 |
| San Antonio at night - the view from our 23rd floor room |
*Note, the majority of
this post was written very late at night after a long day next to sleeping
roommates. The rest was written and put together during the long bus ride back
to Springfield on Sunday. Sorry for the grammar/other issues.
Wednesday morning at
6:30 am, Hailey Rutledge, Erin Quinn, Nurnberg and myself, began a 14 hour bus
ride toward San Antonio, Texas for this fall’s National High School Journalism
Convention. Parkview hadn’t been in quite some time, it was an honor to go and
an enjoyable experience. (Plus it was super fun.)
Thursday: Team Storytelling
 |
| La Villita |
We woke up much too
early and made our way to the convention center, a mere three (giant) city
blocks away. We had explored the area the previous night when we arrived,
walking to the nearby mall to eat and going through a section of the river
walk. Everything needed seemed to be within a three-to-four block radius,
including the Alamo, CVS, several lovely restaurants and countless tourist
traps we made full use of.
The event of the day
for us was an eight-hour workshop that dealt with finding and putting together
a story in a group of three: a writer (Hailey), a photographer (Erin), and a
designer (Me).
Our mission was to
walk (just three blocks) to La Villita (Lah Veetah), a small, historic arts
village in the heart on San Antonio, to find a story to tell together.
 |
The La Villita Cafe
(Wonderful lunch there) |
La Villita, at first
glance, is just simply beautiful. The entrance opened up in to a plaza area
with a climbable fountain centered in between a fence, a small, aged church and
a secondary terraced entrance into the village itself.
The village was lain
out in haphazard rows and crisscrossing brick walkways. Huge pots held healthy plants
and each corner had a small garden of green and flowered growth. The shops
themselves were one of a kind, converted from two and one story homes from long
ago. One shop we entered in the corner of the village was named Found. It had
all sorts of items from rusty tins to vintage circus games. Most notably, to us
anyhow, was the cat that darted through the shop like it owned the place.
As a side note, our
visit was enhanced by the journalistic approach we had to take: we had to talk
to people, really converse with them and find out who they were. We applied
this to the owner of Found, a frizzy-haired lady named Laura, and found our
story.
Cutie, the cat in the
shop.
 |
Hissy, a cat from
La Villita |
 |
A plaque commemorating
a cat from La Villita's
past |
As it turns out, she
was not the only cat in La Villita. Almost 12 cats call this village their home
and these shopkeepers their owners and protectors. We went on the Great Cat
Search of 2012 on Thursday, and were successful in finding Timmy, Boots, Hissy,
and of course Cutie. Their stories were different from each other, and their
habits unique to their name. The people and workers of La Villita take care of
the cats and treat them like family, leaving food and water out and their doors
open to them for most of the day.
La Villita was so…
full of life and joy and colors (and cats). The people were some of the nicest
I’ve ever talked to, and the general air of the place was anything but dull. La
Villita thrummed with a heart unique to its history.
(The workshop was
wonderful as well, it taught us to work as a team – especially since we only
had a few hours and one computer – and to visualize the end product. It was
amazing what the three of us could accomplish in just a few short hours working
together. The content of the story is somewhat restricted in this post as I
don’t know exactly what we are going to do with our creation.)
 |
An outdoor amphitheatre on
the river walk next to La Villita |
 |
A bridge across the river walk
next to the theatre |
 |
One of my first glimpses
at the river walk |
 |
| More river walk |
 |
The mall and river walk
decorated for Christmas |
Thursday evening we
ventured down in to the famous River Walk of San Antonio to explore and find a
nice restaurant to dine at. We almost circled the busy walk and went up and
down countless stairs, across several bridges and around locals and tourists
alike. There were a million places to look and thousands of vantage points to
photograph from and it was a relief to sit down in Michelinos to eat (and be
serenaded by a mariachi band to the prevalent strains of La Bamba).
Friday: Friday morning was busy. A full schedule lay ahead of us and none
of us were up to it. Bus-lag (similar to jet-lag) had caught up and running
around a strange city the entire day before didn’t help matters along much.
The four of us split
up when we got to the convention center to attend different seminars. I went to
a descriptive writing one held in Ballroom C-4 . Ballroom C-4, as it were, is
not only a floor above everyone else, it is also nestled into the corner of the
gigantic building in a humongous room.
Ballroom C-4 didn’t
fill with convention-goers completely but the presentation was definitely
interesting. (It made me think of Comp, which is the main reason I’m writing
this and posting it to the blog, Ms. James.)
I took some notes from
the hour-long speech and I thought I’d share them with anyone who has made it
this far. (These will be expanded in here, so they’ll make sense to all of you.)
- >Descriptive
writing: The presenter’s grandmother was blind, and was an avid sports fan. She
would listen to the radio and their description of the game put her on the
front row. His point to this anecdote was that descriptive writers have to write
for a blind audience, to put them in the situation that’s being described.
- >He told us
that the
less someone has to say to get their point across, the more powerful it is. That’s
right, classmates, Ms. James and other teachers do know what they’re talking
about. It’s true, if you think about it. Which would you rather read?
1.
Washington
D.C. is very busy all the time, and it always feel like something important is
happening on every corner.
2.
Washington
D.C. is a hive of important activity.
Number
two, right? Ta, da.
- >Anything
you write down improves your grasp of the language. To practice descriptive writing, he told us to
watch TV for five minutes or an hour, and write down what we saw. Expand the
murder scene in the movie and read it to someone to practice details and
putting the reader where you were, allowing them to see what you saw.
