As usual, this is not what I should be doing right now, but life is just too good not to document at the moment.
It's becoming more apparent that this blog is now functioning mainly as a device through which I can gush about things that I'm happy about. This is probably getting pretty annoying for my readers(Coley), but since I — like many people my age — am still on the fence about my religious feelings, I think something just makes me feel like I need to acknowledge the good stuff in my life...even if not outrightly being thankful for it...even though I am.
It's confusing, I know, but I was raised in a church-going family that made me go to Sunday school every week and sing in the church choir for years. I also have an unbelievably sweet and kind and very-much Jesus-loving(nothing wrong with it) grandmother who sends me weekly letters reminding me how special I am and that she prays for me "ever A.M. and P.M., and sometimes in between". Despite all of this, my siblings and I all seem to have turned out fairly agnostic. This doesn't really bother our parents, but I think —at least in my Dad's case —it still makes them a little uneasy... or disappointed, I don't know.
I like to think that I still recognize how lucky I am and don't take things too much for granted. Of course I do sometimes — we all do, right? — but I honestly can't ignore how fucking great life is sometimes. That may not have been the most eloquent way to phrase that, but I think it sums up my feelings rather well.
Maybe it's mostly laziness that keeps me from making up my mind about about religion. It's so easy to say "I don't agree with organized religion" and cite all of the flaws throughout history. Most of us are really just using our youth as an excuse to be indifferent about it, as we do about pretty much everything else. In some respects, I do think that I shouldn't have to make my mind up now. I don't feel like there's a rush. I don't have any problem with people who are respectfully and intelligently religious, but I cannot imagine myself following a single-set dogma for the rest of my life unquestioningly like others.
Sometimes, I get a little envious of that kind of faith. I'm sure a lot of people do.
That concludes tonight's random giddy outburst. I'll try to actually come about something next time.
Here's a nice happy music video with pretty people farting butterflies.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Thursday, March 3, 2011
This is what I want to do.
Holy shit. I can't sum it up better than that. Really. Reporting breaking news is the best rush I've ever had.
I just got back from a total of about seven, maybe even eight, hours or reporting this huge protest on campus. There were news choppers and associated press reporters and cameras everywhere, and me and my fellow campus reporters darting around trying to get everything that was happening. It was nerve-wracking and scary and exhausting and the absolute most exciting thing I've probably ever been directly involved with. I learned so much today. I feel like I'm already a seasoned reporter, even though I know I have way more stuff to learn.
Even though protests here are by no means unusual - in fact they're pretty much a daily, or at least weekly, thing to some extent - this one was bigger than most. I was literally coming out of class in one of the main buildings on campus when it started. Seven students protesting budget cuts tied themselves together on the fourth story ledge of this building, and refused to come down until their demands were met. I saw my editor talking to an older reporter, went over and asked what I could do, and that was it. They were depending on me for updates and quotes from the scene for the rest of the day.
Demonstrators on the ground bellow held a rally the entire time, chanting about the fee hikes at the university and comparing us to Egypt and Wisconsin(a little melodramatic maybe but hey, they're passionate about this stuff). Riot police showed up to close the doors of the building, and a bunch of people got pepper sprayed and hit with batons. I got to talk to a bunch of those people, including one of the protesters who was chained up on the ledge after they came down later when the administration agreed to meet most of their demands.
It was just incredible. Calling my editors up every few minutes with updates, talking to such passionate people, getting advice and directions from older reporters, seeing my name on the byline for the coverage, and just being there in general. If there was ever a time when I doubted whether or not I wanted to go into journalism, today pretty much put an end to that. I'm sure there'll be times in the future when I'm covering something difficult or super boring when I start to get discouraged, but hopefully thinking back to today will help me get past it and remember what it's like to be a reporter on the front lines of breaking news that truly matters.
I just got back from a total of about seven, maybe even eight, hours or reporting this huge protest on campus. There were news choppers and associated press reporters and cameras everywhere, and me and my fellow campus reporters darting around trying to get everything that was happening. It was nerve-wracking and scary and exhausting and the absolute most exciting thing I've probably ever been directly involved with. I learned so much today. I feel like I'm already a seasoned reporter, even though I know I have way more stuff to learn.
