We are sitting in a circle. He has us do this so we can feel like we are in a real newsroom. He points at me and says, “You’re on the slam poet that’s coming to perform.” I freeze, I know nothing about slam poetry. I immediately go back to my dorm to do research on “The Asia Project.”

 

This guy is amazing. He battled cancer and lives to tell his experience through slam poetry. I am amazed, and I decide to go a step further. I want to meet him. I find his facebook page and I ask if I can interview him after his performance. He answers me back right away that he can’t wait to meet me.

 

His show is late on a Tuesday night and not many people have showed up. That’s ok I think, this is way more intimate. His show was phenomenal; his poetry is an art that I have never learned to appreciate. I took notes in my composition notebook the whole two hours. The room is clearing out. My hands are shaking. He is packing up, its time for me to meet him.

 

He isn’t a celebrity and he doesn’t act like one. Yet I am sweating like a fan girl because I have never met an artist who I respect as much as I respect him in this moment. We shake hands, I take out my recorder and I start firing off my questions. He is honest and we laugh at most of the things he says. He is candid but sweet. He tells me about his wife when I ask about the poem titled “sunscreen.” I can’t help but fall in love with this man and his talent. He gives me so much material that I can’t wait to write this article.

 

Asia’s poetry is like music. It is an art I can appreciate but not duplicate. I want to do him justice and recognize his talent the best way I can. I am going to write a feature about the emotions he evoked during his show. Audience members cried and laughed during the show. Multiple times he took my breath away, I wanted to do that with my article.

 

I spent three days writing and revising my article for the school paper. I finally hand it in at our weekly meeting and I am so proud. My editor smiles and says he will be in touch with my next assignment.

 

Later in the week I receive an email from my editor. In short he told me to rewrite it. He asked for a hard news story about what events were happening on our campus. He said what I gave him was a fluff piece and that he wouldn’t run it the way it was written.

 

I was heartbroken. This man who had changed my life in the course of two hours on a cold Tuesday night gave me the gift of art. That’s what I wanted to give back. I wanted to write a story that encapsulated his spirit and talent. Instead I had to edit my story down to half the amount of words and write it in a style that killed all creativity. Although I was crushed I did what was asked of me. I handed it in and it was printed in the school paper. I quit the paper right after writing that article. I am still friends with Asia on facebook and I sent him the article I wrote but we never discussed it. I still listen to his poems from time to time but I should have thanked him for was the realization that I not a reporter, but a creative writer and I should have never overlooked that.