Crash Landing

The below song was the result of a good old-fashioned jam sesh back in 2008 (aka, the Undergrad years). My friend John and I came up with a theme, then ran with it; I’ll never love my voice on my digital tape recorder, but I like the song. I hope you like it, too. And more than anything, it makes me miss writing lyrics.

Car Crash
music and gee-tar, John Farrar; lyrics and voice, Alexa Lash

We pulled up to the traffic light
She looked left and I looked right
And that began that fateful night
Fateful night for me

Slowly left the brake alone
I wouldn’t have if I had known
These bodies aren’t made of stone
Strong enough for me

But I couldn’t stop staring at lights
Spinning and spinning in red and in whites
And I held the world in the depths of my eyes
But I couldn’t see

But I couldn’t stop staring at lights
Spinning and spinning as they passed me by
Praying that I’d stay along for the ride
but my will wasn’t free

I clutched hard onto the wheel
Relearning how the leather feels
I couldn’t face what felt unreal
I didn’t want to see

And she sat with that fear in her eyes
I’d never seen that look before
And then it wasn’t about my life
anymore
It didn’t matter anymore

But I couldn’t stop staring at lights
Spinning and spinning in red and in whites
And I held the world in the depths of my eyes
But I couldn’t see

But I couldn’t stop staring at lights
Spinning and spinning as they passed me by
Praying that I’d stay along for the ride
but my will wasn’t free

But I couldn’t stop staring at lights
Spinning and spinning in red and in whites
And I held the world in the depths of my eyes
But I couldn’t see

But I couldn’t stop staring at lights
Spinning and spinning as they passed me by
Praying that I’d stay along for the ride
but my will wasn’t free

but my will wasn’t free

And I couldn’t see

And I couldn’t see

One for the Money

Here’s a little gem from high school. The song was written for a class project about economics and so my classmate and I wrote a little ditty about the importance of creating a financial plan. This is a recording of a recording (once we went from tape recorders to digital ones I wanted to make sure I didn’t lose this). I’m probably 16 when I’m singing this. I wrote the lyrics and my friend Johann played the guitar. We both came up with the melody.

Econ Song

Every day you gotta try and follow the right path.
You don’t need no excuses, you just gotta do the math
and break away from a desperate future.

Time is passing by so fast I’m trying to be sincere.
You can’t save up your money yet until your plan is clear.
Just lead the way to a better future.

I don’t know exactly where I’ve been inside my mind.
The acting of spending money’s from within, I’m way behind.
I’m lost, I’m broke, I should have made a plan to lead the way.
All I had to do was understand.

But living life just right you’ll always find a way to win.
Just think of what you need and what you want and then begin.
Take my advice, for an easy future.

I don’t know exactly where I’ve been inside my mind.
The acting of spending money’s from within, I’m way behind.
I’m lost, I’m broke, I should have made a plan to lead the way.
All I had to do was understand.

But I didn’t understand I just lived on inside my head.
Dreams of what I wanted now are gone, buried and dead.
I should have thought to save what I had earned and held it tight.
All I had to do was understand

The moral of the story is to think about today,
and think up a financial plan so you can find a way
to find a path, your own direction.

I don’t know exactly where I’ve been inside my mind.
The act of spending money’s from within, I was behind
I was lost and broke, but now I made a plan to fall upon.
For once in life I finally understand.
For once in life I finally understand.
For once in life I finally understand.

Falling Like Icarus

For the next week or so I will be posting some of my old music from undergraduate and the summer just before I left. The below song is special because it was: 1) NOT about love and 2) written and recorded on a slow day at Subway (one of the four I worked at during a four-year period). I like that it’s raw, and I like that it reminds me of home. The male who provided his voice, who wrote the melody, well, I can’t remember his name now, but maybe he’ll find me again (oh, the Internet). The song is about Icarus, one of my favorite myths next to Atlas. I hope you like it, and try not to judge too, too much on my vocals. Lyrics are below. I was probably 17 when I wrote and sang this.

