My heart is torn in two. I’ve never been more confused. Just recently I went on an excursion to New York City. It was a graduation gift to myself. I went to explore. I went seeking an adventure. I went to job hunt. I also went to question myself, would I/could I ever reside in the city that never sleeps?

 

I’m from the state of California and I love the weather. I love the beach. I love palm trees. I love beautiful pink coastal sunsets/sunrises. I love movies. I love the glamour of Hollywood. I love Los Angeles. And, I wish I never traveled to NYC, simply because I fell madly in love with the city’s culture, kick and soul. Time Square was grand, dazzling, hectic and so fascinating. Time Square looked just like it did in the movies. The repercussion of my affinity towards the Big Apple left me pondering could I, should I, move to NYC? O, what to do and where to go?

 

In the interim, I thought sitting within this producing class could mitigate my headaches and heartaches. I hoped it would also aid with the decision-making process and allow me to hone my writing skills and so I can focus on getting more experience and additional newsroom skills.

 

Apart from the fact that it is certainly liberating and allows me to release stress and anger, journaling has rekindled my passion for writing and led me to ask again, why I love it so. I find myself thinking of a birth mother I never knew, who gave me up for adoption simply because she did not have any money to support me or herself. I cannot fathom how many pieces her heart broke into. I wonder if her story was shared and if someone had taken the time to tape, compose, edit, develop, produce a segment on her, introduce a relationship between her and the world, would her cry have been heard?

 

This is why we choose to become writers, anchors, reporters, directors, and producers. We write to seek truth and integrity. We write to inform. We write to share struggles. We write to share emotions. We write to give a voice to the voiceless. We have the innate itch to acquire information and knowledge of the lives surrounded by us and around the world. My mother is a story. You are a story. My inability to decided between LA and NYC is a story, an inane one. Any and every story, big and small, needs to be heard.  

 

The power of your words…developing, producing human connections, through any feature, whether for a newscast, a documentary, a magazine, a prime time special is imperative. Somewhere out there, what you write, may be mending a heart torn in two.