I also saw the new Martin Short musical, which was pretty amusing. Jon Cryer was the guest star, and Short's Jiminy Glick character interviewed him, referring to him many times as "Duckie", the beloved underdog from "Pretty in Pink." He is better known to this generation's television audience as the doofy Alan from"Two and a Half Men." The show chronicles Short's life with caricature sketches of his different accomplishments. It plays on his need to be recognized and adored at all times, and honestly, the songs are catchy and amusing. It's a good night of mindless entertainment, which sometimes is a good thing. (At that time, having just finished most of my final projects for the semester, it was much-needed.)
Monday, December 11, 2006
Fame Becomes Me
New York, New York. The city that never sleeps. Seriously. But New York at Christmastime is beautiful and wonderful and amazing. First of all, Rockefeller Center looked lovely with its famous tree and ice skaters. It was too cold to stay outside for too long, so skating that weekend was out of the question. The windows at Saks were astounding as usual, with toys and puppets and extravagant decorations. 
I also saw the new Martin Short musical, which was pretty amusing. Jon Cryer was the guest star, and Short's Jiminy Glick character interviewed him, referring to him many times as "Duckie", the beloved underdog from "Pretty in Pink." He is better known to this generation's television audience as the doofy Alan from"Two and a Half Men." The show chronicles Short's life with caricature sketches of his different accomplishments. It plays on his need to be recognized and adored at all times, and honestly, the songs are catchy and amusing. It's a good night of mindless entertainment, which sometimes is a good thing. (At that time, having just finished most of my final projects for the semester, it was much-needed.)
I also saw the new Martin Short musical, which was pretty amusing. Jon Cryer was the guest star, and Short's Jiminy Glick character interviewed him, referring to him many times as "Duckie", the beloved underdog from "Pretty in Pink." He is better known to this generation's television audience as the doofy Alan from"Two and a Half Men." The show chronicles Short's life with caricature sketches of his different accomplishments. It plays on his need to be recognized and adored at all times, and honestly, the songs are catchy and amusing. It's a good night of mindless entertainment, which sometimes is a good thing. (At that time, having just finished most of my final projects for the semester, it was much-needed.)
Sunday, December 03, 2006
The Outsiders
Anyone else remember this show? My friend Margie dug this up on You Tube. Don't you just love the 90s cheese? (Looking back on it, it appears to be a 90210 rip-off, I fear.)
Even though Margie and I met when we were in our 20s, I knew she'd be one of my favorite people because we (and her friend Danette) watched this show when we were in junior high. I think we were the only three people in the country watching it, because it promptly got cancelled at the end of the season. We're still waiting for the DVD box set, though! FOX Productions, hear our plea!
Here's how it all started:
Saturday, December 02, 2006
Character lacking in Sorkin show
I'm writing a paper for my Critical Methods of Television and Film class (one of three) about certain elements of Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, and I had a few thoughts about it which won't make it into the paper. Since I've been re-watching the entire season this weekend, I thought I would share them.
So far, I really like the show. Apparently NBC likes it too, because despite falling ratings, the network renewed the show for one more season. As usual, the Sorkin show is smarter than the average person, making all kinds of references that you'd need a PhD from Harvard to crack. (That probably explains the decreasing ratings.) But for me, I actually like the characters and their typical Sorkinesque dialogue. The veteran actors nicely round out the ensemble cast, and it all seems to work. In style, it's shot similarly to the West Wing, with long shots following the characters as they walk around in the "office", in this case, a television studio.
My biggest problem with the show is the Harriet Hayes character. I don't know if it's Sarah Paulson's acting or the character itself which rubs me the wrong way. The"moral", right-wing, Christian woman who is working in the "heathen's industry" of television, surrounded by drugs and loose people with no morals is a little hard to swallow. (No pun intended.)
Maybe Sorkin and his writing team can't relate to the character because they don't share the same convictions, nor do they know anyone who falls into that belief system. They really did a much better job of writing for Emily Proctor's Republican character on The West Wing who was much more likable and realistic.
Harriet spends every episode defending something that her character feels compelled to do - sing for some right-wing Christan group's charity event, do a lingerie spread in order to appear more sexy, yell at her bosses for doing sketches called "Crazy Christians" and "Science Shmience." Frankly, when Harriet scenes appear, I find myself groaning and wondering what her beef this week will be. The character is really flat, and that's a shame, considering that Sorkin has made his fame creating well-rounded characters who have both flaws and convictions.
Moreover, I can't get into the "lost love" storyline between Matt Albie (Matthew Perry) and Harriet. It's not believable, and I resent the Studio 60 team cramming it down my throat every week. Sadly, I don't care if they get together or not - really I am hoping for the latter - which is the worst possible building block for a TV romance. If the audience could care less about the characters hooking up, perhaps that storyline should be allowed to fade out?