Way to Fly

Lyrics, by Me

Give me a chance to make it right
See the Icarus of flight
I am falling, falling down
Melted wings attract the ground

Soar, I feel me through the air
Heat, the sun is hard to bear
as I am burning, burning down
there is no one to save me now

Everyone’s in search of a natural high
Everyday I pave the way for a newer way to fly

And I am just the changing wind,
a freer bird than the moment I was uncaged to the world
and I can feel the motion of the clouds of our lives

And I am just a winding road, a forking path
the endless turns that make life sad
when time takes vision from our eyes

Musical break

Everyone’s in search of a natural high
Everyday I pave the way for a newer way of flight

And I am just the changing wind,
a freer bird than the moment I was uncaged to the world
and I can feel the motion of the clouds of our lives

And I am just the winding road, the forking path
the endless turns that make life sad
when time takes vision from our eyes

And I am just the changing wind,
a freer bird than the moment I was uncaged to the world
and I can feel the motion of the clouds of our lives

And I am just the winding road, the forking path
the endless turns that make life sad
when time takes vision from our eyes

And I am just the winding road, the forking path
the endless turns that make life sad
when time takes vision from our eyes

So You Graduated. Now What?

I create, design, and write for the Emerson College Journalism Department’s newsletter. Below is an article I wrote about what journalism students should do to get a job after they graduate for our most recent issue (April/May 2012).

The designed page:

So You Graduated. Now What?
By Alexa Lash

Whether you dread or embrace graduation doesn’t matter; you’re graduating. But being a journalist should be a comfort: you’re good at research, you know how to talk to people, how to network; and the jobs you are applying for aren’t the regular 9-to-5s (for the most part). But like any good article, your next steps after graduation require an outline, quotes, and attention to detail. You must attack your post-grad life with equal ardor. The story of your life is too significant not to make a front page. As a recent graduate, here are a few tips for what to start doing now that you’ve flown the educational coop.

Clip It Together
You should be saving every piece you publish, and highlighting your best pieces in an online portfolio. For broadcast students, make sure your reel is clean, organized, and showcases your best work. If you don’t already have one, consider creating a website with links to your reel, print/electronic portfolio, and resume. You could also add a blog element to showcase more of your writing (but don’t make this your only writing sample).

Get Connected
Find out from your professors if they know someone who’s hiring (your professors are a valuable resource when it comes to getting a job). Attend alumni events, and bring your business card when you’re going to meet visiting speakers and students. Trade contact information with classmates and keep in touch—you never know who will be your next coworker, or even your boss. Keep connected on a professional network like LinkedIn. Attend conferences and networking events with desired employers.

See the Sites
The dedicated job-seeker should be visiting sites with frequent journalism job postings such as mediabistro.com. Follow job sites on Twitter and Facebook. Visit the employment section of companies you want to work for.

Do Your Post-Grad Homework
If you want to work somewhere specific, or you want to pitch a story to a particular publication, get to know the names of your editors. Use an online resource or a directory such as Bacons Media Directory (available at the Emerson Library). Become familiar with the style and content of the company you’re contacting—employers take notice of a good journalist who’s done his/her research.

Think Small
You may not come out of school with your dream job at a big company, but you do have ways of getting to it. Don’t be afraid to work for a small publication or network. Oftentimes, you’ll end up doing more types of work, and end up with more diversified experience than other candidates you’re up against when applying at a large publication.

Practice, Practice, Practice
Write in a blog, take video of an event, but don’t stop using the skills you learned in college. You want to remain active with your journalism skills. Doing this can also lead to stories you may want to pitch in a cover letter, or to a publication as a freelance piece.

Master Your Skills
If you’re graduating as an undergraduate, don’t rule out getting your Master’s degree. This is a great tactic in finding a specialization (such as science journalism), and an effective tool if you want to later teach Journalism.

From Drafts to Riches

I’m not, by profession, a designer, but I think the process across all creative genres is essentially the same: you have an idea, you plot it out, then you make it reality. If my design skills were more expert, there would have been loads more I would have perfected in the below poster. But I think, as far as coming up with a whiteboard idea, the actual product pretty much represented what was mapped out.

The Whiteboard session with fellow Emersonian Admin Extraordinaire Tess Fallon.


 
The finished product

An Editor’s Work is Not Quite Never Done

I create, design, and write for the Emerson College Journalism Department’s newsletter. Below is an article I wrote about editing for our most recent issue (February/March 2012).