- >Humans get
used to seeing things and people, but a writer needs to actively practice observation.
Seriously. What color are the desks at school? Your best friend, what is he or
she wearing today? What color was the car that tailgated you all the way to
school? CONSTANT VIGILANCE.
- >Find the
one thing that makes whatever you are writing about unique and describe it,
make it instantly recognizable.
- >Most
importantly, whatever you write, have someone read it. You are an artist,
and you’ve crafted something. There’s nothing wrong with asking someone to read
your work or look at your painting.
All of that and more
out of an hour of listening to a guy speak. Interesting, no?
 |
| The hotel view during the day |
After that first
session, we had to go back to our hotel and check out. This involved dragging
all of our stuff those three giant city blocks back to our new hotel right in
front of the Convention Center and River Walk (and Mall). We hurriedly went
back to La Villita to buy the things we admired on Thursday (what lovely
people, if you ever get the chance…)
Just in time, we made
it back to the hotel to drop off our great finds and pick up supplies for our
next event.
The Write-Off.
This was probably the
most un-terrifying thing I could possibly think about. The three of us would
split up (a great idea – we all needed a break from one another at that point)
to go to different sections. Hailey took Newspaper, Erin Copy Editing, and I
took Feature. The write-off was just a timed presentation / Q&A / writing
workshop, which our end result would be critiqued by the judges and sent back
to us. No big deal, right?
Wrong!
I was so unprepared
when I got to the room. I am the luckiest person alive to have an iPhone to
record the interview (she spoke fast and quotes were essential) and headphones
(it was technically a contest so we couldn’t share/distract other people). Well,
sharing…. I did do that. The girl I sat next to, a nice Sophomore from
somewhere in Kansas, loaned me a black pen (needed for the final draft) and in
turn I let her listen to my recording (she didn’t have a fancy phone like my Martin).
We all ate at The
Original Mexican Restaurant on the River Walk and made it back to our hotel in
time to view the stunning view at night.
(Believe it or not,
homework actually got done that night, namely more of my history paper was
written. I couldn’t seem to focus on this Comp essay due soon, there were too
many things running through my mind and Henry VIII could barely fit in as it
was.)
Saturday: In the park. I think it was the fourth of July… (This is from a
song by Chicago, and every time I say or hear Saturday it starts in my head.)
We woke up early
(again) and walked to the Starbucks on the River Walk in the mall by our hotel
(what a wonderful set up that was). Sadly, my Tall Mocha Frappachino was not up
to usual par, aka, it was a watery disaster.
 |
| The Alamo |
 |
| A tree at the Alamo |
 |
Completely accidental
Alamo photobomb. |
 |
Hailey holding the Alamo
(we took turns) |
 |
| Me holding up the Alamo |
Then we went to The
Alamo. The actual Alamo! How cool is that? The grounds were beautiful and the
building itself nothing like I imagined. It was a lot bigger, and cleaner, than
I expected for one, and well worth the visit. My mom told us about the big
guest book of the Alamo that she signed when she lived in San Antonio for a
year. The book had been replaced with three laptops with entry fields for your
first and last name mounted to the wall. Just think about that for a moment.
After the Alamo, several
tourist traps were visited and more things were bought.
We made our way to the
Convention around noon to attend some seminars. Hailey and I went to a legal
one involving
copyright infringement.
That sounded horribly
boring, but the shark speaking at the front was a character. (30 Rock fans,
think a mix between Jack McBrayer and Dr. Spaceman.) I now know (pretty much)
know how to use images/content from the internet in our publication without
being sued or arrested. At the end of the hour, we all received Cure Hazelwood
bracelets.
(If your are
unfamiliar with the Supreme Court Case of Hazelwood v Kuhlmeir, I suggest you
either Wikipedia it or go to www.curehazelwood.org
for more information.)
Our second topic was
about magazine covers, and was basically a slideshow of the really good and the
really bad. Very ex
 |
The river walk running under
the convention center |
citing…
At 2:30 in the
afternoon, we went to a critique session about our Team Storytelling from
Thursday. I was originally looking forward to it, but the session was ruined
because out Team Leader lost our work and couldn’t show it. The entire time was
a waste of attention and resources, and was handled very unprofessionally.
To shake off the
lameness of the afternoon, our trio of Parkview kids went to the movie theater
in the mall to see Wreck it Ralph. It was hilarious, seriously worth it and
rather original. Oreo. Ore-eeee-o. (Go see it.)
The several level mall
was thoroughly explored and the Alamo traipsed by again. We stumbled back to
the hotel half-dead and I was the only one awake within a half-hour (which is
when I started this little project).
Sunday: Not much to say today. I’m sitting on a bus next to someone I
don’t know and my ears won’t stop popping painfully… Maybe gum will help. To my right, dead looking fields and bushes sprawl out in a way that reminds me of Missouri.
The same to my left, and yet we’re still hundreds of miles and many hours away
from home. Tomorrow at school will be interesting, as we’re unprepared for our
classes and will probably be half asleep in all of them. This Thanksgiving, I’ll
be thankful for the five day weekend it brings.
Well, I'm finally done with this gigantic post. We just passed through Dallas and I am ready to be home (I miss school. Sad, no?)
Cheers to you if you
made it through this post,
Michelle.
 |
| Breakfast at our first hotel. |
