More questions. Have at it.
1) We all know you've gotten a hidden talent for performing. Would you ever do a variety show for more than just your co-workers? Like when you blow up, "Special guest host for SNL, T-Dot."
Um, YEAH! I'd love to do that. And really, it doesn't even have to be SNL. I'll settle for karaoke in Vegas. Anybody game?
2) Is there anything you DON'T like about our chosen profession?
Man, there's a whole lot I don't like about our profession. I don't like the way we are not properly trained to use new equipment or to take leadership roles (which results in bad management). I dislike the long hours. I dislike the catty behavior that exists in the newsroom -- I'd much rather see a more familial atmosphere or at least someone extending a helping hand. I dislike walking up to the doorstep of someone who has died and asking their family to tell me about them. (But I love the stories they tell once they invite me in.) But as much as I dislike, the things I like, such as the civic responsibility we have, outweigh them.
3) What were the prime factors in your decision to attend Hampton?
Location, location, location. Namely that it wasn't Flint. Nah, seriously, I wanted to go to a black college because, growing up in Flint, I didn't have a lot of people around me who had any goals or were working to do anything but slang rock or work in the Shop. So I wanted to go where I could see black people doing something with their lives. For me, it was between Hampton and that other HU. I wanted to go to an HBCU, but I'm from the midwest: you can't trick me into going too many places that top 95 degrees. Both HU's had great journalism programs: the other's was a little more established, but Hampton had some promising things happening. I took a tour to visit Hampton first and it was a wrap. I fell in love with the campus. I fell in love with the people. I fell in love with the speed that Hampton offered. I later visited the other HU and though I love D.C. (it's one of my favorite cities) I'm glad I didn't go to school there. It's very fast paced and offers a lot of distractions. Hampton, though smaller, forced me to cultivate relationships and focus on my studies, which was paramount to me not getting pregnant and moving back to Flint. So it all works out, you see?
4) If you've possibly had a singular moment or occurrence that could define you at 23, what was it? What happened and how did you handle it?
I'd like to think I'm the result of everything that has happened to me, not a particular moment in time. I mean, there are so many defining moments in my life: growing up the youngest in my family. Living in the ghetto. going to Hampton. the Script fiasco. Friends from high school and college. Moving to Rhode Island. Internships across the country. Stories I've done and people I've met. And hopefully, a lot more things to come.
5) Since you got me with one, I'm definitely going to need you to spill the beans about an embarrassing story from high school.
I don't have one from high school (I can't think of one right now), but I do have one from elementary school. Stop me if you've heard this one before. So, my school had a talent show and invited all of the students to sign up. I gathered a bunch of my girls and we signed up. What were we gonna do? Dance. To what you say? M.C. Hammer.
The day of the talent show came and we hadn't rehearsed one bit. My friends came up to me wondering what we were going to do. Calmly, I said, "Oh, just follow my lead." To this day, I have no idea where that confidence came from. Anyway, it was our turn and we got on stage. I may have even worn my Hammer Pants that day (they were pink and black). The music starts and I look out at the crowd. At that moment, I start to panic. I don't know how to dance and I don't know what I'm going to do. The music is playing now. My feet are cemented to the floor. Behind me, my friends are saying my name, trying to get me to move.
Oh, I moved alright. Right off that stage and out of the gym. I ran to my classroom, sat at my desk, put my head down and cried. I dried my tears and waited for class to start. When everyone came in from lunch, they laughed at me. But I just shrugged it off. Yeah, so maybe my whole fascination with the spotlight is because I have something to prove. Bet ya'll won't laugh at me any more.
6) Flint, Hampton, Rhode Island. One of these doesn't fit. Wassup for the next 3,5,10 years? I don't imagine Providence has a very...fertile...dating scene.
Got that right.
Considering a pretty young thing such as me has been in the 401 for just about two years and has only been on two wack dates, I'd say Providence has a problem. Cuz it sho' nuff ain't me.
