This is where I want to be

Today could have not gone more smoothly than I expected. After taking the train to Philly and being able to go to the museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, and then catching the Amtrack to D.C., I literally had the most amazing day ever. I wandered the streets of D.C. to the Newseum, right off of Pennsylvania Avenue (hmmmm, ironic) and spent 20 dollars for a ticket, which at first I found to be outrageous, but realized it was worth every penny.

The entire display was incredible. I only made it through half the exhibit, catching the FBI display where we learned about the coverage of criminals over history, the Berlin Wall, the display of famous front pages in history (capturing rare photos of the 'Dewey beats Truman' newspaper), and the 4-D movie that took you through famous events in Journalistic history.

The entire museum made me proud to be a part of Journalism. It reassured that this is what I should be doing and that I would love every second of my career.

But there were two exhibits that moved me to tears. The first was the Pulitzer Prize display, which captured photos from crisies from around the world. The emotion these photographs conveyed were overwhelming, and I found myself wiping my eyes when no one was looking. I love it when museums do this, because it assures me that this exhibit is a good work of art.

The second exhibit that made me cry was the September 11th display. The room itself was small, as it had a wall devoted to front pages from that day, as well as in the center the broadcast tower that was once on one of the buildings. But what killed me was the video they put together. It was a documentary about journalists who were there that day, and how they covered the story and how they reacted. One group got an interview with a woman before the second tower fell, and she was describing how people were jumping and was just crying. And on film, the journalist cried too.

Watching this footage brought me back to that day. I can still remember every moment. I was in 8th grade, and right after the first tower was hit, a message over the intercom came on. My friend Kiersten's face turned a milky white and her jaw dropped. I missed the announcement, as I rarely paid attention to anything, and ended up being sent downstairs to watch the live broadcast from a small TV in the cafeteria. I saw the second tower get hit live, and saw them both collapse before my very eyes. Parents later complained about letting us watch this, but I was glad I did.

When I got home I watched the footage all night. It was addicting, I wanted updates. I think it was then that I realized that I could make a profession out of this.

With all this emotion running through me, I had to leave. I cried, composed myself, and headed back onto the streets to meet up with my friends.

There is a large group of RWU kids staying with Amanda, so we went out for drinks and dinner. It was nice to see everyone, and the dinner was not too bad in price. After, we stopped at the store to get food for the next few days, and then headed back to Amanda's apartment, where I spent the rest of my night.

I'd write more, but my arm hurts, so I will leave my writing for the morning.

Peace and love,
Gaga