my problems with the same gumption I’ve been showing. I want to be the strong independent person I know I can be. I don’t really have any other options. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">So I’m halfway done, but I’m also halfway there to gaining everything I can from this experience and learning a little more about myself. </div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-31827966232907377822012-02-25T18:33:00.000-07:002012-02-25T18:33:59.027-07:00Is this real life?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">Last weekend I had the time of my life in New York City and all I could think was, “Is this real life?” Needless to say, I was feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> My best friend from college, Chelsea, is currently on co-op in New York City working for a fashion public relations firm and living her dream. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> She lives in Brooklyn just blocks from the Brooklyn Bridge, which we walked across, works in SoHo and attended New York Fashion Week. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I’ve been to New York City twice before this trip, but this time felt different. The first trip was with my parents and best friends. We were the ultimate tourists. The second trip was a short look at colleges. But this time I was with someone who knows the city fairly well. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Chelsea knew how to navigate the confusing subway system and where to take me. But it felt very strange walking a huge, gigantic city all by ourselves without our parents. It felt exhilarating. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Before I even left for the city, I knew I wanted to see a Broadway show. Musicals are my guilty pleasure and I knew I couldn’t go to the one place in the world where all the best shows live and thrive and not go inside a theater. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> So Chelsea and I decided we would enter the Broadway lottery, a wonderful system that most shows participate in, where anyone who wants to see a show puts their name into a big barrel two hours before performance time. Then names are drawn and highly discounted tickets are sold to the winners. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I thought we would have to enter for all three shows that weekend and still not win. But the Broadway gods were looking down on us. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> We arrived at the Eugene O’Neill Theater on 49<sup>th</sup> Street and Times Square at 11:15 a.m. to enter for the 2 p.m. matinee show. We stood in line, chatted with some locals and at 11:30 put our names on two little cards. We kissed the cards for good luck and added them to a pile of probably 300 others. There were 22 tickets up for grabs, and you can enter your name for 1 or 2 tickets. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Name after name was called. All the front row tickets went, but the box seats with obstructed view were still left. Then all of a sudden the name “Chelsea Addy” was called out. Chelsea and I both screamed and jumped up and down. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> We had won tickets to “Book of Mormon” the Tony award winner of best musical, written by Colorado natives Matt Stone and Trey Parker, the creators of South Park, and a show that is sold out until it closes next year. The best part, they only cost $32 each, originally $155. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> It was a dream come true for a Broadway nerd like me and an excitement junkie like Chelsea. I hope to never let go of the euphoria I felt the moment we won. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> The show lived up to and exceeded all my expectations. The singing, dancing, acting, jokes and humor were spot on. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> The weekend was also filled with great eating, sight seeing and lots of picture taking, but nothing beat that Saturday afternoon. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> The rest of the weekend Chelsea and I took turns saying, “I still can’t believe we won.” I am sure I had a smile on my face from Friday night when I first saw the city lights to Monday afternoon when I left. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> So is this real life? I’m happy to admit that it was and is. </div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNszRsNpG_5G0qykLFFEQW2cz7ByltRIvsh5vC8zzi5b_pZ1ma3kzc3NuUSHScKZqpkzyG19DhLhMMkYluvuN5taZE_0RX-iW8U9YMqOHzKPg1_YHDG0gucWPGTP09uE1L0jXI6Drv10/s1600/DSCN1734.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTNszRsNpG_5G0qykLFFEQW2cz7ByltRIvsh5vC8zzi5b_pZ1ma3kzc3NuUSHScKZqpkzyG19DhLhMMkYluvuN5taZE_0RX-iW8U9YMqOHzKPg1_YHDG0gucWPGTP09uE1L0jXI6Drv10/s200/DSCN1734.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The theater for "Book of Mormon" </td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEios9DZSXeQvpdE5Lyo8sOHVBbBMs9BgklvPLon1GpxTUEtZX1ERCFXT1T7WYFN3Yzu5Va8epEseh0Ohsq-0H_uPtgcCLl42G_AKWVsSdicxwf8QKEO7rxXupZsG_ue1b6hENI2mJmJ9eI/s1600/DSCN1747.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEios9DZSXeQvpdE5Lyo8sOHVBbBMs9BgklvPLon1GpxTUEtZX1ERCFXT1T7WYFN3Yzu5Va8epEseh0Ohsq-0H_uPtgcCLl42G_AKWVsSdicxwf8QKEO7rxXupZsG_ue1b6hENI2mJmJ9eI/s200/DSCN1747.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My seat next to the stage</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-lRoznlyCfdEngui1Bgmi_UkpjrvGnSuT6bk6TYWqdyynyZWMUbYJX1S5gKO5wikOjShyasvsmvpp2Rl4qHKn1V4x8Y34w-F-OSQMBKTKFzUjhhxY6PNGm0KWRXIvdTs4xkE62nMAtV4/s1600/DSCN1772.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-lRoznlyCfdEngui1Bgmi_UkpjrvGnSuT6bk6TYWqdyynyZWMUbYJX1S5gKO5wikOjShyasvsmvpp2Rl4qHKn1V4x8Y34w-F-OSQMBKTKFzUjhhxY6PNGm0KWRXIvdTs4xkE62nMAtV4/s200/DSCN1772.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Chelsea and I enjoying breakfast at Tiffany's</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
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</div><!--EndFragment-->Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-25874570754200031512012-02-11T07:23:00.003-07:002012-02-11T07:27:39.460-07:00What I've learned so farI have been on co-op for six weeks now. Looking at the calendar, I can’t believe it’s already been six weeks, on the other hand, that means I have 20 weeks to go. Here’s to hoping it will fly by.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Anyway, I’ve learned a lot in the past six weeks both in and out of the office. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> My day to day duties are pretty light and only take up about half my day sometimes, so I have a lot of extra time to myself. Of course I’ve fallen prey to the temptation of Twitter and my newest obsession, Pinterest, a social networking site that allows you to “pin” pictures to a virtual board. I’ve never been on Facebook; that is the one thing I won’t allow myself to do. So, you might ask, how do I fill an 8 hour day with only 4-5 hours of actual work? </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I read. I read the newspaper, I read Boston.com and I read stories I find on Twitter. I see this as a way to learn. When I leave at the end of the day, my thoughts are swirling around in my head in the prose of a very well-written journalist. I’ve found that reading is going to make me a better writer. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Reading is the foundation we build all other learning on, especially writing. If we couldn’t read, we certainly wouldn’t know what we were writing. Reading and translating a foreign language is always easier than trying to speak it or write it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> So I’m going back to basics at my job. I’m reading. I’m reading everything from news to business to arts and entertainment. And while the comics are probably still my favorite part of the newspaper, I’ve found a new appreciation for the briefs and articles that stain my fingers with newsprint every day. </div><div class="MsoNormal">I look forward to the hour I reserve for myself at the end of everyday where I can spread The Globe across my desk and read the day’s top headlines. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> In addition to my reading of the newspaper aiding my education as a young journalist, the paper has made me a more educated individual. I think back to high school and even middle school when writing an essay was painful because I could always come up with a claim, but finding the evidence to back it up was the true challenge. Nowadays, I can back up most conversations I have with something I read in The Globe.