I came to RI for the job opportunity, not to get preggers. So it's actually worked out for me. As far as what's next, who knows? I go where opportunity calls. I'd like to go to a larger metro along the East Coast or in the South. But really, I'll settle for any place I can get a good 2 piece and a biscuit with some mac n' cheese. Oh, and I suppose a little more diversity in the dating scene wouldn't hurt either.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Thursday, June 21, 2007
The Interview -- Part Dos
So, I like attention.
I asked more people to interview me (*ahem* to those who have yet to provide me with new questions). One of the people I tapped was my boy, Jarrod. Gotta love him, but the questions and answers below are a case study as to why your best friend should not interview you. I'm sure he'd say the same thing.
Want to get in on the fun? Leave your interview request in the comments box. Want to ask me something? Do the same. I'll holla.
1. Why be a reporter? The pay sucks and you'll have to move around a lot until you can make some serious money.
Simply put: because I wanted to save the world. No lie. I've always liked helping people. And when I was younger, I started looking at professions that would allow me to do that. After a few inquiries, I found I could get paid to write. I was good at it and wrote all the time (I was a quiet kid, so I journaled a lot). I looked into it. Found out that journalists are charged with righting the wrongs of the world, speaking truth to power and standing up for the voiceless and disenfranchised. I wanted to be a part of that. Honestly, I figured that all journalism made a difference. That's what carried me through all of my internships. I believed that even if I was writing a profile on a valedictorian or a budget story, it would impact someone's life. They were looking to me to provide the information they needed to live their lives, or expecting me to immortalize a significant event in their life. I took that seriously. Wow, did I just write that in past tense?
Not making a lot of money never bothered me. I've been poor before. I'm poor now. I know how to be poor. I'd like to have money, but until I get it, I'll be straight. As far as the travelling, that was another thing that drew me to the profession. I grew up in Flint - not exactly paradise - so I was yearning to get out. I figured I could use my job to see the country - or the world. And tell good stories along the way. So it was a win-win situation.
2. Does your relationship with your father (or lack of one) factor in to the type of men you date?
*Sigh*
I'd like to say that it doesn't, but I'm sure that on some level, it does. For those who may not know, my father hasn't really been in my life since I was maybe 7 or 8 years old. I still see him at family functions. But I haven't really talked to him in years. We say hi and bye, but he knows nothing about me.
My mother taught her children to be independent. We didn't have a father in the house, so we saw my mom doing the traditional "male" roles. She worked - hard - as a laborer on the assembly line for Buick. She disciplined - with the iron fist and the skinny belt - when we were out of line. She was intimidating to the knuckleheads who tried to mess with my sister and I. Seeing her, I realized I didn't need a man to kill a bug for me or to carry my bags. I could do them myself. I prided myself on my independence. Then, since I was petite as well, I got a kick out of showing the guys that I was just as strong, fearless and capable as they were. To this day, I don't let anyone make me believe I am inferior for any reason.
It wasn't until I got to Hampton that I realized that just because I could do things on my own didn't mean I had to. Oddly enough, I dated guys who needed to do things for me to feel like men. We often had arguments when I'd pay for my food at Burger King or something else silly like that. In my head, I was helping: we were all college students. He couldn't afford to pay for me all of the time and I wouldn't expect him to. To him, I was emasculating him; depriving him of the ability to provide for me. Over time, I realized that and I began to soften. I started to understand that sometimes, that's how people show you they like you - by providing for you. I didn't know that men could do that just because they liked you - not expecting anything in return. I had to learn that lesson at 22.
I could blame my father for not showing me how a man is supposed to treat me or for giving me a good example of what love is. But really, it's no use. I figured out most of it, though I'm still learning. But I never look for a man to validate, complete or sustain me. For the man that eventually finds me, I'll want to let him open my doors, kill my spiders and protect me in a thunderstorm. But first, I know I have to be whole and capable of living on my own. I guess I can thank my dad for that.
