Until we meet again...

Jonathan and I, Homecoming 2004

Since I was a little girl, my dream was to change the world for the better. Over the years, I saw how journalism had the power to bring me closer to my dream. I understood how one story could change a life, reveal truth, and motivate someone to act.

My philosophy on life is simple- live it to the fullest. For so long I assumed "the fullest" meant never settling for mediocrity. In everything, from school and work, to my relationships with others, I never accepted "ordinary" or "average." I challenged myself and those close to me, because I refused to be like everyone else; I wouldn't be happy with the usual. I was realistic in my understanding that perfection was not attainable, but I wouldn't stop until I was damn near close to it.

Specifically during my college years, I saw my relentless and aggressive attitude toward life result in a positive outcome; well, most of the time. I'd reach for the stars, achieve a goal, then be off to conquer yet another nearly impossible endeavor.

With three days until graduation, I finally learned...I got it all wrong.

Living life to the fullest doesn't mean refusing to accept the unexceptional. For so long I believed that overcoming the impossible was the only way to fulfill my zest for life. It took the unexpected death of my first love and dear friend, Jonathan Monis, to realize I was wrong. Each day brings with it a new experience, a new person , a new challenge. I've learned to embrace what life throws at you, instead of chasing after what it didn't.

I can't help but be reminded of a TV commercial where a little girl is walking along a beach, throwing washed-up star fish back into the ocean. The message is simple; never doubt that one person can make a difference.

I know I can change the world for the better, one starfish at a time, enjoying the many blessings of life along the way...especially the fascinating people I'm lucky to know.

Jonathan Monis: Whoever said pimpin' aint easy never had a starfish. hah.

Hope in Hartman

Nadeen, Steve Hartman and I

3-30-10

After work I drove over to campus, FOUND A SPOT next to the Florida gym, and sprinted straight to the Weimer basement, where inside the spiffy "NEW 21st century CMIR Newsroom" was Steve Hartman.

I felt like I was standing in front of the meat department at Publix. Minus the chill (21st century newsroom, no air conditioning) the place was filled with fresh meat; raw, graduating-in-thirty-days-journalists, glued to the seasoned network correspondent thinking, "he's so lucky he has a job."

Hartman began his career in what my classmates and I call the "good ol' days" of broadcast journalism, when working your butt off as an intern got you more than valuable experience. Hartman was a news intern at WTOL TV in Toledo, Ohio (market 73) then got hired as a general assignment reporter. I couldn't help but look around the room and think, as we enter the world of $19,000 non-negotiable two year contract, sign here one-man-band industry of television news broadcasting, oh what I'd give for a time machine! I'd take that puppy straight back to 1983, land an internship at WTOL, and be Katie Couric faster than Hartman could say "everybody has a story."

Okay that's a joke. Hartman is amazing- his storytelling has won him the highest accolades in journalism, from Emmys to Murrows, this man is THE master. However, the leg up I'd have on 1983-Hartman is the knowledge of the profession's dismal future, reality for 2010-Giannas.

Tonight Hartman gave me hope. When a student asked one of the most basic questions, "how do you do what you do," Hartman's response is what will keep me going, all the way to the top, with or without a time machine. He said it's all about genuinely caring, listening to someone's story and telling it from the heart.

It was at that moment I felt an amazing calm roll over me. I smiled, thinking the man with Murrows and Emmys, whose work has touched countless lives around the world, had inside him the same fire I was born with, a passion for people. Something you can't get at Publix.

"No THE BAG!"

Upon seeing the toy airplane I had worked so hard to get my photog Patrick and I aboard this morning, I immediately regretted my story pitch.

Imagine this: you're driving down I-75, and you see a cluster of state troopers a few miles up. You reduce your speed to 60mph, ten miles under the posted speed limit. You softly pass the state troopers, even contemplating a friendly wave. Just when you think you've made it past the hot zone, flashing lights in your rearview. You pull over, extremely confused at your alleged crime. The trooper hits you with a $250 speeding ticket, saying an AIRPLANE clocked you going 15 over.

Florida Highway Patrol uses airplanes to catch speeders on the road.

Basically an FHP pilot flies over a major state road like I-75, uses a stopwatch to clock drivers as they cross a series of lines, (determining their speed), then radios to troopers on the ground, who finish the job.

I thought it would be cool to get the pilot's perspective. So I made some calls and got Patrick and I aboard HP267.