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> The Globe is an excellent newspaper. I’m not just saying that because I work for them. It is a well run business with many functioning parts. They employ over 1,000 people from the cafeteria workers to the return room guys who sort papers to the payroll people to the reporters. It is a well-oiled machine as I see it from my perspective at the bottom. A machine I am proud to be a part of it, even if my role is small. </div><div class="MsoNormal">So inside the office, I’m learning what it means to work 40 hours a week, be a part of a true business environment and to sharpen my skills as a journalist if not just a well-informed member of society. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Outside of the office, I’m learning what it means to be an independent adult. Sort of. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I am still a college student, highly dependent on my parents financially and emotionally. But in the past month, I’ve come to appreciate myself. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> My time in college has been a bit like a revolving door of chaos that just keeps going around and around. I was stuck in the doors never able to stop outside and breathe in the fresh air, or get into the building and begin what I set out to do. It was always something: friend drama, a difficult assignment, housing problems, more friend drama. I was losing myself, I could feel it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> But my best friend here moved to New York City for co-op, my roommate drifted away, my best friend from home is over 3,000 miles away and my Boston friends are the kinds of friends you eat lunch with, not really the kind of friends I want to burden with invitations. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I was worried coming back in January that I would be a solitary homebody. And, in fact, I am. But what I’ve always known deep down is that I’m happy about it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I like being alone. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy company. I like eating with friends at lunch and seeing some friends on the weekends, but I don’t mind being alone. I am grateful for this attribute because I think a lot of people find loneliness debilitating. I find it liberating. Just because I’m alone, doesn’t mean I’m lonely. I also don’t feel alone on a college campus and with constant connection with my parents and best friends through email, Skype, calls and texts. I’m an introvert and I certainly have a comfort zone I don’t like leaving. But I’m learning to appreciate the nights I can do whatever I want without anyone judging me or waiting on me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I’m learning to live my life as I want to. I’m slowly learning to be myself again. </div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-57391336312950727972012-01-07T12:35:00.000-07:002012-01-07T12:35:15.941-07:00Happy 2012!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">It is a new year, and the weight loss ads are plaguing our televisions and resolutions are being kept and broken. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> My resolution this year is to be more open. Open to new experiences, people and ideas. My resolution is to be braver. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I have started my co-op job. For the past year and a half, I have talked about this program my school offers, but now I can officially talk about it with authority. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> The whole process of applying and interviewing for jobs began in mid-October. I was offered the job I took the day before Thanksgiving. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I am now working at The Boston Globe in the South Regional office. I work at the Globe headquarters in South Boston. I ride the bus 40 minutes from the T station by my dorm to the T station four blocks from the Globe building. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I started on Tuesday. My job involves putting stories that the South correspondents write onto the Yourtown sites that we manage. I am learning a little HTML and a web management system, all good things to know for the future of journalism.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I also deliver papers around the newsroom to different heads of department. This is my favorite thing to do because I get to be in a busy newsroom where reporters are on the phone with sources, discussing the news and sorting out problems with editors. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The first day I went around, everyone I met was friendly and welcoming and made me feel good to be working in such a reputable place. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I also put news briefs into the system for different editors to look at. I will start writing stories soon. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">So far, it has been a great experience at the Globe. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">But we will see where the next six months take me. That is why my resolutions are being open and braver. I want to seize every opportunity that comes my way and make the most of this incredible chance. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I miss home like crazy. I miss the Colorado air and mountains. I miss waking up to my dogs’ wagging tails. I miss eating dinner with my parents every night. I miss my friends’ banter and spontaneity. And it will be at least six months before I will get to see these things again. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">So that is why I want to be braver. I want to find the silver lining to missing all that is familiar to me. I have been given a chance to do something with my life, so I better take it. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I want to feel life with all that I have. I want to live to the absolute brim of happiness and success, which doesn’t come without a little failure and loneliness. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I can’t wait to see what 2012 brings me. And I wish all of you the best year of fun and adventure. May we be partners in experiencing life to the most this year.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;"><br />
</div><!--EndFragment-->Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-29112183046163283692011-12-20T15:45:00.000-07:002011-12-20T15:45:05.179-07:00My Social Network<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]> <style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">As a member of Gen-Y I am a proud user and advocator of Facebook, Twitter and the like. But recently, I have questioned where the future of social networking and my personal use of these tools are headed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> I never had a Myspace, I was a late Facebooker, and now I am an avid Tweeter. But as all things in this world, social networking has evolved. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> My Facebook journey began as a natural curiosity, soon became a terrible obsession and as of late has been a gigantic waste of time. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I was a junior in high school when I first discovered the fun of putting silly statuses and looking at pictures online. I still appreciate the picture aspect of Facebook. Facebook was a way to stay in touch with friends after we spent six hours of the day together at school. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">As I went to college I thought Facebook would be a good way to stay in touch with others. It was a great way to see what my family members were up to, how my fellow high school classmates were fairing in college and who was up to what. But the worst part, is that even though these people willingly told me they had joined a sorority, got an A on an exam or went on vacation, they weren’t telling me specifically. They were telling cyberspace and anyone who happened upon that slice of information. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I still think of Facebook as my way to keep tabs on people I don’t even want to talk to anymore. Let’s go back to good old email. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I just finished a teen fiction novel called “The Future of Us.” This story revolves around two high schoolers in 1996 who by some supernatural mistake can see their Facebook profiles 15 years in the future. They can see who they marry, where they live in the future and their children. The concept is one I’ve thought about a lot. It would be incredibly tempting to look into the future to see if I was happy and successful. But the fun of life is that it is so unexpected. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I also think Facebook is being phased out. The people I really care about rarely post anything anymore. I never post anything either, as you can tell by my poor upkeep of this blog this semester. It’s not that I’m so busy I can’t put up a post now and then. It’s that the audience I want to know things about my life will know because I will tell them in person. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Twitter is a much more intimate and small venue for personal postings. Twitter allows me to be clever with what I tweet and hashtag. Twitter is more fun than Facebook and not nearly as overwhelming. But I suspect that just as Myspace, AIM and Facebook, Twitter will find its place in social networking history one day. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Now the question is what will I do to fill my time that I spent on Facebook? Perhaps I’ll study more, exercise more or read more books. It’s probably better that way anyway. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! </div><!--EndFragment-->Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-49559466460523608892011-11-17T15:59:00.000-07:002011-11-17T15:59:15.158-07:00Twilight vs. Harry Potter<div class="" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"> </div><br />
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<div class="MsoNormal">With the premiere of the first part of the last Twilight movie upon us much too quickly, I’ve had a lot of people ask me if I’m a fan. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I think it’s safe to assume that everyone who reads my blog now knows what a huge Potterhead I am. I love Harry Potter and will always be a dedicated fan to this series. I just can’t convert for Twilight. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Don’t get me wrong; there is nothing inherently wrong with the Twilight series fans. These girls (I can’t think of a single guy I’ve met who is a Twi-hard) fell in love with a story about endless love, devotion, jealousy and a dash of the supernatural. Actually make that a ton of supernatural. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I tried to read the books, made it through two successfully, and fell into the trap. I am Team Jacob, if you must know; however, the writing appalled me, the character of Bella was so angsty, I wanted to throw up, and the mix of supernatural and real world seemed asinine to me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I admire the dedicated fans who love the story inside and out. And almost every girl I’ve met who loves Twilight as much as I love Harry Potter is Team Edward, which might I remind you, Robert Pattinson was originally Team Potter.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I have no room to criticize when I dress up for a series I have loved all my life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But there is a quote I like to refer to when thinking about the debate between Twilight and Harry Potter. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Harry Potter is about confronting fears, finding inner strength and doing what is right in the face of adversity. Twilight is about how important it is to have a boyfriend,” said Stephen King. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">J.K. Rowling explores the process of growing up in a time of strife. She takes readers on an emotional journey of self-discovery and good vs. evil. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I’m not really sure what sort of journey Stephanie Meyers takes readers on except a painful trip inside a moody teenage girl’s mind and her inner dialogue about how hot her vampire boyfriend is. Gag me with a werewolf. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Both series are good at the core. They made kids read and fall in love with something that can teach them a few things about growing up and finding themselves. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">So to all the Twi-hards out there, have a nice premiere weekend. I just can’t wait for the hype to end, and unfortunately I have to wait another whole year. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4u-KJS6cVMi5YIpgXZdoUw8P4pzwO2p_vzaFbrQVgRJ2kM7BvGNgudfUIBc0BrvSuadj_eyj2VMB72YEgmMLr8iOOedcnmGSB5H9jAqG6BSur1vvK8f92zn6dcz09lAK0GX3gHCsqDo/s1600/pooh" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC4u-KJS6cVMi5YIpgXZdoUw8P4pzwO2p_vzaFbrQVgRJ2kM7BvGNgudfUIBc0BrvSuadj_eyj2VMB72YEgmMLr8iOOedcnmGSB5H9jAqG6BSur1vvK8f92zn6dcz09lAK0GX3gHCsqDo/s200/pooh" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1c3Y3LLtPgv_gj2kj0bpdku1XEEEWcWJ1laTpiAESgFaLGyeSQL2b4Ea7E8Lg3pjaEPMjd2q-wjE-aUcgbTPQmgiS1-lQfXRCMlvGB0iKgz9QKvc4S8VN4lV-_7nDqQq0B5P1fONgRfE/s1600/muppet" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1c3Y3LLtPgv_gj2kj0bpdku1XEEEWcWJ1laTpiAESgFaLGyeSQL2b4Ea7E8Lg3pjaEPMjd2q-wjE-aUcgbTPQmgiS1-lQfXRCMlvGB0iKgz9QKvc4S8VN4lV-_7nDqQq0B5P1fONgRfE/s200/muppet" width="144" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-2420622483549201012011-11-04T08:27:00.001-06:002011-11-04T08:29:35.844-06:00My Globe Debut<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">The Head of the Charles Regatta is one of the largest rowing competitions in the world. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I had the opportunity to not only attend the Regatta, but also to cover it as part of the media team. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I know absolutely nothing about rowing, but jumped at the chance to be part of a real press team. I wanted to search out the story and write on deadline. I wanted to feel like a real world working journalist. And I got more than I asked for.</div><div class="MsoNormal"> I went to the Charles River on Friday and Saturday Oct. 21 and 22. I watched the boats gracefully glide through the water. I watched rowers get excited for their upcoming races. I watched a city become enamored with a great day for sports. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I wrote two stories in one day. I interviewed an array of interesting people. I learned something new. But I think most importantly I learned that being a journalist is something I want to do with the rest of my life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> My first story is about the naming of boats. You can read it <a href="http://hocr1965.blogspot.com/2011/10/whats-in-name.html" target="_blank">here</a>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> My second story allowed me to meet a true legend, write an insightful profile and to grace the pages of The Boston Globe. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Lynn Jennings is a world champion cross country runner and an Olympic bronze medalist in the 10,000-meter track and field event. She retired from running 11 years ago and took up rowing 5 years ago. She competed in the Grand Master Women Singles 50+ event. My professor who took all his students to cover the regatta knew that Jennings’s story was an interesting one simply because she is an Olympic athlete taking on a new sport. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> What he didn’t know was that Jennings would take third place in her race. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I interviewed her about her transition to rowing and her life these days. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> It was exciting to interview a legend, to see someone so dedicated to one thing succeed in another thing. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I went home after a long day at the river to an email that I had a story John Powers, the sports reporter from the Globe, didn’t have, and to look for my name in Sunday’s paper. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> So Sunday I bought the Boston Globe and looked in the sports section, something I never do, for my own name. And there it was. My name was bolded in a little blurb about Jennings. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> You can read my initial story <a href="http://hocr1965.blogspot.com/2011/10/olympic-runner-lynn-jennings-medals-in.html" target="_blank">here</a>. And if you are interested, you can check out the <a href="http://hocr1965.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">blog</a> where the team of student journalists I worked with all weekend and I published our coverage of the regatta. The blog is the official news source for the Head of the Charles Regatta. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I’ve also included a picture of my name in the Globe. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Who knew that the first time my name would be in the Globe would be in the sports page? </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-uykDQy5zCNJPtu1cGGvZa0nwEthTQmDGz9W1vcCXPJrxMKDHGPm4wSqAOT0DeFhOlBv1c_VXriVoagNLQNKTKlR99nzgDK33uaoByWea-HkcbEMhMdgIp9_G4Qxa7NkYrjnSWcohko/s1600/Globe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif-uykDQy5zCNJPtu1cGGvZa0nwEthTQmDGz9W1vcCXPJrxMKDHGPm4wSqAOT0DeFhOlBv1c_VXriVoagNLQNKTKlR99nzgDK33uaoByWea-HkcbEMhMdgIp9_G4Qxa7NkYrjnSWcohko/s320/Globe.jpg" width="224" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8zXN5xfp3kme1LtvlUQSOzSqfMhSLFq1t8BScOJ_FB_y0Vo6SBj4ZkR-Y_mM8rj67mjycBf_DL-EcpPFx6UOvgi3YkmHFdNb9-5zTbndWkjf5-oS78bDgqRBQrUU2AFid6AziKFaOmLw/s1600/Globe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8zXN5xfp3kme1LtvlUQSOzSqfMhSLFq1t8BScOJ_FB_y0Vo6SBj4ZkR-Y_mM8rj67mjycBf_DL-EcpPFx6UOvgi3YkmHFdNb9-5zTbndWkjf5-oS78bDgqRBQrUU2AFid6AziKFaOmLw/s320/Globe.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-50966455670741626992011-10-16T17:01:00.003-06:002011-10-18T10:28:25.369-06:00The Buried Life<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">What do you want to do before you die?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">This question can provoke hilarity or deep thinking. Either way, it is a question that deserves examination. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">This past week, a group of four guys called The Buried Life, came to speak at Northeastern. For anyone who is not familiar with MTV, The Buried Life is one of their more popular shows that follows these four guys, Duncan, Jonnie, Ben and Dave, as they try to cross items off their list of things they want to do before they die. What’s really cool is that The Buried Life also tries to help random strangers they meet along their journey accomplish items on their list. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">They spoke about how they began their project and where an idea so simple can take a person’s life and make a difference in others’. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Of course we all have a mental list of things we want to do before we die. Things like “fall in love,” “see the world” or “be happy” almost always make the average person’s list, mine included. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">But the lesson I gained from The Buried Life’s inspirational talk was that even having crazy items on your list isn’t unrealistic. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">It comes down to the idea of dreams vs. projects. We all have dreams that seem just beyond reach, but a project is something we can accomplish step by step. So looking at those crazy “bucket list” items isn’t so crazy after all. They are just another project waiting to be finished for our own self-fulfillment instead of at the beck and call of a teacher or boss. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Another lesson I learned is that verbalizing and putting those items in print make them just a little bit more real. Writing it down takes a dream from being an idea to an actualization of who you are and who you want to be. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> It is easy to lose yourself in college in the midst of the journey of self-discovery. I found it very therapeutic to write down my “list.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The things I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid have made me surer of where I come from. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The things I hope to do within my career are helping me to focus on that goal while here at college. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">And the things I’ve always thought about, but have never realized I can dream without being ridiculous have made me confident about who I am. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">All of these things combined and just looking at the list materialize gives me hope about my future. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span">Here is a sampling of my list</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">1. Have an article published in a major publication.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">2. Write a book.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">3. Go to the Ben and Jerry’s factory.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">4. Attend an awards show.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="color: #741b47;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times,'Times New Roman',serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span">5. Climb a fourteener. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Maybe one day I’ll be writing an entry on this blog about one item I crossed off. So here’s to making a list. Not because we think about death or living life to the fullest. Here’s to making a list because it makes us feel just a little more human. </div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-41034873196544820192011-09-25T12:03:00.000-06:002011-09-25T12:03:07.463-06:00¿Cuál es éste?<style>
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<div class="MsoNormal">¿Cuál es éste? </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">In Spanish that means, “What is this?” I was asking myself this question this past weekend when I tried Mexican food in Boston. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am currently taking Spanish 1, but don’t get too excited. I only know how to say, “Hola, coma te llamas? Me llamo Maureen.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Taking Spanish has made me crave Mexican food more than I ever have before. So we tried a little restaurant loved by locals called Fajitas and ‘Ritas. Let me note that by locals I mean local New Englanders who would be surprised by what real Mexican food is. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Being from Colorado, I get some of the best Mexican food around. I love tacos, smothered burritos, enchiladas, stuffed sopapillas and most importantly chile rellenos. The heat, the cheese, the spice and chile make my mouth water and erupt with flavor. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Needless to say, I miss this food when I leave my home state. So I was willing to fulfill my craving here in Boston. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>That was a big mistake. Boston’s version of Mexican food includes only fajitas, burritos (without being smothered in chile), quesadillas and salads. No tacos, no chiles, no heat. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The salsa was definitely from a jar that said “mild.” The chips were from a bag. The tortillas were the only things even remotely resembling something from a restaurant back home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I ordered the chicken fajitas. The chicken was a grilled breast. Not chunks marinated in Mexican spices. The red and green bell peppers and onions were steamed, not sautéed in those spices. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I was disappointed in what New Englanders think is Mexican food. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Now Boston can do some food right. There are great Asian take-out places, amazing Italian cuisine in the North End and fantastically fresh seafood. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">But the next time I get a craving for Mexican, I think I’ll stick to Chipotle or wait for the next trip home. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-24451144605369607852011-09-09T10:06:00.001-06:002011-09-10T09:29:08.524-06:00Back to Boston"I see my path, but I don't know where it leads. Not knowing where I'm going is what inspires me to travel it." <br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> This quote perfectly describes the start of my second year here at Northeastern. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I got back to the city last week, moved in a week ago, and started classes on Wednesday. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Even though I was here last year, it is very strange to be in the same place I began my college adventures, but to be starting something completely new. It is strange to walk through campus with a new view. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I now live on the other side of campus, so things feel new and different. I live in a single room with a bathroom I share with my suite mate. I live on the sixteenth floor of a 22-story building. I have incredible views of the city and a new perspective of what this year will bring. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> So I can see the path I will be traveling, but I don’t know where I’m headed or what life will bring me this semester. But maybe that is what makes it so exciting to have blind faith in my future and believe in myself so that where ever that path leads, I can know it is exactly where I’m supposed to be. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I’ve included some pictures of my room, which is much bigger than my shoebox of a dorm last year. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM44POJ9gNfcZ3GLJ0z5veyscH8ke7M9df4Kzn9QdhRH20wk9B0cyZAWooBY0NFFHSdew1__qyS455_qTsLATBBPVhN1Oxd-IoaobWyDIkfxn4wu5nEhUsfpBzsfY1fjvX5VQFi6ubUEA/s1600/DSCN1585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM44POJ9gNfcZ3GLJ0z5veyscH8ke7M9df4Kzn9QdhRH20wk9B0cyZAWooBY0NFFHSdew1__qyS455_qTsLATBBPVhN1Oxd-IoaobWyDIkfxn4wu5nEhUsfpBzsfY1fjvX5VQFi6ubUEA/s320/DSCN1585.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My room. </td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAXcV9zFHwT2oglW7tGsZ0dZ62kcWaqdHW1Fr9TAsafcqPbCUHMIp7NOewFzJoP2mnzRokqRSrZTmz5x4KOvJtxhC_YYYsdrCbxYXpi6gC24Asq_hHpUfVMDXJaxLkwTN63lpll4j5pD0/s1600/DSCN1588.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAXcV9zFHwT2oglW7tGsZ0dZ62kcWaqdHW1Fr9TAsafcqPbCUHMIp7NOewFzJoP2mnzRokqRSrZTmz5x4KOvJtxhC_YYYsdrCbxYXpi6gC24Asq_hHpUfVMDXJaxLkwTN63lpll4j5pD0/s320/DSCN1588.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFIU0xhHS494IcPaRAVyhmgSg4jwS8GBKYxhx_C1XIkjjWZ0JETFVtMPMygbMNDsFhvlSKlaPkUTndsKEF8JiEDVxbiKKHoMgX14iRbxJqDNdT9FiwXoAwatMSrDvZndI2MGKFvhnr2k/s1600/DSCN1589.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeFIU0xhHS494IcPaRAVyhmgSg4jwS8GBKYxhx_C1XIkjjWZ0JETFVtMPMygbMNDsFhvlSKlaPkUTndsKEF8JiEDVxbiKKHoMgX14iRbxJqDNdT9FiwXoAwatMSrDvZndI2MGKFvhnr2k/s320/DSCN1589.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My "side tables" made from packing boxes and fabric. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Harry Potter reading corner. </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the window behind my desk. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMKRbIJVsm02TmTW_TD26qJa1dIaks3ATanB85IQKUsC50iS6MggfuL7KSa6ebpg1CccbML1xPuEE9CGIZzov4PmK4dq6UsVuNpUWqwYTpiMVRkzP_noAtZzfoVRAbOiUBaxj3PqWwhs/s1600/DSCN1596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiMKRbIJVsm02TmTW_TD26qJa1dIaks3ATanB85IQKUsC50iS6MggfuL7KSa6ebpg1CccbML1xPuEE9CGIZzov4PmK4dq6UsVuNpUWqwYTpiMVRkzP_noAtZzfoVRAbOiUBaxj3PqWwhs/s320/DSCN1596.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of campus from my common room. </td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7YcRF6yWK5isuK2UiENX6vxUsCT5MOq_kvam461t5z7Lbp6mBIkRCtICP-LlGadbzFTFYpMUnOKsyszqxlbkMLo9_OlQ8KF1jnteyhyYmlkUkIc7AL3atNEJDDrtwLUIe77sDliGWME/s1600/DSCN1597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjT7YcRF6yWK5isuK2UiENX6vxUsCT5MOq_kvam461t5z7Lbp6mBIkRCtICP-LlGadbzFTFYpMUnOKsyszqxlbkMLo9_OlQ8KF1jnteyhyYmlkUkIc7AL3atNEJDDrtwLUIe77sDliGWME/s320/DSCN1597.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view of Boston from the common room. </td></tr>
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</div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-63447877725395365512011-08-17T11:22:00.000-06:002011-08-17T11:22:19.114-06:00My Summer Job<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">For most kids my age, a summer job means making sandwiches, watching little kids play in a pool, folding clothes or taking children on field trips. While there is absolutely nothing wrong with working in food service, retail, as a camp counselor, lifeguard or nanny, I had the once-in-a-lifetime chance at a unique and rewarding summer job.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Last December when my mom told me about a job our long time family friend had for me, I didn’t know what to think. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“You will be coordinating volunteers for a project her non-profit organization puts on,” she told me. Well I thought it sounded interesting enough and I would be getting paid. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Then in March when I interviewed, I still had a vague idea of what I would be doing this summer. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">So June came, and I jumped right in to an experience I would come out a different person. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I was an intern for the program called Crayons to Calculators. At first glance, it just sounds like a mouthful of a program that might have something to do with education. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">What I found was far more. Sure it is a program that collects and delivers school supplies for the 30 percent of economically disadvantaged kids in the Boulder Valley and St. Vrain Valley school districts, but it was the hardest, most stressful, most rewarding job I have ever had. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">For the first month I delivered a lot of posters to companies that hold a supply drive in their offices. I dressed as a crayon at farmers’ markets to raise awareness and money. I suffered several paper cuts from folding and sealing 700 letters asking previous donors for money. I worked closely with the world’s greatest boss and mentor. And I learned something new everyday. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Before I tell you what I did the last month and a half, you have to understand what we do. Crayons to Calculators main job is to fill 8,000 backpacks with school supplies for grades pre-school to 12<sup>th</sup> grade. At our location we had to sort, stuff, check and pack 4,000 of those backpacks to be delivered to the Boulder Valley school district. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">So July flew by as I arranged volunteer shifts for the first week in August. There is no way my boss, the other intern and I could fill 4,000 backpacks by ourselves. We could not have done any of it without our 200 amazing volunteers. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">My main job was to contact people who wanted to volunteer, sign them up and thank them when all said and done. And I am proud to say, as the Crayons to Calculators Volunteer Coordinator I successfully saw the project through and learned something new from all of my volunteers. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I learned to have patience from the Boulder Rotary Club. I learned to smile even when work is hard from the kids at American Eagle. I learned to have a good time while working from Brocade. And I learned to always be willing to take direction and help from the countless number of individual volunteers. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">And I have to thank my coworkers, Cheryl, Kate and Natalie, for keeping me sane during the whole process. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">I don’t know where else I could have dressed up in a crayon costume, met hundreds of new people, learned new people skills, made a music video, made a difference in the community and had the time of my life. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Thank you Crayons to Calculators for changing the way I see the world and myself. Thank you for teaching me to be a generous, kind and hard-working person. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will always be a part of who I am. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/qD3D7tjN-Lw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The music video we made when the project was finished. </div><!