Palm trees swaying in the summer breeze. White sandy beaches stretching along the coast of North Shore. Dramatic shades of red and orange the sun emits before dipping below the horizon off Waikiki. I conjure the images of home: basking in the sun, driving less than 10 minutes to the beach, and viewing the Pacific Ocean from Diamond Head. The things I took for granted are replaced with a mix of snow, rain, and 35 m.p.h. wind gusts. The streets of University and Main are covered with brown slush, and the sidewalks are frozen with patches of ice. I bundle in layers before going outside. I return to my dorm after class, traveling home via my computer desktop background of the Waikiki sunset I shot last summer.

I imagine how I’ll spend my summer. Exposing animal abuse in rodeos across Texas? Investigating safety measures for California produce? Or capturing the sights back home? Nervousness creeps inside me. No word on the internships I applied to mid-November last year. Questions race through my mind. What if I had attended a prestigious journalism school? Would I be guaranteed placement in a media organization upon graduation? What if I had majored in another field? Would I be happy following my parents’ wishes to study math or science? Unlike my cousin, who decided to pursue a job in pharmacy because 1) it was stable; 2) it paid well; 3) and her parents wanted her to, I chose to be rebellious. I wanted to follow my dream despite stiff competition, lousy pay, and parental pressure. I wasn’t ready to give up.

That’s why I worked so hard last fall. I gathered materials for internships to increase my chances of landing work during the summer. I photocopied my news clips at the library. I requested transcripts at the registrar’s office. I revamped my cover letter and résumé. And I surfed websites for media internship listings.

After class, I sifted through the contents of my mailbox in the lobby. A card addressed to my roommate. A flyer promoting an event. I crumpled it. Another letter for my roommate? I sighed. A long white envelope. I froze when I saw my name on it. My eyes glided to the upper left-hand corner of the thin envelope printed The Honolulu Advertiser. Bad news from my daily newspaper back home. Familiar words rang in my mind: “We’re sorry to inform you . . . but it was a difficult decision to make . . . please try again later.”

I stomped upstairs into my room. I handed my roommate her mail and left mine sitting on the desk. “Aren’t you going to open your mail?” she asked. “It’s probably a rejection letter,” I said, shrugging. I picked up the envelope and tugged at the flap. I opened the letter and skimmed. I took a deep breath and read slowly. I read it again, savoring every word: “Congratulations. You have been selected as a finalist for The Honolulu Advertiser’s 2007 summer internship program. We will contact you shortly for an interview.” I shared the news with my journalism instructor and my mentor and they advised me to prepare for the interview. I researched possible interview questions, and rehearsed my answers. I jotted them down.

When the interviewer called me, I expressed my passion for storytelling, and even pitched story ideas. I treated the interview as I would a normal conversation. I placed confidence in my abilities and told the truth.

Yea or nay? I wouldn’t find out until the following week, my interviewer said. A committee meeting on Monday would narrow down the dozen-or-so finalists to a handful, he said. But I couldn’t stop thinking about my plans for the summer: covering breaking news, reporting on subjects that matter, and writing profiles of ordinary folks. I imagined the stories I’d tell, the voices I’d represent. I survived the weekend awaiting the decision. I was sitting at my desk Tuesday evening, when my cell phone rang. An 808 area code appeared on my phone’s caller ID. I picked up and exchanged greetings with The Honolulu Advertiser’s internship coordinator.

I held my breath.

I was selected as a full-time intern for the summer! I let out a sigh of relief when she said, “Congratulations!” She asked if I wanted to accept the offer. An opportunity to gain on-site newsroom training and real-world experience? Absolutely! A chance to follow my dream—and get paid for it? Of course! I accepted without hesitation.

The stress of searching for internships is over, but the semester just began. I’m scrambling to meet weekly deadlines for my Photojournalism class, but I’m learning how to enhance my visual composition. In my Computer-Assisted Reporting (CAR) class, I’m analyzing databases to assist in my final reporting project and transportation presentation. CAR is essential in developing stories and uncovering hidden truths. Also, I’m interviewing various news professionals for my Media, Race, and Gender paper to gain an insight into the field. I hope to publish my research paper on Asian Americans in the newsroom. In my Communication Theory class, I’ll have the option of writing a research paper or taking a final exam. I won’t make a decision until I take the first exam this week. I’m also studying for my French exam and analyzing supply and demand graphs for my Microeconomics mid-term. I’ve mapped out my schedule on a calendar so I can meet multiple deadlines. I’ll tackle my assignments and exams one by one. I’ll be prepared for my internship by the time summer rolls along.

But next week is spring break. I’ll catch up on my work, and after that, I’ll hit the beach.