"It's very windy up there," said our pilot, Sgt. Andy Foote as he was giving us the pre-flight briefing.

(Over spring break I went parasailing, so I figured parasailing, small plane, same thing.)

Foote had Patrick sitting in front, and me in the back.

"Here, take this, even though you probably wont need it," said Sergeant Foote, as he handed Patrick a small barf bag.

For the next thirty minutes, Patrick and I took turns filming. Sergeant Foote kept reminding us not to stare into the view finder for too long, saying we'd start feeling sick.

Foote had a good point, but I needed a shot of a car getting pulled over- a rather difficult task that required several takes.

After giving up on my money shot, I passed the camera up to Patrick. Nausea hit me like a mac truck. The feeling intensified. I started sweating profusely. HP267 started closing in!

I hit Patrick's arm, pointing toward his barf bag.

Patrick turns around and hands me the camera.

"No! THE BAG!" my sudden dramatic screech frightened both Patrick and Foote.

After coming back down to earth, I not only realized that I'll never make it as a pilot, but through Sergeant Foote's story, I saw how an extra set of eyes above the road, (and a barf bag) can be good things.

Click here to watch my story

Goodbye UF!

Yesterday I was sitting in ethics, and the lecture topic was: "final exam review"

Aside from the uncomfortable stomach pain associated with the realization that I'm months behind in my reading, something else dawned on me...THE END IS NEAR! I graduate on April 30th, (and all along I thought I was graduating in May).

I must say, it's been an AMAZING ride. I'm so grateful for every experience, person, and story I've encountered during my years at UF. From meeting people like Robbie Lumpkins, and producing a documentary for Tim Tebow, to reporting on Destin's "Sand Wars," and producing a UF version of Michael Jackson's Thriller, I'll cherish every adventure for the rest of my life. I'm truly blessed. Go Gators!

Kickball

When I was little, I wasn't allowed to do sports. My mother was convinced that I wasn't a "sports girl." So for years my mission was to prove her wrong. It wasn't long before I realized what so many can't stand to confess; mama was right.

Katie, her dad Joe, and I

Father Daughter Dance, 4th grade

I wasn't like the rest of the girls. I was an extremely under-developed pipsqueak, a liability for any team. In sixth grade, when my friends started shopping in juniors, fitting into double-zero's, I was still in kids. When the girls started wearing bras, I was waiting for "breast buds." You can imagine how hard it was for an awkward middle schooler growing up in Queens, going to school with kids not afraid to "tell it like it is." Thanks to my older brother, I was fortunate enough to have nicknames like cardboard, big head, (my head was the only thing that seemed to grow), and the infamous, "zoop-zoop," which, with the hand motions, meant flat on either side.

My sports career officially ended when I decided to try out for the softball team in seventh grade. Coming home with a missing tooth and black eye brought my mother close to a nervous breakdown, and me, closer to tap dancing and ballet.

Fast forward to 2010, I was asked by my coworker if I'd like to join TV20's team in the annual

company kickball game. You can imagine my excitement-it's been years since the seventh grade, when I hung my bat and retired from the sports world! I'm taller, stronger, and well, way COOLER, and the best part- someone wants me on their TEAM?!?

Here's the video I produced, highlighting the experience as a member of TV20's kickball team:

Eating brownies on the sidelines, (I told everyone they were protein brownies)

Call it "Gi-walking"

Jay Leno has a segment in his show called, "Jaywalking" where he quizzes America on everything from current events and literature, to state slogans and mottos. It's hysterical. I was working the 11 last night, (which happened to be Super Bowl Sunday). In desperate need of a story idea, I figured I'd marry the two- my plot to one day produce a Jaywalking segment in Gainesville, and the Super Bowl- and in the end, I got Gi-walking...("Gi" for Giannas) in G-ville. Okay, not as cool as Jaywalking, but my producer liked it.

*Scroll down to watch the story*

"I really want to be with my mom right now"

one way ticket to Haiti

Tragedy has swept the already suffering lands of Haiti, but this morning I saw hope. Hope not written between the lines of a news article, but behind the eyes of a man who says he literally cannot sleep because so many are suffering. 

This morning I interviewed Mark Atkinson, a UF professor who has been doing missionary work in Haiti for years. On January 11, the day before the earthquake struck, Atkinson arrived back in Gainesville after a two-week mission trip to a town just north of Port-au-Prince. On his office computer, Atkinson showed me pictures from his recent trip, fighting back tears with every click.

