May 30, 2005

Publish-ed

Tee-hee!

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May 26, 2005

Ewww.

Too gross...

"I sold a morgue table for a couple hundred dollars to a guy who turned it into a bar," Stroyne said. "I recently sold one of the pedestal sinks that was in the tunnels. There were bathrooms down there."

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May 24, 2005

First Draft

"I like your lead. The article's a bit wordy, though."

Nothing I haven't heard before...

This morning I turned in my first story to my editor. My nails are bitten to the quick from the worry, but thankfully I had something else to work on today.

I'll admit the first day and the subsequent first week was overpowering, especially with the environment distracting me every time I swiveled in my "rollie" chair, but now (knocks on wood byproduct desk) things are moving along and I am learning the nature of what I am to do on the day-to-day.

Sometimes after lunch, I diverge from desk-to-lunchroom beeline and scope out the layout departments, poke my head in the newsroom, and see what the cartoonist is up to. Cue the 007 music, I'm going in...

More and more, however, I feel like I am the one being inspected. The photographers have a glass window into my world, and the other side of my desk is in the walkway between two departments. Reporters, photographers, and just about anyone, can see me. I guess it's a tactic to make me learn everyone's names. Tricky. Sly. Distracting. -This is a test, I repeat, this is a test of the Pennsylvania Newspaper Association.- :-D

I've started logging my days and bulleting the things I have done for my internship hours. I've also saved my first draft to see how it has been altered for publication. Hackage...I'm sure.

It's actually really fun playing the covert Trib operative. When my family asks what I did all day long, I just give them an upraised brow and an, "I'm not at liberty to dispense that information at this time." ;-) It's great.

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May 21, 2005

Rummage Sale finds

Aging carpets, couches I wouldn't sit on for fifteen bucks (okay, maybe), sweaters committing every fashion sin, and much --much-- more filled my church's community building today for our annual Rummage Sale. I am a notorious bargain shopper; I rummaged--I rummaged well.

When my sister came home from her early shift at 11:00, I was still sleeping. Hey, I deserve it--the Trib first week was amazing, but those early mornings really do not fit with my natural constitution. I have to force myself to crawl out from the coccoon of warm beddedness.

After she chastised me for sleeping in, I promptly blamed it on my mother for not waking me or even saying anything about it when I came in the night before. In the past, I have always been one of the workers in the kitchen, but when I did get to the sale, I discovered that everything was okay without me. Good. :-) More time for me to rummage...

Dressing up everyday has taxed even my closet, so I promptly began searching for dressy clothes. I scored on a pair of black pants, a pinstripe suit, several shirts, and lovely dresses that I know the person did not want to give away... I have a theory that the people getting rid of this stuff are a)losing weight b)gaining weight or c)do not have enough closet space. All the more fun for the closet space fiend.

The best find of the day, however, was a pair of almost-new white figure skates. After peeking in a bag that looked like an oversized shoe, I spotted them, or specifically the hot pink blade protectors. The people beside me probably thought I'd found the Holy Grail for all the teehees that were coming out of me.

I Googled the brand, and apparently they are established and have an illustrious history (or so they say).

But that really doesn't matter. They fit and they're comfortable. With a sharpening, I should be set for my next experience on ice, hopefully without the painful ankle marks from the rentals.

Since my first time in a long time, Chris and I skated again and I fell considerably less (only 1 time! :-D). I'm liking it better when the falling isn't such a prevalent part of the activity. With my record improving, I felt it was about time to invest. $1.50, yep, that's enough for now. :-D

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May 17, 2005

Firsting it out: Trib internship day one

One day at the Greensburg Tribune-Review under my belt. "So--" you are all asking, "How did it go?"

Pretty well for all concerned parties, especially my stapler.

~~

I arrived at the Trib promptly at 10:00 a.m. in my brown suit and cream-colored shoes. Whoops, I went in the exit. Some back-ups and I was in a parking spot. After a few minutes in my car doing breathing exercises to Coldplay's mellow tunes, I stepped out and headed toward the main entrance.

After giving the receptionist my name, I surfed the Trib website in the lobby, but was quickly escorted in to fill out some financial stuff and have my photo taken for my press badge.

I think that is the first I.D. photo I've ever taken where I do not look like I have been sedated. I would show you it, but the I.D. isn't mine, but the Trib's. I don't want to be skating on thin ice my first day. Skating on normal ice is hard enough. :-D

After all of that, I went down into the newsroom to meet the reporters and the tech manager for training. The computer program they use is great. User-friendly.

During my tech training, the fire alarms went off, and I took a walk outside to the parking lot with the rest of the staff. I kept thinking, "Wow, I need to make some friends to stand with whenever this happens." I'm working on it, though.