The designed page:

An Editor’s Work is Not Quite Never Done
By Alexa Lash

Despite the fact I’m out of college, it doesn’t mean I’ve stopped writing and editing; I live by the credo that a paper without edit marks is just words on a page. You need to look back at what you’ve written, to breathe grammatical life into unedited sentences. And if you find yourself in need of ideas, I have a few editing tips that may work for you as they’ve worked for me.

Louder, Please
Reading your work out loud, whether alone, in front of an audience, or to a tape recorder, is important for more than finding repetitive points. You can pick up double words, misspellings, missing words, and tone; flawed logic and weak points. And if you find yourself saying, “I wouldn’t really say that, would I?” then reading out loud has helped you find your voice, too. It’s one of the easiest tricks to self editing, and something I still do with everything from texts and tests, to short stories.

Time Heals All Wounds
Sometimes you need a little distance from your work. If you have the time, or even if you don’t, set down your work for an hour or a few days. Distancing yourself from your writing helps you come back to it with a keener editing eye. You’ll likely see what you would have missed if you’d edited while you wrote.

Book Smarts
Keep your stylebooks close at hand (the real editors do it, so why shouldn’t you?). Some of the texts I have include the 2011 AP Stylebook, the 16th edition of the Chicago Manual of Style, Einsohn’s The Copyeditor’s Handbook, and a dictionary and thesaurus (if you’re not near a computer).

Help Me, Seymore
Don’t ever be afraid to ask for help. Another pair of eyes on your work can be equally, if not more effective than giving your piece distance. Help can range from your college writing center, to a professor or a classmate. Be wary when you ask for your friend’s help; you’ll want an unbiased eye to look at your writing.

Practice Makes Sort Of Perfect
Practice editing and good writing beyond the work you do for school: edit your emails, find mistakes in the newspaper, etc. Offer to edit work for other people.

A Pen of a Different Color
When you’re editing your work, or having a friend edit, pick a pen color that doesn’t terrify you. Red is such a strong color; picking an alternate hue, like purple, will ease the stress and be less of a burden to look at if there are a lot of edits needed on a page.

Three Strikes
You should be editing your work more than once. You can do different types of editing to multiple drafts, or split your editing between local (line-by-line) and global (major aspects such as overall theme and focus) types. If you look at your draft once and think it’s perfect, at least hand it over to another person to see if it’s clean copy. You’d be surprised with what you miss.

Avoid the Easy
As wonderful as programs like Word are, you shouldn’t depend on them. Homophones and dual spellings can be overlooked. And if you use fragments for effect, it’ll keep marking those statements incorrect. Once you know the rules of grammar, breaking them can be OK, with care.

Reflect the Possibilities
This tip is one I learned from a leadership program. Put your goals on a mirror: editing goals, what grade you’re going for. Having what you want written out helps you get the work done, and pushes you harder to achieve those goals if you see them every morning when you brush your teeth (or so we hope).

To Each His Own

In an effort to continually practice writing, here is an on-the-spot about possession:

If you’re under the impression,
that he is your man,
understand,
you cannot have him,
he is not yours,
he’ll call you, yes, if he’s bored
or wanting of something,
the kind of thing
that stopped making young girls blush
in 2007,
when there existed a rush
for maturity,
but his honesty, in state of obscurity,
is indeed obscured,
(trust me, I tried for years to have him cured)
until I learned that I could love him,
but could not have him,
not completely,
not neatly wrapped in clover like a heart,
lying more an art
not yours, not mine,
simply him.

To each and everything, his own
and I should have known
better,
I should have learned,
faster,
but I thought he was mine.
I thought he loved me.

And maybe he did.
Who am I kidding to think I know him
well enough to say he cannot belong to both of us,
and whoever comes next,

who’s to say he’s not just in it for the sex,
or that he loves you,
and that he’s yours,

until he finds me again,
as my man always does.

With Love

On January 3, 2004 (I was 16) I wrote:

“Love with lust is passion
Love with faith is religion
Love with heart is belief
Love with words is seduction
Love with money is greed
Love with ache is remembrance
Love with meaning is unknown
Love with truth is forgotten
Love with consequence is war”

I think 16-year-old me had a point: love is in all things, and in all things, love.