Atkinson has purchased a one way ticket to Haiti. While looking through pictures from the AP wires, I asked him if he was scared of the harsh reality he'll soon face. Atkinson said fear has no presence in his life, and with tears in eyes he added, "I just love people."

Prime Time Football

Orin and I

11.13.09

After class I drove over to Prime Time to hang out with the kids. One of the second graders volunteered to be my photographer. He did a good job, don't you think? 

Prime Time is a nonprofit after school program for at-risk kids in East Gainesville. 

Prime Time Website

mtvU!

While sitting in a lecture hall learning about the many laws of mass communication, I got an email from my producer at mtvU saying he was airing my package...three times! At 2:30, 3:30, and 4:30!

HOW COOL!

I haven't figured out how to grab the video from the mtvU broadcast, but here's the link to the story on ABC's website:

Click to watch my "Gator Big Spirit" PKG

Lunch with Dean Wright

Patrick, Miles, Dean Wright, myself, and Brittny

Yesterday Dean Wright took the ABC News on Campus team to lunch at Ballyhoo. It was a nice treat and I realized, I am SO excited for my senior year of college!

Clunkers, Clouds, and a Cameo

It's Sunday, and this morning I went to church. Leaving inspired and rejuvenated, I decided on a lunch date to Panera with my laptop. Sitting in one of the prized booths next to an outlet, I'm catching up on my emails and taking sporadic bites of my panini. I just sent Rob, fellow journalist and friend, a response to his email I received at the beginning of the week. I unleashed some of the feelings I've been harboring since last night, when I left the station at 11:46 PM. I figured this makes for a good blog post.

I'm sorry I'm just now getting back to you. My weekend has been pretty crazy. Yesterday I worked at TV20 as a fill-in reporter for the 11. They sent me to Chiefland for a "cash-for-clunkers" package. On the way back to the station, my producer asked me to drive to Hawthorne to get a vosot on a man who fell from a water tower. To save time, the assignment desk gave me directions from Chiefland to Hawthorne. I guess sometime between pulling out of the car dealership and steering with my knee while searching for a pen, I misunderstood the directions. For the next 45 minutes, nothing but me and WCJB's white hyundai were on a long two-lane road, smack dab in the middle of a thick forest that reminded me of The Blair Witch Project. Having no service on my cell phone, I began to panic. At the first sight of human life, I pulled over. I grabbed my useless cell phone thinking that if I was abducted, at least I could pray for a miracle. A woman wearing overalls and chewing a piece of hay was selling peaches. Great, I was closer to Georgia than TV20. The woman gave me directions back to Gainesville. I put the pedal to the metal and called my producer at the first bar of service. She still needed the Hawthorne video.

 I make it to Hawthorne Road. Up ahead I see dark clouds stirring together. I was approaching a severe lightning storm. When I couldn't see anything but the powerful bolts striking two feet from my car, I pulled over. I called my producer and explained my life was in danger. "Kristin, try to stick it out. We need this vosot. It's leading the show," she says. It wasn't long before I found myself hovering under a tree with my tripod and camera, getting video of a tall, METAL water tower surrounded by WATER. Good thing the rain didn't short out my camera...right? As soon as I got back to the station, I jumped in an edit bay and got to work. At 10:53pm I delivered my package. Wait. I forgot to insert super times in my script. My friends watching at home say they saw my graceful sprint behind the news anchor, as I booked it across the studio to the control room to give the director my cue sheet for supers.

Yesterday, time was not on my side. In the short hour I had to edit, I was forced to repeat video and use shaky shots. Not mentioned in my email, but will be explained to my news director on Monday, was the lack of footage at the car dealership. I wanted to get video of a customer bringing in their clunker, interacting with the salesman, etc. Of course when I got to Chiefland I had, "just missed the wave of cash-for-clunkers customers," (said the GM).

When it's all said and done, the important thing is, I survived. I did the best with what I had to work with at the ghost-town of a car dealership, made it to Hawthorne without getting struck by lightning, filmed the water tower without getting electrocuted, didn't trip and twist my ankle while sprinting to the control room, and my cash-for-clunkers package made slot.

Here's a link to my package, (watch for my cameo run during the anchor intro).

Click to watch:Cash for Clunkers WCJB TV 20 News