Even though protests here are by no means unusual - in fact they're pretty much a daily, or at least weekly, thing to some extent - this one was bigger than most. I was literally coming out of class in one of the main buildings on campus when it started. Seven students protesting budget cuts tied themselves together on the fourth story ledge of this building, and refused to come down until their demands were met. I saw my editor talking to an older reporter, went over and asked what I could do, and that was it. They were depending on me for updates and quotes from the scene for the rest of the day.
Demonstrators on the ground bellow held a rally the entire time, chanting about the fee hikes at the university and comparing us to Egypt and Wisconsin(a little melodramatic maybe but hey, they're passionate about this stuff). Riot police showed up to close the doors of the building, and a bunch of people got pepper sprayed and hit with batons. I got to talk to a bunch of those people, including one of the protesters who was chained up on the ledge after they came down later when the administration agreed to meet most of their demands.
It was just incredible. Calling my editors up every few minutes with updates, talking to such passionate people, getting advice and directions from older reporters, seeing my name on the byline for the coverage, and just being there in general. If there was ever a time when I doubted whether or not I wanted to go into journalism, today pretty much put an end to that. I'm sure there'll be times in the future when I'm covering something difficult or super boring when I start to get discouraged, but hopefully thinking back to today will help me get past it and remember what it's like to be a reporter on the front lines of breaking news that truly matters.
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
"Those who do... DO IT BECAUSE IT WAS TAUGHT TO THEM."
Now that I'm trying to keep up with current events more, I'm remembering how angry most of this stuff tends to get me. Like the argument that seems to be going around amongst pundits lately that teachers are greedy and overpaid considering the little work they do, thus we should be cutting their benefits and pensions rather than those of the appallingly rich, say, hedge fund managers or corporate CEOs.
Now I'm not saying I haven't had lazy teachers, or bad teachers, or teachers who just seemed to be coasting through to the end of the day for the sake of a paycheck. But that doesn't mean those outliers can detract from the ones who matter. Like the 4th grade teacher who encouraged my creative writing. Or the 8th grade teacher who enthralled me and generations of other students with his demonstrations in science class. Or the 9th grade teacher who sparked my passion for Shakespeare. Or the 7th grade teacher who made helped me learn how to express my opinions and ideas confidently, whatever they were. Or the 2nd grade teacher who would still send me notes throughout high school, congratulating me on an article I'd recently had in the local newspaper.
I'm sincerely sorry for those people who think teachers aren't worth the considerably meager in comparison pay they receive, because they must not have had the kind of teachers I did. And that's really sad.
Here's a video one of those teachers recently posted on facebook, and for so many teachers out there, it's the absolute truth.
Now I'm not saying I haven't had lazy teachers, or bad teachers, or teachers who just seemed to be coasting through to the end of the day for the sake of a paycheck. But that doesn't mean those outliers can detract from the ones who matter. Like the 4th grade teacher who encouraged my creative writing. Or the 8th grade teacher who enthralled me and generations of other students with his demonstrations in science class. Or the 9th grade teacher who sparked my passion for Shakespeare. Or the 7th grade teacher who made helped me learn how to express my opinions and ideas confidently, whatever they were. Or the 2nd grade teacher who would still send me notes throughout high school, congratulating me on an article I'd recently had in the local newspaper.
I'm sincerely sorry for those people who think teachers aren't worth the considerably meager in comparison pay they receive, because they must not have had the kind of teachers I did. And that's really sad.
Here's a video one of those teachers recently posted on facebook, and for so many teachers out there, it's the absolute truth.
You could argue that I'm biased. My mother was a teacher for a time and still works with young children and reading. I also have two older siblings who are teachers, so I hear about what they go through. But I also just graduated from a public high school in the past year, so I know the bullshit teachers have to wade through just to do their damn jobs from first-hand experience. I'm often annoyed when I hear older generations talking about how disrespectful my generation is, because they're lumping me and my friends into that group, but the truth is that for a significant portion, they're right. It's a tough fucking job to deal with some of us day-in and day-out. But it's one of the most important things you can possibly do. And that day doesn't "end at 2:30pm" for most of them, as I heard one pundit saying. They have tests and papers to grade, lessons to prepare in order to get their students to meet government standards, and of course the baggage of administrative stress going on in schools all over the country. And then there's the teachers who bring home their student's problems to, struggling to figure out how they can help them in the classroom when the real issues facing a particular student may really be at home.
This may all end up sounding a little over-dramatic, but these kinds of attacks on teachers just makes me realize how unbelievably backward our country is when we consider cutting their benefits and pensions...