So this is my plea to the Aaron Sorkin team (who, I'm sure are avidly reading this blog every week...ahem.) - please, meet some Republican Christians and befriend them, so that you can create a less annoying character that represents them acurately.
Ed. Note: I, myself, am not a Republican or a Christian, but I know enough of them to realize that they, generally, are not as irritating as Harriet Hayes. Many of them are much smarter than she is too... I'm sure Sarah Paulson would appreciate it if her character had some depth and didn't have to bitch about something lame in every single episode. I'm sick of watching it, so I can't imagine how she must feel. Of course, she is getting a (presumably) phat paycheck every week, so maybe she doesn't mind being the one flat character on the show that is otherwise full of character.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Ben Folds punking his audience?
Look here for the story on Ben Folds.
And here's some slightly silly TV news for those of you that like useless trivia as much as I do: VH1 Classic is going to show "Pop-Up Video," two classic episodes at a time starting at 8 p.m. every night this week. Anyone else remember that show? (I was very excited until I flipped it on tonight and found Meatloaf and Mariah Carey doing their 90s thang. That did not please me...)
In other news, we're-not-gonna-take-it rockers Twisted Sister released a Christmas album this year. In case you were pining to check this out in a live rock situation, fret not, their Christmas tour starts on Dec. 1.
I'm not sure if I can take that. Although the AP gave it a good review, heralding: "This is, quite simply, the best hard rock Christmas album ever made, and one of the best rock 'n' roll Christmas albums period since Elvis made his. It's THAT good."
A hard rock Christmas album. Hmm... something I'd never thought was missing from the repertoire of holiday music, but who am I to argue? At this point, I am tempted to actually buy this thing and check it out myself. What's next? A Hanukkah album by Kiss?
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Nature's candy
(Note: Until I tried this variety, my only interaction with apples happened through my cereal, Apple Jacks, which I suspect don't contain any actual fruit. Photo courtesy of Honeycrisp.com.)
Ripening apples are as indicative of autumn as changing leaves are. With the change in weather, comes the fresh harvest. These natural delights come in a variety of sizes, colors and tastes, many of them indigenous to Central New York. This year, the Honeycrisp is one that both apple-lovers and loathers should try.
The Honeycrisp apple is a fairly new variety that is pleasing palettes at apple fests and farmers’ markets this fall. It’s not easy to get your hands on this fruit, though; the Honeycrisp tree is finicky - which farmers say contributes to the superior quality of its fruit - because it does not grow in all climates or soils.
A hybrid between the Macoun and Honeygold, the Honeycrisp was cultivated in a 1960 experiment at the University of Minnesota. In 1991, it was introduced to consumers, and its popularity has grown ever since. Midwest farmers have been growing the apples since the early ‘90s, but the fruit was only recently introduced in New York.
These apples have a delicate balance of sweetness and tang that will easily convert apple-haters into fans. Growers suggest that finicky eaters try this apple, because it combines desirable qualities of other apples. The skin, a muted red with “apple” green patches, is similar in texture to Macintosh or Cortland apples, with a slightly thinner peel, making it easy to bite. The Honeycrisp flesh resembles that of the sour Granny Smith variety but the tartness is undercut by a sweetness that is scrumptious. Another bonus is that this apple is not gritty or mealy like other types can be.
Honeycrisps are enjoyably sweet, tart and juicy. They are also excellent cooking apples. They soften into glazed, golden and translucent morsels suitably perfect for a cobbler or pie, but they don’t melt into a pasty mess. Local autumn harvest festivals celebrate the world’s oldest fruit, in many decadent ways. And they have the right idea: Fritters, doughnuts, pies, cobblers, caramel-candied and ciders are delicious ways to sample the fruit that promises to keep the doctor away, but you may want to try them raw first.
Ripening apples are as indicative of autumn as changing leaves are. With the change in weather, comes the fresh harvest. These natural delights come in a variety of sizes, colors and tastes, many of them indigenous to Central New York. This year, the Honeycrisp is one that both apple-lovers and loathers should try.
The Honeycrisp apple is a fairly new variety that is pleasing palettes at apple fests and farmers’ markets this fall. It’s not easy to get your hands on this fruit, though; the Honeycrisp tree is finicky - which farmers say contributes to the superior quality of its fruit - because it does not grow in all climates or soils.
A hybrid between the Macoun and Honeygold, the Honeycrisp was cultivated in a 1960 experiment at the University of Minnesota. In 1991, it was introduced to consumers, and its popularity has grown ever since. Midwest farmers have been growing the apples since the early ‘90s, but the fruit was only recently introduced in New York.