--EndFragment--> Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-42628181632210873902011-07-15T11:55:00.002-06:002011-07-15T11:55:48.237-06:00A Magical Goodbye<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Dear Harry, </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It is time to say goodbye. The turning of this page saddens me. For it is not just the saying goodbye to you and your adventures on the page and screen. It is not just saying goodbye to the anticipation of a new interpretation of you and your story. It is not just saying goodbye to not knowing how you will present yourself to me next. This is a goodbye to my childhood. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I watched you on the big screen for the last time, I had a smile on my face, tears in my eyes and love in my heart. There were other people in the theater, kids much younger than me, and adults much older than me. But it was my peers and me I feel you were really there for. It is my generation who first read your books and fell in love with your story at the age of 5, and still hasn’t fallen out even at age 19. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>It was my generation that waited with baited breath for each new installment of the literary journey that was your life. It was my generation that dressed like wizards, witches, Hogwarts students, owls, quidditch players and even snitches to show our appreciation as we waited in lines miles and hours long. It was my generation who found the beauty in a story about a boy and a wand, not to mention the world in which he so completely belonged. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As you found your place in the wizarding world, we were finding our places in this world. As you were finding out your true destiny, we were finding our true passions. As you were figuring out the complexities of friendship, love and loss, so were we. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I am so grateful you were a part of my childhood. You guided me, taught me so many things, gave me so many laughs, made me cry and cringe, but most importantly you helped me to see the magic in my life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>To the critics of my generation who say that these fans are crazy or devoted, you are correct. We are crazy, but not for just some story. We are crazy for the characters and heart that the story holds. We are devoted to this because it gave us so much in return. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And to those in my generation who were unhappy with the film adaptations not staying true to the books, it is not about putting every word from J.K. Rowling’s pen onto the screen. The movies are about reuniting with our favorite characters, our favorite world, our favorite boy with a hero complex, our favorite red headed sidekick with a wicked sense of humor, and our favorite brilliant and beautiful best friend. The movies are about seeing those things in a new way with all the joy the story can give us. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Thank you, Harry, for showing me what a truly magical experience is. I lived it in every way. And thank you for giving me one last piece of wisdom before you left us. Dumbledore said to Harry in the heavenly King’s Cross Station, “Words are our most inexhaustible source of magic.” </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And so they have been. Words, Harry, gave me you and your friends. They gave me something to fall into and love with all my heart, they gave me a wonderful childhood. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And so as your mother said to you when you asked if she would stay with you, I know that your will be with me in my heart. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>“Always.” </div><div class="MsoNormal">Love a devoted fan and honorary witch,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Maureen</div><!--EndFragment-->Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-60670537493269172902011-06-09T17:57:00.004-06:002011-06-10T16:18:36.125-06:00My Favorite Things (about summer)With Oprah off the air now I feel like I need to make a list of my favorite things to fill her void. But that list would be far too long, so I’ve narrowed it to be my favorite things about summer.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">1. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>The Colorado weather</b>.</span> Everyone told me when I left for Boston that I was leaving the best weather in the world. And they were right. Absolutely nothing beats a Colorado summer. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Our heat can be blistering, true, but we never reach the temps the deserts do. And the best part is no humidity. My friends from the East Coast who have never ventured West do not understand the concept of dry heat, but let me tell you, if you grow up in dry heat, you can’t even bare the idea of the humid air that occupies pretty much every other state in the country. I love how the close sun can warm my skin in an instant of stepping outside. I love the breezes that fall from the mountains through my car windows. I love the daily 30-minute thunderstorms. I love Colorado summers. </div><div class="MsoNormal">2.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b> Summer Movies.</b></span> When school lets out and boredom sets in, we all run to the movies for our escape from the weather and our otherwise uneventful summer activities. I love the movies, no matter what time of year it is, but I really love the movies in the summer. It is Hollywood’s time to impress all the people buying overpriced tickets, so they pull out all the stops to make it worth spending $10.50 to be entertained for two hours. My two favorite movies so far this summer are “Bridesmaids” and “Pirates of the Caribbean 4.” </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">“Bridesmaids” is one of the funniest movies I have ever seen. Aside from the fact that Kristen Wiig, the star and co-writer, is my hero, the movie proves that women really can do anything, even make a man laugh. “Bridesmaids” is rolling in raunchy comedy, is packed to the brim with brilliant performances, has a real “girl power” message, and deep down illuminates how truly ridiculous friendships between women can be. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Now I was not a fan of the last two “Pirates” movies, and unlike the next girl, I’m not daydreaming about Johnny Depp. I think he is just plain strange. But this fourth installment in the action-fantasy movies actually caught my attention. The story line was interesting. Johnny Depp’s infamous Jack Sparrow had some pretty funny lines, and I was intrigued. I liked following the frolicking tale through the sea and rainforest. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The two movies I’m looking forward to the most are “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows- Part 2” and “The Help.” Both are based on books I have read and respect, so I’m hoping their movie counterparts will not disappoint. </div><div class="MsoNormal">3. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>Terrible TV.</b></span> With the season of season finales, I tend to get a little depressed. My favorite shows take a vacation, but I don’t. Therefore, I am forced to watch terrible reality TV and a few awards shows here and there. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> My summer favorites include, “Next Food Network Star” and the up-and-coming “Glee Project.” Both are competition reality shows that will choose new people to be on TV, one for their own cooking show and one to have a reoccurring guest role on the TV sensation, “Glee.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">4. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>Summer Reading.</b></span> Now summer reading is something I used to dread, especially when I’m forced to re-read a book I read in sixth grade. But finally I have the summer to read whatever I choose. So I have chosen quite the selection. I am reading all of Chelsea Handler’s irreverent comedy books, which I have to say, I really have enjoyed. I am reading Jodi Picoult’s newest installment. I want to read Tina Fey’s brilliance in print, “Bossypants.” And I am most looking forward to reuniting with my favorite four best friends from the Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants in a new book that catches up with them ten years after the last book ended. I can read for hours on end in the summer without feeling like I’ve wasted any of my time. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">I guess you could say, looking back at my list, that all I’m really trying to do is fill my days with things to do. In a way that is true, but more importantly I’m trying to enjoy my summer. Just because the things I’m looking forward to the most come in print or on the screen doesn’t mean I’m not looking forward to staying up late, eating ice cream, wearing my flip-flops and swimming in my pool. Summer was invented so the human race, or probably just Americans, can enjoy themselves, the glorious weather and summer foods, so if that means I have to find time for a few movies, some terrible TV shows and books that will never be considered classics, then so be it. </div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-43948719226592762242011-05-19T14:04:00.003-06:002011-05-19T14:10:10.825-06:00Advice for the Class of 2011Yesterday I attended my high school’s graduation. I celebrated with the Class of 2011. I watched them cross the stage and walk in to the famous “Pomp and Circumstance.” I envied them a bit, but more than anything I reminisced about my own graduation that happened exactly one year ago.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> What would I have liked to know on that celebratory day? What do I know now that I can share with the seniors who are embarking on the journey of a new beginning? </div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">1.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>Cherish these moments</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; text-indent: .25in;">Right now everyone is celebrating your accomplishments. Everyone around you is proud of you because of what you’ve become. You have the world in front of you. Don’t forget that feeling, because in a few short months, that feeling might overwhelm you. It’s exciting for sure, but overwhelming nonetheless. Right now, you have some of the best friendships you will ever have. New friends will come along and you will expand your relationships. But in this moment, these are the people who spent four years of continuous days with you. They know you better than anyone. Soon that won’t be true because you will change and so will they. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: .25in; text-indent: .25in;">This summer will be great. But this is the last summer where you won’t miss someone. Once you go to college, you miss your friends from home, and when you come home, you miss your friends from college. So enjoy the bliss of not missing someone. </div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">2.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b> </b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>Be frightened, but be brave</b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">It’s ok to feel scared about what the future has to bring. The unknown of roommates, dining halls, community bathrooms, college academia, a new place and a newfound independence can certainly be anxiety-producing thoughts. Going to college was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done. But knowing it was ok to feel that way helped me to stay afloat. The fact that millions of people go to college and not just survive, but thrive is also encouraging. If I know someone before me has done this and been just fine, I feel I can do it too. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">So be frightened, because that is completely normal. But be brave. Face this new change head on with the courage to succeed and create your own future. </div><div class="MsoListParagraph" style="margin-left: .25in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">3.<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b> </b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>Always be yourself </b></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .25in;">Going to a new place and meeting several new people is not easy. But it will be even harder if you don’t go as yourself. Don’t be ashamed of who you are or where you come from. Those are the things that make you interesting. And if someone doesn’t like you for a special quirk you have, then who cares. One lesson I wish I had known was you don’t have to be everyone’s friend. Everyone goes to college expecting to be best friends with everyone in their hall or in their classes. But this isn’t high school. (And I doubt anyone was friends with everyone in high school either). You don’t have to be anyone but yourself, and if that self isn’t friends with the girl in the room next to you or the boy who always sits in the common room, then so be it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So to the seniors of 2011, welcome to your new beginning. The parties will come and go. The summer nights will blend into wonderful memories. Your friends will never leave your heart. And always remember what high school gave you. The future is uncertain and scary, but anything that comes easy usually isn’t worth it. Good luck in everything you do. Take it from a girl who has been there, a little luck doesn’t hurt a thing. </div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-43477496133548183652011-05-02T15:54:00.000-06:002011-05-02T15:54:54.793-06:00That "After" Feeling<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="MsoNormal">It seems like just yesterday I was graduating from Holy Family with the whole world right in front of me, and the rest of my life ahead of me. But here I am, one year done with college. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I feel like just yesterday I was writing my first blog entry about anticipating everything before me. And now I’m sitting in my room just as it was in August, but a new person with my first year of college behind me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>In a way, I feel like I am the same girl who left Colorado and high school behind. But I know that isn’t true. I changed this year. I’m still an impatient, strong-minded, honest, control freak red head who would do anything for her friends. But I grew in so many ways. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>When I got to Northeastern, I was scared and ready for the year to come. And now said and done, the year was a learning experience. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I learned how to live among a group of people. I learned to live with a roommate, how to share the laundry room and how to hold my tongue even when I couldn’t sleep and the kids in the common room were screaming. I learned that I don’t ever want to live in a dorm again, but I’m glad I got the experience. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I had to relearn how to make friends and get to know people. I had to relearn how to share my life with my friends, and how to love someone not despite but because of their flaws. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I learned how to cope with frustration. The most important lesson I learned from frustration was how to let go and forgive. In October, when high school was unnecessarily haunting me, I didn’t know what to do. The old me would have freaked out at the people causing me pain. Instead I freaked out to the people I knew would catch me as I was falling. A few weeks into the silly issue, I completely let go of the anger I was feeling and forgave the people causing me the pain I wanted so badly to go away. Forgiveness, I learned, is the best medicine. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>The whole ordeal in October, taught me how to handle a crisis as an adult. It helped me to grow as a person. And most importantly I learned a lesson I’ve been trying to perfect my whole life, how to let go. Now looking back on the whole thing, I smile and roll my eyes, but I’m also thankful for what I came out with. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>This year allowed me to find myself in a completely new environment. My solid and consistent background gave me a good sense of who I was, so being put into a new situation caused me to lose myself a little bit. I’m not 100 percent sure I found myself again, but college is for finding a new self identity, so I’ll get there, I’m just giving myself the time I need. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>As I packed up my shoebox of a dorm room and rolled my suitcases out, I got that “after” feeling. I was feeling sentimental about my time in Smith Hall at Northeastern. As much as I didn’t like my room, or my hall, or even being a freshman, it was still a part of who I was. It will always be a part of me. <span> </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span></span> So what will the summer and sophomore year bring? Who knows? But all I can say is, “Bring it on.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbN-8noU8jGtHr8Hh8o7ci48FIVPeMdO5BX13Zu6SgOy1T5OtXDbT6mTEKiVMlZhvby27jCkeKoiofk2zMr-xnnkdw1lqrLTaoG5uiXkERxkZuhRSHGi0VHyA0lmq4S885QayNtYUSjl4/s1600/10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbN-8noU8jGtHr8Hh8o7ci48FIVPeMdO5BX13Zu6SgOy1T5OtXDbT6mTEKiVMlZhvby27jCkeKoiofk2zMr-xnnkdw1lqrLTaoG5uiXkERxkZuhRSHGi0VHyA0lmq4S885QayNtYUSjl4/s320/10.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><!--EndFragment-->Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-89362398345883874262011-04-25T21:57:00.001-06:002011-04-25T22:07:44.169-06:00You've got a friend in me“Friends are people who know you, but like you anyway.” In the second part of my reflection series, I want to examine the social aspect of my college experience.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> In my first year, I had to make new friends for the first time in my life. And I am not kidding. I went to the same school as my two best friends for 13 years, so I never really had to forge out into the friendship seas by myself. I always had them to help me meet people and learn to love new people.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">When I moved across the country without either of them, I was frightened and exhilarated. I got to be anyone I wanted without my friends there exposing all my secrets. I got to be a new friend who people discovered for themselves. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">My first friend was my roommate, Niki. We drifted apart, but I certainly owe a lot to her. Without her, I would be eating meals by myself. She helped me to make friends with others and break out of my introvert shell. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">One of my first memories of Niki is from the first night we moved in. We talked about the basics of our lives and showed each other pictures of those we loved back home. I was discovering a new person. I will always cherish that memory as the scariest and most thrilling night of the beginning of this journey. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Thinking about how I met my now best friends is like watching the beginning of a very familiar movie. Beginnings aren’t always exciting, but they are important. And I’ve learned that fate has an interesting effect on those beginnings we so often overlook. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">In the first hall meeting, a sheet went around for us to put our names, our birthdays and our favorite candies on. I was one of the last people to get the sheet. As I scanned all the names and candies, I thought, “My future best friend could be in this very room.” Then one name caught my attention. Chelsea’s name was written in big loopy handwriting and her favorite candy was gummy bears, just like mine. I knew I had to meet her, and what do you know, I did. She is now one of my best friends.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">My neighbor and future roommate, Kait, joined us shortly later to make an incredible friendship. Together we laugh, get mad and do all the things friends should do. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">Along with Kait, Chelsea and Chelsea’s roommate, Laura, and her two friends, Jamie and Eugenia, we formed a good group of friends. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">This past weekend I went to Chelsea’s with Kait. The three of us looked forward to meeting and seeing everything about Chelsea’s life that makes her who she is. One of her friends was surprised we knew so much about her life. But that’s what friends are. They know everything about you, and like you anyway. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">We have also found it easier to talk freely about things in our lives. I told Chelsea and Kait that because my friends from home come from nearly identical backgrounds as me and I grew up with them, I never get to hear their life stories in their own words. I love hearing stories about Chelsea’s and Kait’s families, friends and memories from life because that is my way of learning about who they are. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">So my social life wasn’t as cliché as a college comedy flick because I only went to three parties, but I don’t care. </div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">The friends I made helped me to have a great first year. They taught me a lot about myself, but more importantly they shared their lives with me, and I am so grateful. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwMhRDg_Jc4DJdAJ6gme5N6jHD-zpVKtA8LfspWiGHf_nikJt9a5NpBlzr11vBCo2Fn4dNGZMEulhe1-uzxrw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="MsoNormal"> </div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662746404984122338.post-35308839526137904022011-04-17T15:27:00.004-06:002011-04-18T09:47:17.031-06:00ABC...123Aside from the social stigmas of college, when all said and done, college is about the things we learn in the classroom. The academics are a big part of why we choose the schools we do. Because in the end, that degree is what we are here for. We are just lucky enough to gain so much more.<br />
<div class="MsoNormal"> Now that I have finished my first year of college academics, I can attest to whatever clichés high school teachers tell their students to scare them. I used to be the high school student so scared by the “college is going to be a lot harder,” talk from my teachers. But I guess I was well prepared, or maybe I chose a good major, because I didn’t find the academics much harder than some of my high school classes. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Sure I had my challenges, but nothing I couldn’t handle. My first year was certainly a learning experience, especially in the classroom. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I found my professors to be incredibly intelligent, hard working people who enjoy what they do. So in turn I enjoyed the courses I was taking. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Of course I liked my journalism classes, but not because of the content. Actually the papers were my biggest challenge of the year. I loved my classes because I was learning from former and current journalists. My interpreting the day’s news professor can be watched on Boston’s nightly news as the investigative reporter. My journalism 1 professor wrote for The Wall Street Journal, Miami Herald, was an editor for The Hartford Courant and wrote a book about The New York Times coverage of the Holocaust during WWII. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> My history and psychology classes were interesting, and I learned something new. My Black Popular Culture class was easy but incredibly fascinating. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> Now natural disasters sounds like an attractive class but think again. The lectures were quite boring even though the topic matter sounds exhilarating. But I am glad I took the class to get my science credit out of the way, and if I ever have to cover a natural disaster for the news, I will be knowledgeable enough to know what category of tornado can tear a roof off a house or level a building. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> And finally, I took my two math credits this year to get them out of the way. And for the first time since fourth grade I got an A. I actually somewhat enjoyed my math classes this year because of my clear and enthusiastic teachers. I won’t miss taking math by any means, but I’m glad Northeastern made it bearable for me. </div><div class="MsoNormal"> I am learning so much in college, but the things I came here to learn enriched my experience sevenfold. So I’m crossing my fingers for straight A’s again because that would simply be the cherry on top of my college academic sundae. </div>Maureen Quinlanhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08701725413798575436noreply@blogger.com0