3. If you hadn't grown up in Flint the way you did, would you be the same person you are today?
No way. Growing up in Flint completely shaped who I am and where I am today. It's one of the most dangerous cities in America. And I call it home.
I grew up in the ghetto. Please, don't be fooled and think otherwise. On my block alone, there were no less than 4 drug houses. I always chilled at my friends' houses because their parents wouldn't let their kids travel into my neighborhood. When I was still in elementary school, I was held up at gunpoint on my front porch.
Flint made me observant. I had to be. I always got a read on someone - and on the situation - before I opened my mouth to speak. I took notice of where I was and who was around me at all times - a trait that came in handy when I started using my observations to tell stories in my career. Flint made me hard. I knew I couldn't fight, but that if necessary, I'd go down fighting. Which is probably why I'm so feisty now. I couldn't let anyone punk me. I couldn't show emotion. So I developed - and perfected - a blank stare. It's intense, yet shows no sign of what's going on behind my eyes. It's my poker face. And it's gotten me out of more fights and sticky situations than I care to remember. Flint made me motivated. I looked around and didn't like what I saw. I knew that I needed to get out. So that's what I focused on. I studied in school. I stayed off of the streets. I read. For 17 years I had only two goals: graduate high school and not get pregnant. That was it. Once I had graduating in the bag, I still had to work on getting out. So I picked Hampton, a school far away from Flint where I wouldn't be caught in the crossfire of old beefs and the same ole people. Hampton also represented another opportunity: the chance to see black people doing something with their lives. Not selling drugs. Not in jail. Not on government assistance. Just doing their thing and doing it well. I needed that.
Once I got out, I focused on staying out. My freshman year, my goals were again, simple: don't flunk out and get sent back to Flint, and don't get pregnant. I made it all four years on that mantra. I had gotten out. I didn't want people to be able to say that I failed and was forced to return home because I couldn't cut it. So I worked hard. I got internships to keep me out of trouble in the summer. My work there left me with stellar recommendations that I used to get my first job. They also allowed me to see the country - or at least parts of it. I realized there was more to life than Michigan. And I wanted to see everything that life had to offer.
So, simply put, if I hadn't grown up in Flint, the way that I did, there's no possible way I could be the person I am today. Period.
4. What effect did that "situation" at Hampton have on you?
I kinda dislike you for this question, Jarrod. Seriously. Okay. I'd like to think it made me stronger. And it did. I learned something. That everyone does not have your best interests at heart and that first and foremost, I have to be out for self. And read the writing on the wall. Always. I think it also taught me how to see through some bull when all I want to see is roses. I had to hit rock bottom before I could see it, but the climb back up was empowering. It made me realize I never want to be treated that way again. And that no person should ever have to learn that lesson through experience.
But mostly, I think it killed my idealism. I'm optimistic anyway. So I always look for the bright side in things and the best in people. I always thought that if you were a good person and treated people well, someone would love you. I thought people were decent like that. Like, before they screw you, they'd think, "Hey, T-Dot's a good woman. She doesn't deserve this. If I'm going to do this, let me stop messing with her."
But they don't. And that's what kills me because I'm mad upfront with cats. Because I knew somewhere deep down that people can be bastards sometimes. I always say, "if there's something else you want, something I can't give you, just let me know. I'll let you go and be happy." It hurts when you give them an out and they trample all over you anyway.
So what does that mean for future cats? I honestly don't know. I've been kinda steering away from relationships because I'm really tempted to go back to being independent woman. But I don't want the bitterness and trust issues thrown in the mix. So I pray. And I ask God to work with me. And I tell Him that I'm not picking any more guys because clearly I have bad taste. I'm waiting for the one He sends me. I'm just praying that one understands.
