A long time coming

So have you been wondering why I haven't done anything stupid in awhile -- 'coz, you know, I have. Until Thursday, that is.

I had an invitation to a luncheon on microfinance, part of the Clinton Global Initiative conference. The luncheon was scheduled to be from 12:45 to 2:00 on Thursday. I was excited to go -- albeit slightly nervous -- and was hoping to get some story ideas out of it. More bylines are always good, right?

The day before the luncheon, I received an email from the PR rep, saying that the time had been changed from 12:45 to 2:45. And on Thursday, I received a voicemail from the PR confirming the time change -- from 12:45 to 2:45.

So about 15 minutes before the appointed time, I checked my make-up, picked up my notebook and sauntered the few blocks to the Sheraton. I walked in and was confronted by groups of people wearing nametags, and purposefully networking. I was directed to the press room to get my credentials. And after a long procedure that involved the taking of a very bad photo, I made it through security and into the press area for the conference.

I walked past a row of rooms lined with desks and laptops, with reporters scattered through them watching a series of screens showing various conference events. It didn't look like anyone was having lunch. And anyway, I had passed the restaurant where the luncheon was supposed to be, and there were just a few stragglers sitting at tables -- certainly nothing that looked like a "luncheon" and certainly no Mohammed Yunnus or Vinod Khosla. Confused, I approached a woman who looked like she was in charge.

"Do you know where the microfinance luncheon is?" I asked her.

Blank stare.

"You know, there's a session on microfinance, that's part of this conference?"

"Ummm, I'm not sure." She consulted the list of conference sessions, and shook her head. "Do you know who's in it?"

I told her.

"Well, it says here they were in a session, but it's over," she informed me.

After a short back and forth and a confused phone call to the PR firm handling one of the panelists, I thanked the woman and walked back to the office, resigning myself to the fact that the luncheon was indeed over.

And it made sense. I had wondered about it, but hadn't given it too much thought. I mean, I had to wonder, right? Why would anyone would start a luncheon so late?

'Coz, you see, when the PR rep said the time had been changed from 12:45 to 2:45, I thought it had been changed TO 2:45. So that's when I went -- at 2:45.

Goodbye serious blog. . . and hello, yet another one

Ini has made a decision.

Sadly, my "serious" blog seems to have fallen flat on its face, and there is about as little interest in the world in reading it as I seem to have in writing it. So I've decided to swallow my pride, accept my shortcomings, and give up on writing about topics and issues that many many people write about, and do so better than I do or ever could.

Instead I've decided to turn my pen -- or keyboard -- to the world of books, and start . . . a BOOK REVIEW BLOG! I've scrolled through good ol' Technorati, and there don't seem to be too many blogs dedicated solely to books -- so I've decided to take the plunge.

I plan to start with one review every week to week-and-a-half, and build up to about two a week. I just scrounged through the free books and manuscripts at the mag, sent by hopeful publicists trying to get a review and sadly abandoned, and have decided to start off reviewing a few of them, and see how it goes.

This is an experiment for now, and I'm doing it just to see how it goes, and to make myself read books. (This journalism thing has meant that I devour newspapers and magazines, at the expense of my beloved books). It might also flop, but I'll never know until I try, right? So send me your suggestions on books on any subject -- I only ask that it's relatively new. Or, send me your own books -- again, relatively new, or not yet published! And I'll review away!

The blog address will be decided shortly.

Oooh. This is like sixth grade all over again!

Nothing to write about

I haven't got a thought in my head . . . not a whit. Which translates into: I have nothing to blog about. Well, I do, sort of, but it's about jobs and what will happen after Oct. 13, when what has become my pseudo-internship ends, and whom I can beg or bribe to keep me on the magazine. But you don't want to read about all that.

Oh, here's another thought. A conversation with Mr. Bill Clinton may be in the works. MAY BE! Of course, I'm sure I've jinxed it by broadcastingi it to the world. But oh well. If it happens, I'll tell you the story!

New plans!

It's funny how things work themselves out -- or not so much work themselves out as turn around from one of the worst things that's happened to one of the best. A couple of weeks ago, I was told that my job offer from the wire service was rescinded. Last week, that was confirmed. I was very upset -- as it was obvious from my last post. It would have been one thing if I hadn't gotten it in the first place -- but the fall from the elation of being about to start the perfect job to losing it before I even got there was hard.

But, as I scrambled to find other options, at the back of my mind, a question lingered: what would I do with myself for four months next year, between when my current visa expires, and my next one will (hopefully) start. I voiced this concern to Caveboy, whose response was "Do what I did. Go to Guatemala. Learn Spanish. . . or Arabic!"

And I realized that of course I could! I've gotten so used to the idea of not being able to leave that it didn't occur to me that next summer, I will be able to. I could go anywhere! Do anything! The world would be my oyster! I've been kicking myself for not traveling more when I was in London, and complaining that I can't go anywhere now. And four months with nothing to do would be the perfect opportunity to do so! So I've been thinking and planning and researching and have come up with a tentative plan:

Here it is: a month in Beirut, taking intensive Arabic classes, and traveling around the country and Middle East on weekends(specific destinations to be decided based on situation at that time). Another month in Cairo, on a more advanced Arabic class with weekend trips to other parts of Egypt, and Algeria, Tunisia and Morocco. Then the third month in France -- not Paris, although it will include a visit there -- taking intensive French classes, and traveling around Europe. Then a week in London, before returning to Sri Lanka before coming back (hopefully) to the U.S.

And throughout this time, I'll write freelance stories and sell them to publications. And write a book!

Yes yes. I know, I'm dreaming -- there's visas to be gotten and budgets to be made, and money to be saved. But I've always told myself that when it comes to spending on myself, traveling and education are the two things I won't scrimp on. So I'll dream away for now, and hope that it will all happen. After all, when will I ever have four months to myself again?

Mediocrity

Warning: pessimistic post follows. . .

When asked what would be the one thing they would not want people to define them as, people say various things -- some say boring, others say ordinary, yet others say stupid or ugly. After much thought, I decided, relatively recently, that my undesirable quality of choice is mediocrity.

I've never been the smartest in my peer group, but not the dumbest either. I haven't been the best-looking, but not the worst either. And I haven't been the life of a party, but I haven't been the wallflower either. Under these circumstances, the tendency to slip into mediocrity has been ever-present, ready to drop at any minute.

And I've tried to battle it tooth and nail. Particularly career-wise, I've tried to stave off mediocrity by praying as hard as I could, working just as hard, and by taking chances that held the promise pf results that would remove me as far as possibile from any chance of slipping into mediocrity.

Now, moving away from mediocrity doesn't mean making millions or becoming famous or even being the absolute best in what you do -- at least not by my definition. Rather, it is living a life that makes a significant difference in the lives of others. And translating that into my chosen career, it means being a reporter who seeks the truth in areas I'm most passionate about, and exposing the way the less fortunate parts of the world live to the more privileged ones.

But lately, the question of whether it is possible to escape the mediocrity that has been hanging over you your whole life has been weighing on my mind. And with the latest blow that has succeeded in almost crushing me, my faith and my quest, I am almost convinced that one's own efforts are not enough to escape mediocrity. You can work harder than you've ever worked. You can force yourself out of your element, your comfort zone, into strange and confusing worlds. And you can endure all kinds of heartache in your quest.

But, despite your best efforts, I am almost convinced that the way your life turns out is beyond your control. At the end of the day, what matters is not always how hard you work (although it does make a difference when combined with other favorable factors) the career path you've chosen, the qualities you already possess -- a brilliant mind, for example -- and, ultimately, the colour of your passport.