Elisabeth Kwak-Hefferan: Figuring it out as we go through life

Two months before graduation

I've got it all figured out. I have discovered my purpose on this earth. After four years of hard work and lesson-learning at Penn in general and The Daily Pennsylvanian in particular, I now know my true calling.

I'm going to be a rock star journalist. A journalist of rock stars, if you will. And who better to launch my illustrious career than Liz Phair, the indie-rock-goddess-turned-mainstream-radio-wannabe (but whom we still love) who inspired my very first column?

One week later

Liz Phair is playing at the Electric Factory next week, and I will work my connections at 34th Street to interview her. This will be awesome.

I've been given the go-ahead from the Street powers-that-be. Sweet. Now I just have to call her publicist and the interview I crave will be mine.

A few days later

This isn't working as smoothly as I thought. The computerized phone-answering service at Capitol Records is just leading me around in circles. I decide to get creative, brush off my ace reporting skills.

Finally, four calls and two e-mails later, I have made contact with Liz Phair's press guy. It's amazing what people will tell you when you drop a newspaper's name, even the DP's. Maybe this would have been easier if I'd claimed to be from Rolling Stone.

The next day

Hmm. Apparently Liz Phair isn't doing any more press for this tour, not even when you sweet-talk her publicist. But if I've learned anything in college, it's that things don't always work out the way you plan. My first love didn't -- neither did that stupid sociology group project or losing to Cornell's volleyball team every year. You've just gotta soldier on.

The good news is, I can have a free ticket to review the show. Yes! I'm on the press list! I bet I can get backstage. Follow your dreams, man, even in the face of adversity.

One hour before the show

"Hi, I'm on the press list," I tell the ticket booth man confidently. He can't find my name. Great. Eventually, he lets me in, sans photo pass or backstage credentials. This isn't exactly the rock star journalist reception I was hoping for.

Once inside, I stop the first roadie I see with a pass: I'm supposed to be on the press list, the publicist made a mistake, who can I talk to? He amiably leads me to the backstage entrance, then disappears to get the "club guy."

The club guy is unsympathetic. Without a printed copy of my confirmation e-mail, or at least some newspaper ID, I'm stuck. In desperation I hand him my Penn card. He just laughs.

Twenty minutes before the show

I make friends with a photographer who can go backstage. He printed his confirmation e-mail. He is kind enough to offer to send me some pictures. See, it's all about the relationships you build along the way.

One hour later

The roadie who helped me out earlier turns out to be the drummer for one of the opening bands. Oops. I vow to always follow his example and help others, even lowly college journalists who don't know what they're doing.

Another hour later

Liz Phair is phenomenal. She just looked at me and smiled. I am so in. She'll agree to talk to me and we can go party together in Philly after the show. We'll become best friends and I'll get to interview all her rock star friends too.

We are nothing if not ambitious.

She plays 6'1". How fitting.

After the show

I have a brilliant idea. One of the opening acts was good -- she's going places, I can tell. I will try to interview her, too. Then I will use her to get to Liz Phair. You've gotta start somewhere.

Five minutes later

I'm a chicken. I shook the opening performer's hand and told her she was great and walked away. I'm kicking myself -- why didn't you do it differently? How could you have made that mistake?

In the cab back to campus I calm myself. Perhaps it was a mistake not to pursue the interviews, or not to stalk the bands as they boarded the tour bus. I've learned from it. Next time, I'll know. Next time, I'll be just a little bit wiser.

Apparently, I don't know everything, even after all this training. That's okay. We figure it out as we go.

This wasn't what I expected. It was worse and it was better. I have succeeded and failed by turns. I have felt like quitting and I have been inspired. I have met extraordinary people and I have opened my mind to a whole new world.

We have so much to discover. May our beliefs overcome our worries. May we reach those heights we dream about.

We'll keep on figuring it out as we go. And in the meantime, it never hurts to tell people you're with Rolling Stone.

Elisabeth Kwak-Hefferan is a senior communications major from Wheaton, Ill. Six Feet One appears on Tuesdays.

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