5. On some real sh--, how sexy am I on a scale of 1-10?
Yes! Finally, the nitty-gritty. Let's say one is not sexy at all and 10 is when you step in the room I want to rip your clothes off. And if I disregard the list, the tounge ring phase and the fact that you're from Jersey...In that case, I'd say a 7.62 or an 8. You're confident and funny. What's sexier?
I asked more people to interview me (*ahem* to those who have yet to provide me with new questions). One of the people I tapped was my boy, Jarrod. Gotta love him, but the questions and answers below are a case study as to why your best friend should not interview you. I'm sure he'd say the same thing.
Want to get in on the fun? Leave your interview request in the comments box. Want to ask me something? Do the same. I'll holla.
1. Why be a reporter? The pay sucks and you'll have to move around a lot until you can make some serious money.
Simply put: because I wanted to save the world. No lie. I've always liked helping people. And when I was younger, I started looking at professions that would allow me to do that. After a few inquiries, I found I could get paid to write. I was good at it and wrote all the time (I was a quiet kid, so I journaled a lot). I looked into it. Found out that journalists are charged with righting the wrongs of the world, speaking truth to power and standing up for the voiceless and disenfranchised. I wanted to be a part of that. Honestly, I figured that all journalism made a difference. That's what carried me through all of my internships. I believed that even if I was writing a profile on a valedictorian or a budget story, it would impact someone's life. They were looking to me to provide the information they needed to live their lives, or expecting me to immortalize a significant event in their life. I took that seriously. Wow, did I just write that in past tense?
Not making a lot of money never bothered me. I've been poor before. I'm poor now. I know how to be poor. I'd like to have money, but until I get it, I'll be straight. As far as the travelling, that was another thing that drew me to the profession. I grew up in Flint - not exactly paradise - so I was yearning to get out. I figured I could use my job to see the country - or the world. And tell good stories along the way. So it was a win-win situation.
2. Does your relationship with your father (or lack of one) factor in to the type of men you date?
*Sigh*
I'd like to say that it doesn't, but I'm sure that on some level, it does. For those who may not know, my father hasn't really been in my life since I was maybe 7 or 8 years old. I still see him at family functions. But I haven't really talked to him in years. We say hi and bye, but he knows nothing about me.
My mother taught her children to be independent. We didn't have a father in the house, so we saw my mom doing the traditional "male" roles. She worked - hard - as a laborer on the assembly line for Buick. She disciplined - with the iron fist and the skinny belt - when we were out of line. She was intimidating to the knuckleheads who tried to mess with my sister and I. Seeing her, I realized I didn't need a man to kill a bug for me or to carry my bags. I could do them myself. I prided myself on my independence. Then, since I was petite as well, I got a kick out of showing the guys that I was just as strong, fearless and capable as they were. To this day, I don't let anyone make me believe I am inferior for any reason.
It wasn't until I got to Hampton that I realized that just because I could do things on my own didn't mean I had to. Oddly enough, I dated guys who needed to do things for me to feel like men. We often had arguments when I'd pay for my food at Burger King or something else silly like that. In my head, I was helping: we were all college students. He couldn't afford to pay for me all of the time and I wouldn't expect him to. To him, I was emasculating him; depriving him of the ability to provide for me. Over time, I realized that and I began to soften. I started to understand that sometimes, that's how people show you they like you - by providing for you. I didn't know that men could do that just because they liked you - not expecting anything in return. I had to learn that lesson at 22.
I could blame my father for not showing me how a man is supposed to treat me or for giving me a good example of what love is. But really, it's no use. I figured out most of it, though I'm still learning. But I never look for a man to validate, complete or sustain me. For the man that eventually finds me, I'll want to let him open my doors, kill my spiders and protect me in a thunderstorm. But first, I know I have to be whole and capable of living on my own. I guess I can thank my dad for that.
3. If you hadn't grown up in Flint the way you did, would you be the same person you are today?
No way. Growing up in Flint completely shaped who I am and where I am today. It's one of the most dangerous cities in America. And I call it home.