...but GOD FORBID we raise taxes on the rich.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
I MUSTACHE you a question...
...but I'll shave it for later.
Who doesn't love a good pun? Especially when it involves mustaches- Thus begins my long-winded explanation of my fixation with mustache-humor.
I speak, first and foremost, about the phenomenon knowns as fingerstaches(I've only recently found out that this is the official name, which was depressing considering I had previously thought that my friends and I came up with it). If you don't know what I'm talking about(though I think you do, since I only know of two people who read this blog and they are definitely both well aware), then I suggest you educate yourself, because you are missing out my friend. Below, you will find a visual manifestation of what I'm talking about.
Fingerstaches are hilarious. Plain and simple. In fact, I think the simplicity of the concept is really the key to its humor. Perhaps it's just the fact that something so commonplace can be made to look so utterly ridiculous, merely by tattooing it temporarily onto a bodily appendage, that makes it so enjoyable for me.
And it doesn't stop there. Oh no. Out of finger staches there has emerged a slew of mustache related items that are now being produced to my utter . Since my friends and family are fully aware of my stache-obsession, I now own all of the following items:
I would like to add that, despite the sheer giddiness a good fingerstache induces in me, I do not particularly enjoy them in their natural state. That is, I'm not really attracted to facial fuzz on an actual person. Not disgusted by it either, indifferent really, but I just wanted to make sure it's clear that I DO NOT have any kind of mustache fetish. I'm no freak, thank you.
In conclusion, this probably won't be the last mustache post I write, so this really isn't a conclusion. I think I was just gushing with mustache-fever, prompted by what I received in the mail yesterday. This is probably THE longest post I've written as of yet. Not sure if I'm particularly proud of that. Let's face it, I could write a book about my love for all things mustache............
...more word on book deals later.
Hope you enjoy this Coley!
Who doesn't love a good pun? Especially when it involves mustaches- Thus begins my long-winded explanation of my fixation with mustache-humor.
I speak, first and foremost, about the phenomenon knowns as fingerstaches(I've only recently found out that this is the official name, which was depressing considering I had previously thought that my friends and I came up with it). If you don't know what I'm talking about(though I think you do, since I only know of two people who read this blog and they are definitely both well aware), then I suggest you educate yourself, because you are missing out my friend. Below, you will find a visual manifestation of what I'm talking about.
As you can see, one merely draws a mustache upon the index finger(using a sharpie or what-have-you), and then places said finger betwixt the nose and mouth, in a manner mimicking the actual presence of a mustache.
Fingerstaches are hilarious. Plain and simple. In fact, I think the simplicity of the concept is really the key to its humor. Perhaps it's just the fact that something so commonplace can be made to look so utterly ridiculous, merely by tattooing it temporarily onto a bodily appendage, that makes it so enjoyable for me.
And it doesn't stop there. Oh no. Out of finger staches there has emerged a slew of mustache related items that are now being produced to my utter . Since my friends and family are fully aware of my stache-obsession, I now own all of the following items:
- Various adhesive mustaches from vending machines.
- A removable, full-form fake mustache- purchased in a novelty store in Cleveland.
- A mustache mug- picturing famous mustaches belonging to such individuals as Salvidor Dali, Mark Twain, and Freud... as well as Frida Kahlo's eyebrows.
- Fingerstache tattoos- including various styles and sent across the country to me by a friend in Pittsburgh who knew that it would mean that much.
- A gigantic mustache magnet- I have yet to figure out what to do with this Christmas present, besides clearing everything else of the fridge and sticking it on there, because it would literally take up that much room.
- And now, at last, a mustache joke t-shirt!-actually the same joke that I began with, and sent to me just yesterday me by my friend in Denver, who saw it and bought it for me without hesitation, for which I am forever grateful.
I would like to add that, despite the sheer giddiness a good fingerstache induces in me, I do not particularly enjoy them in their natural state. That is, I'm not really attracted to facial fuzz on an actual person. Not disgusted by it either, indifferent really, but I just wanted to make sure it's clear that I DO NOT have any kind of mustache fetish. I'm no freak, thank you.
In conclusion, this probably won't be the last mustache post I write, so this really isn't a conclusion. I think I was just gushing with mustache-fever, prompted by what I received in the mail yesterday. This is probably THE longest post I've written as of yet. Not sure if I'm particularly proud of that. Let's face it, I could write a book about my love for all things mustache............
