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The life of a graduate student did not allow for too much living. Every minute of every hour was charted in my planner. Every meal was accompanied by a book and every hour of sleep was spent spooning my warm laptop.

It was the life I accepted so I would remain focused and accomplish what I was there to do. It was this life that held me back from many of the unique tastes and smells I was determined to experience during my trip back to Memphis.

First Mission: Eat Bugs

(Full disclosure: I do not know these people!!)

It’s hard to believe I avoided eating crawfish for two years. I recall multiple warm, moist summer days, when jazz would illuminate the hearts of neighbors and my roommates would head out the door with a cold one to enjoy one another at the all-day crawfish festivals.

I rolled up my sleeves for the first time while I was on my furlough trip.

The host of the crawfish boil welcomed me to the table and took the honor of plowing through the mound of crawfish with his bare hands, shifting the red mass to the right, then to the left, until a critter to his likings peeped out. He then demonstrated the task at hand.

A slight break of the wrist cracks the shell of the crawfish right below the head. Then you must make a decision about whether or not you were going to be the Rudy or the Zack Morris of the crowd.

If you decide to be the coolest kid in school, it’s now time to suck the head. After tossing the head, you can crack the remaining shell, releasing the shrimp-like meat inside.

The first batch I dug my hands into was quite the treat — 80 lbs to be exact. I am sad to report I did not suck the head. It was just a bit much for a northern girl. Maybe next time?

Nothing is Free at Central BBQ

TWHS anyways.

The delightful man behind the corner at Central BBQ was all smiles as he coached my former boss on what to order. Once again, I was experiencing one of the drool-worthy eateries in Memphis for the first time - as a tourist - not as a resident.

It was Friday and I was winding down from a ridiculously eventful couple of days. The weekend high extended until about Tuesday. It was nearly impossible to focus after the Saturday crawfish boil and Dave Matthews Band combination, not to mention the elote at Las Tortugas and chicken from Gus’s.

My boss chuckled with the cashier. The decision-making was left in his hands. After all, if he could keep me sane for a year, why couldn’t I trust him to order a chicken sandwich? He settled on a half-rack of dry ribs, macaroni and cheese and a pulled-chicken BBQ sandwich.

Meanwhile, I was shopping for gifts to take home, some of which the delightful man may or may not have given to me for free.

Ten minutes later, I was in a state of shock as I tried Central’s dry ribs for the first time. The tender meat boasted with intense flavor. The meat was literally falling off the bone. It hung on ever so slightly, just enough so you could still lift the bone by the corners and indulge.

It was amazing. My expectations are so high now I’ll never be brought back down.

If you ever find yourself in Memphis, please say hello to the team at Central BBQ. After entertaining the crew in simple conversation for a few minutes, find yourself a picnic table outside on the deck under one of the canopies and prepare yourself for a treat.

After an unexpected late night out at the Willard hotel celebrating my colleague’s birth anniversary, my voyage to Memphis was off to a delayed start. It was already midday and I was just putting the last bag in my Rubicon and tightening the black elastic straps to my canvas top so it wasn’t flapping around as I flew down the windy interstate.

For my second quarter furlough, I decided it would be best to take advantage of the time off in the biggest way possible, without spending any money. The first quarter furlough was less than impressive because my wallet was stolen the week before, causing me to spend the week off replacing my life.

After reading an article about furloughhouseswap.com, my friend in Memphis contacted me with more than a house to offer. If I could get to Memphis for my furlough, he said we could work together on a freelance project, which would give me more than enough money to get to Memphis and back.

It was amazing timing because the Beale Street Music Festival was only weeks away. However, it was a tough call because it had been SO long since I left the city and I had so many buried memories.

After contacting a few of my friends who were still in the area and landing two free tickets to the 3-day musicfest, I was more than convinced it was finally time for me to go back to Bluff City. Almost four years had passed since I turned my back on the city that opened its arms and reminded me what it meant to live again.

Why Memphis?

A month before college graduation in 2003, I received an email about a graduate program in Memphis. The program was less than attractive if you only considered the history of the program and the legacy. However, two pieces of information glistened in my inbox: the program would cost me nothing - they would actually pay me to get my masters if I assisted with their journalism program; and, to apply to the program, I did not have to confront the evil GRE. Only the MAT was required, which was $40 and I didn’t have to study! Again, very attractive to the poor, burnt-out college student.

It was the perfect plan B for me. After taking the MAT, I submitted my application, barely missing the deadline for the fall 2003 class. Then, I waited, and waited, and by July I had forgotten about the program, fallen in love with an 18-year-old (context: I was 22) and found my new found career as a retail manager.

Rewind. Say what?@!