I grew up in the ghetto. Please, don't be fooled and think otherwise. On my block alone, there were no less than 4 drug houses. I always chilled at my friends' houses because their parents wouldn't let their kids travel into my neighborhood. When I was still in elementary school, I was held up at gunpoint on my front porch.
Flint made me observant. I had to be. I always got a read on someone - and on the situation - before I opened my mouth to speak. I took notice of where I was and who was around me at all times - a trait that came in handy when I started using my observations to tell stories in my career. Flint made me hard. I knew I couldn't fight, but that if necessary, I'd go down fighting. Which is probably why I'm so feisty now. I couldn't let anyone punk me. I couldn't show emotion. So I developed - and perfected - a blank stare. It's intense, yet shows no sign of what's going on behind my eyes. It's my poker face. And it's gotten me out of more fights and sticky situations than I care to remember. Flint made me motivated. I looked around and didn't like what I saw. I knew that I needed to get out. So that's what I focused on. I studied in school. I stayed off of the streets. I read. For 17 years I had only two goals: graduate high school and not get pregnant. That was it. Once I had graduating in the bag, I still had to work on getting out. So I picked Hampton, a school far away from Flint where I wouldn't be caught in the crossfire of old beefs and the same ole people. Hampton also represented another opportunity: the chance to see black people doing something with their lives. Not selling drugs. Not in jail. Not on government assistance. Just doing their thing and doing it well. I needed that.
Once I got out, I focused on staying out. My freshman year, my goals were again, simple: don't flunk out and get sent back to Flint, and don't get pregnant. I made it all four years on that mantra. I had gotten out. I didn't want people to be able to say that I failed and was forced to return home because I couldn't cut it. So I worked hard. I got internships to keep me out of trouble in the summer. My work there left me with stellar recommendations that I used to get my first job. They also allowed me to see the country - or at least parts of it. I realized there was more to life than Michigan. And I wanted to see everything that life had to offer.
So, simply put, if I hadn't grown up in Flint, the way that I did, there's no possible way I could be the person I am today. Period.
4. What effect did that "situation" at Hampton have on you?
I kinda dislike you for this question, Jarrod. Seriously. Okay. I'd like to think it made me stronger. And it did. I learned something. That everyone does not have your best interests at heart and that first and foremost, I have to be out for self. And read the writing on the wall. Always. I think it also taught me how to see through some bull when all I want to see is roses. I had to hit rock bottom before I could see it, but the climb back up was empowering. It made me realize I never want to be treated that way again. And that no person should ever have to learn that lesson through experience.
But mostly, I think it killed my idealism. I'm optimistic anyway. So I always look for the bright side in things and the best in people. I always thought that if you were a good person and treated people well, someone would love you. I thought people were decent like that. Like, before they screw you, they'd think, "Hey, T-Dot's a good woman. She doesn't deserve this. If I'm going to do this, let me stop messing with her."
But they don't. And that's what kills me because I'm mad upfront with cats. Because I knew somewhere deep down that people can be bastards sometimes. I always say, "if there's something else you want, something I can't give you, just let me know. I'll let you go and be happy." It hurts when you give them an out and they trample all over you anyway.
So what does that mean for future cats? I honestly don't know. I've been kinda steering away from relationships because I'm really tempted to go back to being independent woman. But I don't want the bitterness and trust issues thrown in the mix. So I pray. And I ask God to work with me. And I tell Him that I'm not picking any more guys because clearly I have bad taste. I'm waiting for the one He sends me. I'm just praying that one understands.
5. On some real sh--, how sexy am I on a scale of 1-10?
Yes! Finally, the nitty-gritty. Let's say one is not sexy at all and 10 is when you step in the room I want to rip your clothes off. And if I disregard the list, the tounge ring phase and the fact that you're from Jersey...In that case, I'd say a 7.62 or an 8. You're confident and funny. What's sexier?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Ole`
Meet Miguel. He's my new boo. We met last weekend when I was vacationing in St. Petersburg, Fla. with my girl, Jessie.
