Tuesday, July 31, 2007

I am the keeper of the songs of everyone

I've been designing local covers so far this week. I think it's a great opportunity to amass some decent clips. It's so hard to believe there're only a few weeks left before I have to go back home. I can't stress enough how much I'm going to miss this place, how much I want to come back next year, how much I want to be part of it all full time.

So tomorrow I'm set to be a model for a few hours. Never done that before. Should be interesting and fun.

Screw the Providence rule about no parking on the street overnight. Whoever made that was a fool. I finally got ticketed last Saturday night (technically it was Sunday, because it was at 3 a.m. when the ticket was written). I feel bad for the cops they make go out in the wee hours of the morning and write tickets for every car out on the street between the hours of 1 and 7 a.m. Besides, it's not like the street I live on is so narrow that you can't see to go around the cars at night. It's hard enough during the day on some of the more narrow streets. I figure, though, if I can keep this up, getting one ticket a week, it'll still be better than paying $125 a month for a parking space half a mile away.

Looks like Dow Jones is going to Rupert Murdoch. You can't imagine how pissed this makes me. I utterly loathe the man and his News Corporation, which I believe is slowly eroding the high professional standards and ethics journalism and news coverage used to possess. There's no doubt in my mind he'll turn around The Wall Street Journal and slash and burn at smaller Dow Jones papers like The Standard-Times. It's just sad. There's a distinct probability I'll be working for that man sometime next year.

So about a week and a half ago I finally got my hands on Anthony Bourdain's "Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly" and have been vigorously tearing into it every day since. It's become probably one of my favorite books. It's humorously well written and combines everything I love: food, cooking, vigilantes living life on the edge, music and even a little booze now and then (all right, maybe the book contains a bit more than a little). At any rate, if any of you culinarians haven't read this book yet (I'd be surprised if there were some among you), I highly suggest you do. Bourdain has become a very high-ranking idol of mine, right up there with the likes of Ian Anderson and Mario Batali.

Monday, July 23, 2007

Out on a wire

My days as wire guru at The Standard-Times ended last Friday. I had been on wire duty for two weeks, while Kenny was on vacation. It was quite the experience and gave me a slight feeling of power, knowing I was making key decisions about what was going in the paper, what readers would look at (or, more likely, skip over) the next day. After a while, I noticed the design aspect of it was kind of limited, and got kind of bored as the same stories kept popping up and I lost inspiration as to how to tackle the page layout.

Still, I'm sure it'll serve me well in the future, having experience pulling wire, making decisions as to newsworthiness of stories and designing World & Nation, State & Region and Business pages. As it seems, I may be making a return to New Bedford sometime after graduation ...

It's so hard to believe there're only about three more weeks left of my internship. Ten weeks just aren't enough, I think. Still, I also get the feeling that I don't need to learn anything else from a classroom. I wish I could bypass my senior year and just get a degree and start work. I feel like I have everything I need, with three years in Newhouse and two amazing internships, one a Dow Jones internship, which last year I'd only dreamed of landing.

I look back at all the things I've accomplished in the past three years, and I find it hard to believe that before then, I didn't even konw what AP Style was, much less how to structure/write a news story. I had never heard of Rupert Murdoch, Dow Jones and had only read a scant few issues of The New York Times.

I wonder how all these things happen. And why to me, anyway? I don't consider myself anyone special or any more talented than the next guy. And yet here I am, "and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid, little life." (Lester Burnham, "American Beauty")

Thursday, July 19, 2007

Farewell to a farewell

"Often a man wishes to be alone and a girl wishes to be alone too and if they love each other they are jealous of that in each other, but I can truly say we never felt that. We could feel alone when we were together, alone against the others. It has only happened to me like that once. I have been alone while I was with many ... and that is the way that you can be most lonely. But we were never lonely and never afraid when we were together. I know that the night is not the same as the day: that all things are different, that the things of the night cannot be explained by the day, because they do not exist, and the night can be a dreadful time for lonely people once their loneliness has started."
- Ernest Hemingway, "A Farewell to Arms"

Thursday, July 05, 2007

A farewell to arms ... and innocence

"I had gone to no such place but to the smoke of cafes and nights when the room whirled and you needed to look at the wall to make it stop, nights in bed, drunk, when you knew that that was all there was, and the strange excitement of waking and not knowing who it was with you, and the world all unreal in the dark and so exciting that you must resume again unknowing and not caring in the night, sure that this was all and all and all and not caring. Suddenly to care very much and to sleep and to wake with it sometimes morning and all that had been there gone and everything sharp and hard and clear ... Sometimes still pleasant and fond and warm and breakfast and lunch. Sometimes all niceness gone and glad to get out on the street but always another day starting and then another night. I tried to tell about the night ... and I could not tell it; as I cannot tell it now. But if you have had it you know."
- Ernest Hemingway, "A Farewell to Arms"