...more word on book deals later.
Hope you enjoy this Coley!
Monday, February 14, 2011
I've been rather neglectful.
I was assigned a blogpost today for my assignment, so naturally I was thinking about my neglected blog here. I guess part of the reason I neglect it is because I still don't know what the point of it is. So far I've just been talking about myself and whatever random things are on my mind. I don't know, maybe that's the definition of a personal blog. Hopefully I'll do better from here on out...
It's Valentine's Day, so I suppose I could go the predictable route of posting kitschy songs or something, or going the other direction entirely by branding the day as a materialistic ploy or declaring my defiantly proud single status.
I don't really feel like doing either, though. Valentine's Day is nice. I don't feel the need to go on and on about it, but I've always enjoyed it. It's a good reminder to tell your friends and family that you love them - and vice versa - since we usually don't stop to do that. I actually am listening to a cute little VDay song a friend sent me... and I may have just sent a sappy facebook message to my friends back home.
I'm not going to say that I'm overly happy to be single. I don't have a problem with it, and I'm certainly happy the way things are, but it would be nice to have someone around who gives you butterflies, or who you can brag to your Grandma about. I'm not longing, but I guess I can't say I'm not looking.
Ok, I lied. I'm going to post a cute valentine that a friend of mine sent me. She knows how stressed reporting for the newspaper has been making me, so this was quite appropriate.
It's Valentine's Day, so I suppose I could go the predictable route of posting kitschy songs or something, or going the other direction entirely by branding the day as a materialistic ploy or declaring my defiantly proud single status.
I don't really feel like doing either, though. Valentine's Day is nice. I don't feel the need to go on and on about it, but I've always enjoyed it. It's a good reminder to tell your friends and family that you love them - and vice versa - since we usually don't stop to do that. I actually am listening to a cute little VDay song a friend sent me... and I may have just sent a sappy facebook message to my friends back home.
I'm not going to say that I'm overly happy to be single. I don't have a problem with it, and I'm certainly happy the way things are, but it would be nice to have someone around who gives you butterflies, or who you can brag to your Grandma about. I'm not longing, but I guess I can't say I'm not looking.
Ok, I lied. I'm going to post a cute valentine that a friend of mine sent me. She knows how stressed reporting for the newspaper has been making me, so this was quite appropriate.
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Oh that's right, I have a blog!
I'd love to go ahead and tell myself that I'm going to keep up more regularly, but I'd only be lying to myself if I didn't recognize the fact that I'm only posting right now because I should be doing other things.
I have a daunting amount of untouched homework right now as well as an article due for the newspaper tomorrow, and on top of being a source short I have no idea what I'm talking about in it. I'm writing for the our school newspaper now. It's pretty exciting, my first article was published on the front page on Tuesday. That was really cool. I really only co-wrote the article with a more seasoned reporter that I was shadowing, but it was still pretty exciting.
Even though the pay-off is rewarding, writing the stories themselves is proving to be ridiculously stressful at the moment. I know I'm still learning, but I really hope it's going to get better, and by better I mean more interesting/I'll have more of an idea of what I'm doing/I won't procrastinate as much/I won't make a complete ass of myself. We'll just have to wait and see I guess. One thing I can assure you right now, it's going to be a looooooong semester.
I have a daunting amount of untouched homework right now as well as an article due for the newspaper tomorrow, and on top of being a source short I have no idea what I'm talking about in it. I'm writing for the our school newspaper now. It's pretty exciting, my first article was published on the front page on Tuesday. That was really cool. I really only co-wrote the article with a more seasoned reporter that I was shadowing, but it was still pretty exciting.
Even though the pay-off is rewarding, writing the stories themselves is proving to be ridiculously stressful at the moment. I know I'm still learning, but I really hope it's going to get better, and by better I mean more interesting/I'll have more of an idea of what I'm doing/I won't procrastinate as much/I won't make a complete ass of myself. We'll just have to wait and see I guess. One thing I can assure you right now, it's going to be a looooooong semester.
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Aaaaaaaaand we're back
...at school, that is. I have to say it really feels like I never left. I can't wait to catch up with everyone and see the campus again. It's so beautiful here. Admittedly, I'm not overly excited for classes to start, but it doesn't really dampen the rest at all.
I'm so freakin lucky. That's about it.
I'm so freakin lucky. That's about it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)