We'd just come from Poynter and were on our way to the hotel to get ready for some outing when I spotted them.
*Gasp*
"Look, Jessie -- MARIACHI'S!"
I fumble with my camera to try to get a photo of the group of Hispanic men in small yellow jackets as they crossed the street. By the time I was poised to take the picture, they were almost out of sight.
I pouted for 1/2 a second.
Then Jessie screeches to a halt in a waiting parking spot.
"Go!" she screams and I look at her for a second, dazed. "They're still there. WE CAN CATCH THEM."
This, my friends, is why I love Jessie.
So we scramble out of the car and run toward the mariachi's. They have really crossed the street now and I reason there's no way I can catch up with them.
"He's coming back," Jessie yells.
I look to my left and there he is.
Miguel.
I accost him and ask for a photo. He obliges. Jessie takes one, too.
We scamper back to our car, but not before wishing Miguel and his bandmates a good show.
Back in the car, we grin at our good fortune and vow our love to the one and only Miguel.
Monday, June 18, 2007
The Interview
I begged Jameil to interview me (even though I'm a day late and a dolla' short). Everybody is getting in on the fun. If you to interview me, just holla at me. Wanna be interviewed, likewise (though I'm sure everyone and their momma has already been interviewed by now).
1) what was the best date you ever went on?
I haven't been on very many dates, let alone good ones, so I suppose my best date was when I was at HU. It was with this Alpha from Norfolk State that I met at a greek party. Robert was tall, dark skinned, bald and had a megawatt smile. At the party, we talked for a while (because I'm not one to dance a lot) and he was just really funny. Exchanged numbers and - surprise - he calls. We agree to meet in Norfolk for dinner and chilling. We go to Mary Alice's (Hampton ppl help me out -- the soul food place where Waterfront performs in Norfolk near Jillians) and have a great time. The restaurant has a live jazz band so we had some ambiance. I find out dude is even more interesting than I originally thought at the party. The night is still young when we finish our meal, so we head over to Jillians for some gaming. Jillian's is kind of like Chuck E. Cheese for adults - but no ball pits. Anyway, so we head over and play skee ball, a rowing game (my arms hurt afterwards) and some shooting games. We stayed out for a while, just kicking it. Afterward, he drove me to my car and we parted ways, promising to hang out again soon. That was senior year. I don't remember all of the details, but I think I went out of town and when I came back, hooked up with an ex or something else ridiculously stupid like that. Robert called me a few times and we talked, but never got a chance to get back together.
2) i remember one of the people from your freshman year internship talking about how amazing you are, so I know you're ambitious. What is your long-term goal?
To be happy. Seriously, I'm still figuring all of that out. I think I'd like to spend some years at The New York Times. That might be cool. And I know I want to travel. And win a Pulitzer - or at least a Livingston Award. Other than that, I just want to tell some good stories, whether they be in West Warwick, R.I., New Orleans, or Pierce, Idaho. That's my long-term goal.
3) you know how we're all starting to feel a bit old for most popular music? what do you find yourself bumpin anyway?
I feel completely out of date, so I don't even try anymore. I thoroughly detest Pretty Ricky, so that pretty much rules out any Hip Hop station within a 150 mile radius of Providence. A wonderful friend of mine burned the entire Outkast library for me so I've been bumping that for a bit. (Disclaimer: I had all of the CDs but in 2004, my car was broken into an they were stolen. I hadn't gotten around to rebuying them. I know it is a cardinal sin to burn Outkast, but I figured in this instance, it would be okay.) Bumping Lupe Fiasco's Food & Liquor. Dietrick Hadden's 7 Days, WOW Gospel 2006, some mix CD's I've accumulated over the years (thanks Shida & Mike), and Group 1 Crew.
4) what's your favorite city and why?