The Random Call

When I received a phone call from Dr. Rick Fischer from the University of Memphis on my cell phone at 8 p.m. on one random hot and humid August evening, I knew this opportunity was different. No “thank you for applying” sealed letter. A phone call to my cell phone, a number I was certain I did not give out.

After a couple of questions, Dr. Fischer invited me to join the U of M Class of 2005 as a fellow to the journalism program. After I pulled my jaw back to my upper lip, I hung up the phone and digested what had just been offered.

A week later, I declined the fellowship because it just didn’t feel right yet and I was still hopeful I’d land a job as a reporter at one of the smaller dailies.

Spontaneous Combustion

Months later, it was November and I was still stocking and selling clothes at Ann Taylor. After working my third or fourth Sunday in a row, I walked into my manager’s office and asked if I could take a few days off to fly to Memphis. My reasoning was that I needed to visit campus if I were to attend the university in the fall of 2004.

After a quick 3-day visit, two weeks before the Spring semester began, I was packing my 2-door black Nissan to capacity and on my way to Memphis. It was the hug Dr. Fisher gave me when I arrived at the university for my visit; the amazing 100-year old house with a beautiful furnished room, and the best roommates ever, all for only $200 a month; and the brilliant smiles shared with everyone I met that convinced me Memphis was meant to be. It was just too easy.

For the next 16 months, I would live life like never before. There is something about that place that lifts your spirit and opens your eyes to what really matters. After years of living the status game and attending over-achiever boot camp, I found myself in a place that welcomed hard work and embraced brilliant minds, yet, in the most simple, spiritual way, also embraced living in a way most of my friends and family would not recognize.

How Did I Survive?

Every morning, five days a week, I ate my peanut butter bagel and studied, then worked 8 hours at The Commercial Appeal. At 5 o’clock, I raced to class with my laptop open in the passenger seat so I could study for my daily quiz. When class was over, I spent some time at the gym, finally making my way back home around 10 p.m., at which point I began studying again and writing term papers.

Revisiting this life weighs extremely heavy on my heart. It was a ridiculously focused and admirable time in my life. On the contrary, it was also an extremely self-centered, cold and heartless time in my life. During these 16 months, I was lifted up by the community around me and owe those individuals my life and success story. I also owe those individuals an apology for being so focused on me I forgot to pay it forward.

It was for this reason, my trip to Memphis a few weeks ago was such a contradiction. I was so happy to be able to enjoy the company of those that literally carried me to the finish line, yet, I was also heartbroken and embarrassed that I didn’t show my gratitude and affection towards them as much as I should have when I lived there.

Friends in Memphis, thank you for changing my life — twice. I look forward to the next time you will be able to teach me to live again.

Avery Bishop: There is a sensitivity thing that some people have. I don’t have it. I don’t cry at movies, I don’t gush over babies, I don’t buy Christmas presents 5 months early, and I DON’T tell the guy who just ruined both our lives, “Oh, poor baby.” But I do love you.

Everything thing you bring forth comes through pain. If it didn’t come through pain, it probably wasn’t worth much.
– TD Jakes

Most journalists are familiar with the Jeff Jarvis one-sheet.

To his credit, the linked economy does appear to be silencing the portal pages of the world, unless there is another underlying force. Young journalists need to learn how to join this ecosystem before they are kicked out the doors of Amazing University Hall and onto the front steps of the We Didn’t Learn About that In College Club.

The journalist toolbox must now extend beyond the gathering of facts and distribution of information. Journalists must also know what platform makes sense for that particular piece of information - print, web or mobile; what vehicle to distribute it with - text, photos or video; and how to reach the intended audience - syndication, portability, partnerships, social media, SEO and SEM.

The above addresses newsroom situations we encounter daily, which often result in duplication and inefficiencies in storytelling. What it doesn’t address is the other challenge journalists are struggling with as resources are cut and high-priority is placed on cross-training journalists on writing, videography and photography.

What is “good enough” when it comes to photo and video? Are journalists expected to understand the concept, the art, and the techniques, as well as, be able to execute at any moment in time? Is it “good enough” know when to hand the keys over to the designated driver?

“At CUNY we teach every student to do audio, video, blogging, live-blogging, use Twitter,” Jarvis said in The Washington Post opinion piece.

This statement seems to suggest every journalist should know how to drive every vehicle. I have to wonder what impact this is having on the training of the journalists. How is this changing the way journalism programs are structured? Is it watering down the experience, instead of illuminating the strength of each individual?

The answers to these questions are still being debated at a higher-level. However, in the meantime, if there is an ecosystem, a videographer should feel comfortable relying on the nutrients of others in the newsroom and in the community to provide context to a visual piece. The reverse is also true.

