Amanda Serfozo

January 18, 2012 10:28 pm

The Times’ Arthur Brisbane posed a question last week that had keyboards blazing.

“Should the Times be a truth vigilante?”

The important thing is not to take the question at face value — a metaphor unto itself.

(It was appended later that day to clarify that the question at hand was not whether the media should chase the truth, but rather if it is an obligation of a journalist to rebut false statements.)

Mr. Brisbane’s first inquiry delves right into the gut of journalism ethics, and a larger question of personal and press integrity. Do journalists have the wherewithal to know when to set the record straight in the case of rampant campaign soundbites, and further, do they have the tools (i.e. education, resources) to do so? This trickles down into so many secondary questions: are journalism schools the answer? How do you ‘teach’ journalism anyway? How would we go about writing the rebuttal delicately but willfully, so as not to promote bias?

In considering the troves of blog posts and comments related to this question, it occurred to me that an important distinction begs recognition.

There is a wildly marked and vast difference between the titles of a journalist and a reporter. Using them interchangeably isn’t entirely accurate, and has mislead me for years — until this piece finally clarified the difference without even trying.

We need reporters to deliver news objectively, reporting (there it is!) verbatim the happenings and goings on of local entities. Reactionary quotes. Human interest pieces. Arts and entertainment. Natural disasters. Community perspectives. Essentially, reporters serve as the necessary, informative intermediary between a people and their papers, no interpretation necessary. It seems that the majority of reporters take on a more local flair; I would say this is mostly true.

We need journalists to deliver news objectively, but responsibly. For the love of God, fact check statements before they even leap off the notebook and into the typed document. When a story becomes more than just a national disaster — when it starts to evolve into a public official’s quotes on disaster relief funding, an organization’s degree of aid, or a claim made by a Senator — you’ll know whether to act as a reporter or a journalist.

Verify a source’s credibility. Use off the record information from anonymous sources sparingly, and when necessary, interject when a stump speech goes off the rails into false territory. We need journalists to be public servants, ombudsmen who understand the difference between organic free speech and erratic, unchecked statements before they even make it to the presses. Honest, dogged journalists are savvy filters — not talking heads. They quietly verify a piece of information from a credible source, they consult their editors, and they cut the fat on erroneous information that could go awry in the hands of the blogosphere, or 24-hour news cycle.

But most importantly, while the responsibility falls on the desks of reporters and journalists to do their jobs, editors are the ones that ultimately need to be at the helm. Grill (yes, grill — are we too politically correct to say it?) your journalists when necessary. Take an austere and ruthless approach to digging for public records. Hell, use phonebooks once in a blue moon! Request that the Library of Congress pull parchment for you. Call the resident newsroom fact checker to confirm a piece of information on a lede. Find old papers from the archives to match the Now with the Then. While the internet is an abundant cornucopia of information, it isn’t flawless. Don’t be afraid to get ink on your fingertips. Just wash them before you touch your iPad again.

The profession of journalism is in danger. After all, it’s a job duty with a split personality. Not for the faint of heart when your name is sitting on the byline.

Despite what the Internet revenue race may say, I bet the candid truth would sell harder, garner attention faster, and yes, sometimes displease the country stronger than half-truths ever could.

Time for a gut check.

January 7, 2012 4:23 pm

Yoga. Mmm.

I’ve been practicing yoga, in some ways, since I was tiny. Dance classes — ballet, tap, jazz, contemporary — were the focus of my life after dinnertime for over thirteen years.

There’s a place you go to in dance, much like there is in yoga. Donning leggings and ballet slippers is a cognitive cue that you’re entering a place that requires a strong core and squared shoulders, the way entering that certain Panera Bread in Atlanta is a cognitive cue that I’m about to do some serious uninterrupted studying for a few hours. Lately, slipping on these Lululemon crops have whispered to my mind that it’s time to calm down for a bit, to take a backseat and to let intuition guide my body into the places it wants to go. After several sun salutations, triangle inversions, and scorpion poses, I’m feeling limber and fortified. Accomplishment.

For me, some poses come easily. Warrior pose, for instance, is a huge favorite. The muscles in my thighs (hello, legs that will never be truly skinny thanks to so much of the aforementioned dance!) know exactly what to do in that type of extension, and my torso and arms extend into the old familiar strength of a demi-plié. But other poses, like the Warrior III (an advanced Vinyasa style), are difficult to move into — my right hip is used to moving into an action packed sequence, not a long stretch, and I often have to stop, center, and rebalance.

At that point, it becomes a mental challenge, and that’s half the benefit. While I was in D.C., I took a few particularly memorable Bikram (hot yoga) classes in the midst of one of the most intense heat waves on record, where temperatures soared to 116° one day. By the time I left, the hardwood floor was soaked with the sweat of two dozen yogis, and I felt pretty lightheaded. (Okay, so maybe Bikram in the middle of a heatwave is NOT the smartest thing, and I wouldn’t recommend it to most.)

But damn, pushing myself to stop being aware of the heat and concentrating on the sequence felt amazing. So did that first blast of air when I finally left the studio. Awareness.