I think my favorite city has been and always will be Washington, D.C. The district holds just so many great memories for me and everytime I go there, I learn something new about the city I love.
5) who's your favorite comedian?
I think probably Richard Pryor. I haven't heard everything of his, but what I have heard is always fantastic. And his standups? Genius.
1) what was the best date you ever went on?
I haven't been on very many dates, let alone good ones, so I suppose my best date was when I was at HU. It was with this Alpha from Norfolk State that I met at a greek party. Robert was tall, dark skinned, bald and had a megawatt smile. At the party, we talked for a while (because I'm not one to dance a lot) and he was just really funny. Exchanged numbers and - surprise - he calls. We agree to meet in Norfolk for dinner and chilling. We go to Mary Alice's (Hampton ppl help me out -- the soul food place where Waterfront performs in Norfolk near Jillians) and have a great time. The restaurant has a live jazz band so we had some ambiance. I find out dude is even more interesting than I originally thought at the party. The night is still young when we finish our meal, so we head over to Jillians for some gaming. Jillian's is kind of like Chuck E. Cheese for adults - but no ball pits. Anyway, so we head over and play skee ball, a rowing game (my arms hurt afterwards) and some shooting games. We stayed out for a while, just kicking it. Afterward, he drove me to my car and we parted ways, promising to hang out again soon. That was senior year. I don't remember all of the details, but I think I went out of town and when I came back, hooked up with an ex or something else ridiculously stupid like that. Robert called me a few times and we talked, but never got a chance to get back together.
2) i remember one of the people from your freshman year internship talking about how amazing you are, so I know you're ambitious. What is your long-term goal?
To be happy. Seriously, I'm still figuring all of that out. I think I'd like to spend some years at The New York Times. That might be cool. And I know I want to travel. And win a Pulitzer - or at least a Livingston Award. Other than that, I just want to tell some good stories, whether they be in West Warwick, R.I., New Orleans, or Pierce, Idaho. That's my long-term goal.
3) you know how we're all starting to feel a bit old for most popular music? what do you find yourself bumpin anyway?
I feel completely out of date, so I don't even try anymore. I thoroughly detest Pretty Ricky, so that pretty much rules out any Hip Hop station within a 150 mile radius of Providence. A wonderful friend of mine burned the entire Outkast library for me so I've been bumping that for a bit. (Disclaimer: I had all of the CDs but in 2004, my car was broken into an they were stolen. I hadn't gotten around to rebuying them. I know it is a cardinal sin to burn Outkast, but I figured in this instance, it would be okay.) Bumping Lupe Fiasco's Food & Liquor. Dietrick Hadden's 7 Days, WOW Gospel 2006, some mix CD's I've accumulated over the years (thanks Shida & Mike), and Group 1 Crew.
4) what's your favorite city and why?
I think my favorite city has been and always will be Washington, D.C. The district holds just so many great memories for me and everytime I go there, I learn something new about the city I love.
5) who's your favorite comedian?
I think probably Richard Pryor. I haven't heard everything of his, but what I have heard is always fantastic. And his standups? Genius.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Mmmm, Rocky Road
I'm going to go eat ice cream out of a carton now.
Sigh.
How did it come to this?
I know. I'm procrastinating. I'm checking Facebook. I'm entering contests in the Marie Claire I just bought. I'm sending e-mails. I'm looking at the clock. I'm writing this blog.
All because I don't want to work.
Oh, make no mistake. It's Sunday evening and I am at home. But see, that's the gift and the curse of being a journalist: you can always take your work with you.
This week has been a pretty long rough one for me. I'm covering a trial which you'd think would be extremely exciting. It is. Until they start repeating themselves. Then I get sleepy.
I never was good with lectures.
Anyway, so I spend my day in the courthouse then rush back to the office to write my story for the next day's paper. In the meantime, my regular beat is feeling very neglected. I have to write an e-mail to the office Intern giving him some story ideas from my beat to follow up on this week. Yeah, I'm putting that off too.