What 16-year-old me forgot:
Love with trust…love with honesty…love with sadness…love with lies.

There are a lot more (but don’t tell her that). I have chosen not to fill in those blanks because, to tell you the truth, I have no idea what they should be. When you’re 16, you think you know what the world is like; but let me tell you, I’m 24 and I have no clue what it’s all about—unless you’re a HUGE fan of the hokey pokey and then it’s only about one thing (still not sure on the specifics).

An on-the-spot poem about being 16:

Dad,
stop telling me what time
I should come home,
because I’m already old enough
to drive,

almost old enough,
to drink—
overseas—

and definitely old enough
to fall in love.

And Dad,
I won’t come home
singing about keeping
my baby
because I’m responsible enough
to say no
until I’m ready,

smart enough,
to say no
when he says, “please”

and definitely old enough
to say no,
when he says,
“But I love you.”

And when you say,
but you’re not old enough to know love

then I’ll say,
without hesitation,
“I love you.”

And you’ll let me stay out,
an extra half hour.

Sentenced

When someone gives me an idea, I can’t help but react by being happy about it. For once, I have an excuse to procrastinate. None of this deadline stuff; just a friend, an idea, and a potential piece of mediocre to fabulous writing.

So this is the idea: pressure on sentences.

And this is the friend: Monty [Montague] Kaplan (see photo).

I have dubbed the following “Under Pressure” simply because I love Queen. The pun, well, that just worked out in the end.

Under Pressure

I loved the way she looked at me, her eyes peeking above and below me, stumbling their way unabashedly back to the middle, touching a finger under words like “sexy” and “anneal.” She lingered there, breathing in, then out as she exited from a phrase with a semicolon; and I lay there without words, panting hyperbolic. Moments like these make my life worthwhile. I’ve been used, interrupted, even cut short sometimes, but for a sentence, this is to be expected. What hurts most is when your life is punctuated—taken from a complex thing to a simple phrase often overlooked. A supporting role in the theater of a page. Enter stage right, then die quietly like Villager #4.

At least that goddamn fragment is getting some action. Look at him, tucked between an exclamation point and a period. And I thought the thesis statement had it good over in academics. I wanted to be introductory, conclusive. Anything but stuck in the middle, between some overgrown, puffed up metaphor (much like a cloud), and then some silly little nothing of a thought. It even started with the word “therefore.” For God’s sake, THEREFORE? What are you, Shakespeare? I was supposed to be something, something special. She wrote me down in a little notepad and screamed out, “this’ll be my masterpiece”—I’m telling you, it was deafening. And I could feel pride fill me up like soda up a bottle after you shake it. Me. A sentence. An important sentence. Up there with the greats like “Call me Ishmael.” That dude Herman Melville knew how important it was to make a sentence feel loved. But what do I get? I get shifted, almost crossed out with a red pen. I inspired this piece, my nouns and verbs the muses to the writer. She used to linger.

She rewrote me, revised me. And my heart, in ellipses…suddenly stopped beating.

How to Be a Real Boy

Here is a new on-the-spot. I’ve been reading the Unwritten comic book series, and so I’ve had story-telling and literary figures on my mind more often than usual. Below is my twist on the Pinocchio story, plus one of my really awful attempts at accompanying art.

How to Be a Real Boy

Let’s just say your nose
was so long it started making people
feel uncomfortable,
you know,
because it reminded them of something
they wanted to be doing,
like telling the truth,
or something a little bit
harder,
like,
like,
well you can figure that out.

Let’s just say,
that you wanted to be a real boy
so badly,
that you were willing to cut your strings
early on,
gesticulating with your wooden hands,
and trying to give the center finger,
but failing to do so
because you cut it off
by accident.

The other puppets laughed,
their lungs filled with wood dust
and their mouths shaved and whittled into a perfect O
as if surprise were more common
than the elongation of smoothed probosces,
meant to be the width of a button,
meant to extend no longer than
a pen.

But your nose comes standard; truth instead, your prosthetic limb.

When your snout began to produce branches,
(the result of lies leading to more lies)
birds started to roost, chirping as birds do,
spreading your stories in song.

And so you became the teller of stories,
your feet planting seeds into the earth,
your nose ceasing its growth,
no longer able to distinguish
between lie and truth.