As universities iterate on the programs, and attempt to predict the future, I hope they will keep this in mind so we can focus on the fact gathering, which is the ultimate job.

Elizabeth Bennet: If he cannot percieve her regard, he is a fool.
Charlotte Lucas: We are all fools in love.

For a company that “believes the power of the Internet lies not in the technology, but in it its strategic use,” The Bivings Group isn’t giving much thought to how Yammer can help support its internal communications.

In a post today, The Bivings Group (TBG) calls Yammer pointless and a little sketchy. My company is coincidentally giving Yammer a spin right now so this peaked my interest. Today I experienced the first “ahha” moment.

As mentioned in today’s post by TBG, Yammer’s functionality is very similar to Twitter. The key differences are its secret handshake entry and its ability to create public or private groups once you’ve gained access to your Yammer circle.

To access my company’s network, you must have a company email account, however, once you’re in, you are free to create a profile, create groups, upload files and annoy your coworkers. Our network includes 85 newspapers and 23 broadcast stations plus numerous other technology groups that are often working towards the same goal but often way too busy to respond to email and often not in the same building - or state!

The “Ahha” Moment

A network like Yammer assists in innovation when you have tweeple-like conversation amongst like-minded individuals working towards a common goal. Just as with Twitter, people feed off of each other and iterate in real time.

Each day, my coworkers that drank the Yammer Kool-Aid, update their “status” on Yammer and let the company know what they are working on at that moment. Today, a developer in Cincinnati was discussing a new RSS string he was hoping to experiment with in the coming days. This peaked the interest of someone on the network from Des Moines. From there, the ideas started flowing.

No email. No voicemail. No meetings about meetings. Only ideas and innovation.

The main takeaway - as with any social network - is that you must be connecting two communities that wouldn’t otherwise be able to rally around a topic or project in such a seamless fashion. This sort of community might not make sense for The Bivings Group because they are a smaller company, but I wouldn’t write it off forever. There’s something genius about only allowing your coworkers 140 characters to explain an idea.

Last Sunday was the Credit Union Cherry Blossom 10-Mile Run. It was my first 10-miler and I finished in 1:39:24, which was right on par with my goal of under 1:40:00.

Before the race, Millie Gratzl, Linda Vo and I waited in the porta potty line for what seemed like forever. Victoria Kurak made the wise move to escape this madness and warm-up for the race. However, Victoria did miss the hilarious comment from the man in line and the absolutely disgusting toilet seat Millie encountered.

I’ll save the toilet seat story for a later date. The comment from the man in line was along the lines of, “Oh, I thought this was the line for the start of the race.” After reading that comment you can probably start to imagine how long the porta potty line was. Linda later told me she was freaking out about the line although she was 100 percent calm while we waited.

Millie Gratzl and I ran most of the race together. She is officially my pace car and I can’t wait to run another race with her. She kept me on pace in the beginning and I kept her moving at the end. It made the race more enjoyable to have someone by my side, which was strange because I love running alone. We had just met that morning and by the end of the day we were talking about what race we were signing up for next.

The best part of the race was the post-race mimosa. The group headed to brunch at Whitlows and celebrated a great finish, the amazing weather and great friends.

In recent days, the Chicago Tribune and Editor & Publisher reported on the creation of furlough house swap, which was co-founded by Jodi Gersh and muah.

As they do in the South, I must first extend my gratitude for recognizing the value of the site and for the kind words about the innovative idea. Steve Johnson discovered the story only hours after Gersh and I tweeted out the idea, so it was only natural he would contact his source by tweeting back. He has been following me ever since.

When I read the Tribune story, my eyes immediately focused on the inline twitter link that was in the third graph. After clicking on it, I quickly realized this was one of those automagically-generated links.

My expectation was that the link would take me to the original tweet about #furloughhouseswap or to the search string. When I was sent to a topics page that had little relevance, I was disappointed for two reasons. First, the link would add context to the story and allow the readers to dig deeper. Second, you’re writing about a Web site - at least link to the site!!!

Editor & Publisher - ditto.

Before you get angry because I’m overreacting and you have no resources, let me tell you about my former life. For five(ish) years, I was the person that had to create the deep links from your stories and add relevant context. I know it was tedious, but it sure felt like it was worth it. So, I’m allowed to criticize, especially if I say God bless afterward.

Steve and Joe, please add a link to the site and God bless!

When your company tells you to take a week off, unpaid, you can moan and fret. Or you can do what some employees of the Gannett media chain have done and make the most of it.

Facing a second one-week “furlough” this year, “it came to our mind that we have 85 newspapers and 23 broadcast stations, and everyone is going to be in the same situation,” said Laura Cochran, a content manager at Gannett Digital in Arlington, Va.

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