So, after a week of covering a trial, I realized I have two -- really three or four -- stories that I have to write additionally. And they need to be in Tuesday's paper. At least two of them. So, here I am. At 8:48 p.m. Blogging instead of writing the two little stories I need to get me about my day and free myself from work until 9:30 tomorrow morning.
But, I don't want to.
I think I'll get that ice cream now.
(Disclaimer: I know full well that I will -- and I am -- going to write these stories. But I am procrastinating. So I figured I'd share my angst.)
Sigh.
How did it come to this?
I know. I'm procrastinating. I'm checking Facebook. I'm entering contests in the Marie Claire I just bought. I'm sending e-mails. I'm looking at the clock. I'm writing this blog.
All because I don't want to work.
Oh, make no mistake. It's Sunday evening and I am at home. But see, that's the gift and the curse of being a journalist: you can always take your work with you.
This week has been a pretty long rough one for me. I'm covering a trial which you'd think would be extremely exciting. It is. Until they start repeating themselves. Then I get sleepy.
I never was good with lectures.
Anyway, so I spend my day in the courthouse then rush back to the office to write my story for the next day's paper. In the meantime, my regular beat is feeling very neglected. I have to write an e-mail to the office Intern giving him some story ideas from my beat to follow up on this week. Yeah, I'm putting that off too.
So, after a week of covering a trial, I realized I have two -- really three or four -- stories that I have to write additionally. And they need to be in Tuesday's paper. At least two of them. So, here I am. At 8:48 p.m. Blogging instead of writing the two little stories I need to get me about my day and free myself from work until 9:30 tomorrow morning.
But, I don't want to.
I think I'll get that ice cream now.
(Disclaimer: I know full well that I will -- and I am -- going to write these stories. But I am procrastinating. So I figured I'd share my angst.)
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
This I Believe
...that reporters should have summer hours. My Town Hall closes at noon some days during the summer and doesn't stay open later than 3 p.m. others! I have to be here at least until 6 p.m.! Foolishness, I tell you. I'm lobbying the union.
...I'm not responsible for your insecurities. If you can't handle me being fantastic or festive, that's your problem, not mine. I will not shrink in order to allow you to feel tall.
...I should be able to find whiting, perch and catfish FRESH at any respectable fish market/butcher/grocery store. In New England, I haven't been able to find anything but cod, haddock and swordfish. I just want a good fish fry.
... peach iced tea is the best drink ever concocted by man.
...At all times, personal space should be respected. If you feel the need to whisper a secret to me, do so no closer than 6 inches from my ear -- never speak to me six inches from my face. It's unacceptable. I want to hear your secret; not smell your breath.
...If you are going to wear a belt, don't wear suspenders. If you want to wear suspenders, leave your belt at home. Under no circumstances should you wear both at the same time.
...Just as people with a little weight should not be made fun of, people should not be ridiculed because they are naturally thin. And asking if they are "eating properly" is completely inappropriate.
...I'm not responsible for your insecurities. If you can't handle me being fantastic or festive, that's your problem, not mine. I will not shrink in order to allow you to feel tall.
...I should be able to find whiting, perch and catfish FRESH at any respectable fish market/butcher/grocery store. In New England, I haven't been able to find anything but cod, haddock and swordfish. I just want a good fish fry.
... peach iced tea is the best drink ever concocted by man.
...At all times, personal space should be respected. If you feel the need to whisper a secret to me, do so no closer than 6 inches from my ear -- never speak to me six inches from my face. It's unacceptable. I want to hear your secret; not smell your breath.
...If you are going to wear a belt, don't wear suspenders. If you want to wear suspenders, leave your belt at home. Under no circumstances should you wear both at the same time.
...Just as people with a little weight should not be made fun of, people should not be ridiculed because they are naturally thin. And asking if they are "eating properly" is completely inappropriate.
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