I went to go sit down at the bar counter in between band sets to grab another half-priced beer from the advertised Taco Tuesday deal. I dug inside my black vegan leather jacket to stuff my phone in one of the tiny pockets and asked the bartender to add another beverage to my tab. I squeezed juice from the fresh wedge of lime that hung onto the rim of the of my glass into the chilled Corona and gazed around at the group of people loudly chatting away. I was there to get some photos for a couple of the bands that I covered in a few of the articles that I wrote for an online publication. It was late to be out here on a work night, and I was already exhausted from the long day of editing and scheduling content. However, my tune changed after hearing from the person who slid into the bar stool next to mine.Continue reading “How Storytelling Will Save The World”→
I really wasn’t supposed to take any articles other than Opinion’s pieces at my school’s newspaper, The Poly Post, this quarter, but one of the other writers had nudged me to pick up a small Lifestyle piece on a LGBTQ themed art gallery. I figured that I would take the extra story along with the Opinion’s piece that I already had. My classes weren’t giving as much work as they normally would have and so I left the meeting with my digital recorder and note pad in tow.
I walked into the Bronco Student Center on campus searching for the art gallery that I believed was to be held in room 2325. “Now, Then, and Always” was supposed to be “an informative atmosphere of respectability, inclusivity, and support of the lesbian, gay bisexual, transgender, questioning, intersexual, and ally community,” and I couldn’t help feeling excited to see a room filled with its beautiful and artistic representations from Cal Poly Pomona students.
I must have walked around the entire top floor of the Bronco Student Center passing a small hallway displaying some artwork five different times before I stopped and asked for directions. I knew that I had to have been close seeing as there were a few pieces out in the hallway by the Blood Drive that was going on, but when I did manage to ask someone in the Associated Student Incorporated office for help and I was surprised to find out that that the hallway I had passed so many times was the gallery.
I was a bit confused. Why was the art gallery confined to a dark and unnoticeable hallway? But I brushed the thought aside and blamed it on budgetary issues instead. It wasn’t until I had gained a rapport with one of the artists from the show that she let me in on a little secret. Continue reading “A Tale of Investigative Journalism”→