After the conclusion of the fire drill and my computer training, I headed out with one of the reporters to get a look around the office. The printer is beautiful. I tried to "get" the idea of a four-color process printer during my Print Communication and Digital Imaging courses, but I just didn't understand it until I viewed the buckets of ink and the plates, and heard the whir of the machine first-hand. Oh, the wonder of CMYK!

And back to my desk. The placement of it is not exactly where I envisioned (in the newsroom), but I am honored by its location: in the middle of the in-depth news feature team office. I am working the best reporters on the staff. They do not take interns often, so I have a lot of work to do to prove that they made the right decision.

My desk is also adjacent to the photo department; it is partitioned off by a glass window and I can see everything that is happening inside their world...

I have received my first assignment and I am working hard on it, but only during work hours. I have been told NOT to take work home with me. What a change from the homework schedule I've been keeping for the past few months.

I also recieved a new Associated Press Style manual, a Trib Manual, a dictionary, phonebook, pens, notebooks, a black garbage can, and two bookends for my desk--exciting additions.

I was running on adrenaline for the past two days and it finally caught up on the drive home. Sapped.

After voting, I crumpled into a heap on my sister's bed. Maybe tomorrow I will do the lunch thing...

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May 15, 2005

Exiting

I felt compelled to write some poetry.

Never knowing you, except for that blue bundle
You carried--pressed--not to fumble.
Blind from another pack,
On a bending back,
We watched--
Tirelessly, debauched.

"Just another young one
with a young son."
A snarled path that dandies prayed not tread
That the vacant old had already lead.

A laden tread you walk no longer.
Deciding no more, just not stronger.
We see--
But can't agree.

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May 14, 2005

Ramps reap Newsweek coverage

So really, it isn't that odd that we have this tradition. People are, according to Newsweek, paying around $10 a pound for the lil' stinkers.

Sheffield notes: "Be warned: ramps have a pungent aroma, so it's best to avoid them on a first date."

Double on that. :-D

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May 12, 2005

Voicemail Antics

Somehow, I know I wasn't meant for telemarketing. In my crazed state last evening, I received a message from, you guessed it, the Trib. I have no idea if this is good or bad news, and in my haste, I returned the call without thinking what would come out of my mouth if a voicemail would pick up the call.

The line which I was directed to by the message, was just a long, long series of rings, so I thought I would be persistent and call the general desk. I was directed to the editor and left a message that Chewbacca could have delivered with more expediency.

I called again this afternoon and reached another general voicemail, again leaving an incomprehensible message.

Note to self: Wait for the stress of a finished semester to subside before making any important phone calls. Lesson learned. What's the worst that could happen? I would get fired before I even start and have a summer of freedom babysitting again. Not too bad of a deal. *Slaps self in head*

Revised listing: 1)Macs and 2)voicemail--the root(s) of all technological evil.

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May 10, 2005

Ten ways you know it's Finals Week

10. The Macs actually appear to be breathing, after all. You have considered it all semester, and they finally have taken on human characteristics. You think about making one a pet, but then realize that you would probably have the Mac pet police on your tail for kicking the poor thing.
9. Analytical analysis or bs, more like, spouts out of your mouth like a spring river on steroids.
8. The car on the other side of the road is uncomfortably close, and the yellow lines which are to separate "you" from them are, as it would appear, non-existent.
7. When you hear the word "save," instead of religious things, you are reminded to back up your hard drive one more time and pray that Satan doesn't attack that last paper...whoops, I guess it is downright religious now.
6. Wakefulness is not a choice, it's a condition. Coffee, Mt. Dew, and the occasional electro-shock therapy treatment are all aids in the sustaining this wired existence.
5. You dare not mention "I'm going to print" in a room for fear of being eaten alive by others with the same intention. You just hunker down and cross your fingers that no one will associate you with the mysterious job: "fantasmagorical final paper" in the queue.
4. The depression of another semester ending and the prospects of another one beginning are too much.
3. You write that last paper, the thorn in your side, pacing back and forth between the refrigerator, the freezer and the snack cabinet. You may gain twenty pounds in keeping your body occupied while your mind thinks up that next paragraph.
2. You just dreamed that you and your family were on the Titanic after riding back in time on a time machine. There aren't enough lifeboats, of course, and for some reason, your dad decided to hitch a ride on the Titanic and the time machine is broken. You wake up screaming, realizing that the paper you have been writing for Media Aesthetics is taking over your conscious and subconscious mind. It all seems so real. It is. You run away screaming down the street in your pajamas, searching for another Mountain Dew to suffice the sugar craving. Sleep just isn't working anymore.
1. Interrogative sentences punctuate your conversation more than ever before, and they aren't full sentences, either. "Huh?" and "Mmm?" and a strange grunt, reminiscent of Tool Time's Tim Taylor, become the norm. Regression into a caveman (or woman) existence. Survival of the fittest.