There are a lot of yoga enthusiasts out there who come off as haughty in their practice, and that’s understandably a turn-off for many. On the other hand, I’ve tried very hard not to be an evangelist of yoga, as much as I believe in its ability to bring serious clarity to those who actively participate…

…but there’s something about going into your zone for that hour, just like it is for dancers, gymnasts, professional golfers, quarterbacks, welders, mechanics…really, any type of work that requires intense focus and a quieting of the mind in order to reach such flow. It’s full immersion, an intrinsic state where you find your mental footing.

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, a Hungarian psychologist, theorized that as one becomes entrenched in the segments of a task, we enter several “fragments” before reaching what Buddhists might call enlightenment, or for the rest of us, a state of epiphany, a “eureka!” moment, or a “runner’s high”. Often, apathy turns into worry, and worry becomes anxiety when the mind is allowed to wander freely without control. This is the place in which most of us live, day-to-day. With yoga, that first stretch on the mat becomes a state of arousal, turning into a state of flow with each swan dive that becomes a downward dog. As the poses become easier with repetition, immersion takes over, and the mind’s motherboard takes a backseat to allow the body to direct the course of motion. Control turns to relaxation, and as we enter savasana (considered to be the most difficult pose by some, the ability to lie still and relax every muscle from eyebrows to toes), relaxation turns to clarity, and clarity turns into invigoration. (Finding Flow, 1997) Coming out of savasana is something that can hardly be explained, but I often compare to rising from a restful night’s sleep.

I just came out of my savasana a few moments ago, and was inspired to write this post with a clear mind. Since I’m home for winter break right now, I’ve been taking several classes in Vinyasa, Ashtanga, and Kripalu yoga at my local studio a few times a week. I’m so excited to get back to Emory and begin classes there — I have a feeling it’s going to do wonders to find my flow in the midst of academics again :)

December 30, 2011 11:43 am

“Get the transportation right,” said Hall. “Then let things happen.”

(via The City Solution - Pictures, More From National Geographic Magazine)

December 27, 2011 11:15 am

(via Well, This Statistic Ought To Put The ‘Facebook Is Killing Email’ Meme In Perspective)

December 21, 2011 12:08 pm

I got to thinking last night, probably way too late for my own good, about novelty. You know, that crazy proverbial flag-on-the-moon, conquistador-inching-up-on-new-lands, disheveled-mad-scientist-in-a-secret-lab type of thing.

In a nutshell ― what makes for newness in discovery and innovation.

I had a couple questions: does originality truly exist in the way that I’ve been thinking of it, requiring an “untouched frontier” when it comes to creative innovation? Really, can anything be so groundbreaking, so novel, so out of our peripheral vision that its unveil would truly change the operation of our world? Are those inventors I just mentioned unique themselves or are they enhancing some blueprint left by another forefather?

Let’s take the case of Gunpei Yokoi. Riding the train to work, Yokoi watched a man fiddle with an LCD calculator for fun, when the idea dawned on him ― how could he fuse the wildly popular “arcade style” games of the 80s and 90s with the ease of portability and independent play? A few prototypes (and many failures, including the Virtual Boy) later, the GameBoy was born.

So would we call Yokoi creative? Certainly. Original? In some ways. The raw materials he used to create the device ― plastic buttons, 3.5 mm headphone jack, external rechargeable battery, a rainbow of microchips — weren’t his inventions in the least. The ‘screws and nails’, so to speak, were mutually exclusive to the idea. If it weren’t for Yokoi selectively picking out those parts for that product, it wouldn’t exist.

And therein lies what I think is a new distinction: authentic originality. Just like you didn’t hatch the eggs or milk the cow, that delicious chocolate cake is all yours, even if you didn’t write the recipe.

To be honest, I was completely annoyed by the notion that all the good ideas were taken when it comes to newness. Everything’s been done before! Where can we leave our dent in the universe! And it dawned on me ― save digging in a quarry for some alien mineral, “reinventing the wheel” isn’t so bad. Actually, not bad at all if you consider the hundreds and hundreds of re-inventors like Steve Jobs or even Eli Whitney. Instead of tweaking (this word is way too close to Twinkies by the way, so I won’t use it often), authentic originality is a personally rendered enhancement rather than the ripping-off I had previously seen it as.

And therein lies the novelty only uniqueness can bring.

“Wherever you may find the inventor, you may give him wealth or you may take from him all that he has; and he will go on inventing. He can no more help inventing that he can help thinking or breathing.”

― Alexander Graham Bell

December 19, 2011 3:14 pm

A beautiful-looking travel camera for those spontaneous shots that don’t allow for much fiddling. I love SLRs and delicate lenses, but if it can’t fit in my back pocket, I’ll be using it rarely.

(via Nikon 1 J1 Camera | Compact Camera System)

December 19, 2011 1:23 am

Hello again big, beautiful world :)

Another semester is over, and another winter break has begun. I posted the sticky note below before classes began this August, as an apropos “away message”, and took my own advice in the interim. Suffice it to say — it’s definitely working in my favor so far. I love being humbled and from that humbling, encouraged to reach a greater potential.

I pulled into my (literally) freezing driveway back home in Philadelphia this evening, with tons of blog post ideas and general brain chatter, inspired by Merlin Mann, the Vienna RSS reader I just snatched, and the Zite iPad app I’ve been swooning over this fall.

So — expect newness.

Let’s get back at it, shall we?

/@amandaserfozo