Stay fit, all. It's almost over.

And if you aren't fit, take some more orange medicine and call me in the morning.

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May 6, 2005

Peek into recent past

Aside from my intermittent moments of falling off some invisible ledge, this has been a pretty amazing week.

It started out with a thwarted catastrophe at the annual ramp-picking adventure.

Chris joined us this year. :-D After climbing up the hill a bit, I showed him what ramps look like, how to pick them (illegal to pick in some areas--the cops did stop by to ask what we were doing and, just in case, we hid them), and he caught on really quickly; he was a handy accomplice in ramping crime. We got a shopping bag full in about 15 minutes. I was so proud. Then we headed down the hill, which is just as, if not more tricky than going up. Chris and I were okay, but it got a bit scary when my sister and two of my cousins did a nose-dive and roll into the saturated spring soil. They thankfully got up without scratches--only laughs. Even my nine-month pregnant aunt headed up the hill to pick. She is currently in labor at Latrobe Hospital. It was scary seeing her descent off the hill. She had guts to go up that day, I guess...

Around 20 of us headed up into the mountains at the park, and only 19 returned. After we finished washing the onions, we realized that my cousin Shawn was missing. The whole crew loaded up in cars and started screaming his name up into the hills. Chris and I joined in on the manhunt, as well. We climbed higher than any of us had ever been before, but there was no sign of him.

thelostboy.JPG
The Lost Boy--click on it, just in case of an emergency. We were about to put his image on a milk carton.

Thought to be unconscious at the bottom of a ravine or eaten by wild boars, a report was made with the park authorities. Rumors of firefighters on quads and boy-sniffing dogs circled around my family's camp.

After about two hours, my cousin Billy located Shawn on another hill entirely. He was gone long enough that he got hugged instead of kicked in the arse. :-)

Wow, what a day for Chris to meet my huge family. After we found Shawn, we headed to the picnic area and ate. Then we got onto the conversation of if I would eat a ramp or not. After saying no, I was tickled into submission by Chris, while my mom put one in my mouth. Sneeky teamwork. I promptly removed the onion. Blech.

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My cousin, Stacy, knows it-- ramps stink. This is the common face among us that do not eat them.:)

Chris formally joined the tradition by including a message in the time-capsule. He wrote some pretty cool stuff. ;)

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Sharing a blanket with my ramping newbie.


After a crazy week of papers, presentations and projects, we had a fun night at the Setonian/Eye Contact party. What a great time to show off all of our achievements this year. I was awarded 'Article of the Year' for this little piece. I'm sorry for the egoism; I'm still proud of it.

Tonight, I had the pleasure of seeing my sister, Katie, gorgeous in her prom gown at her high school grand march. She is currently having a blast at the event.

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Katie, what a beauty!

That's all from me for now. Although classes are finished, there is still much to do and so little time...

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May 4, 2005

A Final Aesthetic Collection

The final leg of the aesthetics relay is now coming to completion. Although I'm sure my audience has been bored by these entries, I hope to have sparked some intellectual thought and/or shown that I do more at SHU than just stick my head in a book and spew forth facts.

So here they are, my final aesthetics entries and their counterparts, the collections of this semester:

Concerning natural aesthetic appreciation, I assess the critic and why this person or group is qualified to do say what is beauty in natural surroundings. As a novice critic of my peers' work in my Digital Imaging course, I began to see the point that the author makes: all people can have a general sense of what looks good and what does not, but it takes a standard and the terminology to assess that artwork that is aquired with experience and study.

In Taking a Scholarly Spin-student-assigned texts, I assessed my peers' selections that contribute to their overall final projects. From Buffy the Vampire Slayer, to architechtural design in theme park rides and body image and the media, I indicate, not only my enthusiasm, but ability to assess source material and scholarly texts which address such immediate topics.

In this entry, I discuss my topic for my Media Aesthetics final research project. While this blog is rough, it indicates where I wanted to go with my project. I have decided to address the masculine and feminine tellings of the Titanic tragedy in terms of plot, dialogue, characterization. While I tried to address realism, this idea sort of did not work, so I have changed my direction; I wanted to write about this anyway. I still have time, and more than enough sources to really go in-depth in my position that Titanic by James Cameron is a feminine and masculine telling and A Night to Remember is a predominantly masculine telling. Although this thesis has a lot more clarifications that must be made, I have pages to do it, right? I think it is much more interesting than realism in film, anyway. Just some fine-tuning in the thesis...I'll be all right.

Second Aesthetics Portfolio: Scrapbooking Spring: 2005 Aesthetics: Highlights contemporary works in light of my newfound knowledge of classical aesthetics.

First Aesthetics Portfolio: Aesthetically-pleasing scrapbook: This portfolio demonstrates my growing knowledge of predominantly classical understanding of aesthetic appreciation and analysis.

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