These apples have a delicate balance of sweetness and tang that will easily convert apple-haters into fans. Growers suggest that finicky eaters try this apple, because it combines desirable qualities of other apples. The skin, a muted red with “apple” green patches, is similar in texture to Macintosh or Cortland apples, with a slightly thinner peel, making it easy to bite. The Honeycrisp flesh resembles that of the sour Granny Smith variety but the tartness is undercut by a sweetness that is scrumptious. Another bonus is that this apple is not gritty or mealy like other types can be.
Honeycrisps are enjoyably sweet, tart and juicy. They are also excellent cooking apples. They soften into glazed, golden and translucent morsels suitably perfect for a cobbler or pie, but they don’t melt into a pasty mess. Local autumn harvest festivals celebrate the world’s oldest fruit, in many decadent ways. And they have the right idea: Fritters, doughnuts, pies, cobblers, caramel-candied and ciders are delicious ways to sample the fruit that promises to keep the doctor away, but you may want to try them raw first.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Heathcliff, please throw me off a cliff.
I am a bit of a PBS nut. Always have been, probably always will be. There's much more to it than just Sesame Street. Although that is a very smart show, PBS has a lot more to offer for all ages.
Austin City Limits, Masterpiece Theatre, Mystery! and Nova are among my favorites; I've been watching them for years. PBS is the predecessor to the specialization that cable channels thrive on today, because they covered everything from cooking and home improvement to travel and documentaries. And they did it on a budget, no less.
PBS used to air some amazing (often BBC and also CBC) productions, many of which made up the Masterpiece and Mystery! repertoire. I remember seeing Fawlty Towers and Monty Python back in the 80s, when cable was just getting started. It was fantastic stuff. And PBS brought it to me, direct to my then cable-less TV set.
So I got used to expecting high quality productions from PBS. And Masterpiece Theatre reminds me of cozy Sundays at home, when my mother and I would watch literary productions of books that we loved or hoped to read someday.
Being in the middle of a difficult semester, feeling overwhelmed and somewhat listless, what better way was there to comfort myself than to watch some PBS? So last night, I watched a DVD of Wuthering Heights, starring Orla Brady and Robert Cavanah, as Catherine and Heathcliff respectively. This BBC production originally aired in 1999 on Masterpiece Theatre, but somehow I had missed it the first time around.
Wuthering Heights is often hailed as one of literature's great love stories. The 19th century plot is a bit convoluded, and the basic story is this: Catherine and Heathcliff grew up together and believed that they were soulmates, but Heathcliff's irascible personality made it difficult for Catherine to understand his love for her. For financial security, she decides to marry a nobleman (played by Crispin Bonham-Carter), which sends Heathcliff away in a rage.
Several years later, a wealthy Heathcliff comes back to visit married Catherine and marries her sister-in-law to incite jealousy. Catherine and Heathcliff spend enough time together to make her husband jealous, and at the pinnacle of the conflict, Catherine dies giving birth to a baby girl. Several years pass, and Heathcliff is tormented because he is separated by death from his true love. He basically continues to torture everyone else until his death.
This movie took the melodrama of the book to a new level entirely. I don't remember wanting to hurl the novel off the roof when I read it in high school. But last night, if there had been a copy of Heights nearby, I certainly would have chucked it at the TV. I'm not panning the acting or the sets. All of that was up to the usual BBC/PBS quality. They had some well-established British theatre actors in the roles, but something didn't work.
At first, I couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with this production. My curiosity kept me going into the wee hours of the night, scrutinizing this movie to find the missing link.
That link boils down to melodrama/overacting which stems from a poorly constructed adaptation of the script and unbelieveable character development, but the worst offender was unrealistic make-up.
Even though I expect a certain level of drama in any production of this nature, this one went overboard. Everybody was running off huffing and puffing at the end of every scene. Women were being hit and abused, and there was no logical reason for it. Having read the book, I knew that Heathcliff had been a tortured child. That abuse played into his awful personality, but the movie didn't lead me to draw that same conclusion. I didn't have any sympathy whatsoever for him or for Catherine, nor did I believe their love for each other. Repeating how much they loved each other over and over again was not effective enough.
The first half of the story dragged on far too long. Generally, there needs to be a considerable amount of character development in these types of stories in order to understand the motivations later. But in this case, that development never quite happened. The plot was tied together by a string of events that made the characters even less likeable. (I vainly wanted everyone to take a bath because the greasiness across-the-board was unbearable!)
Unfortunately, I was actually pleased when Catherine finally met her demise. Had I known that it would lead to the most obnoxious wailing of "Cathy! Cathy!" from Heathcliff, I would've held my applause. As the story continues, Heathcliff obligingly progresses into an even bigger creep and tyrant than he originally was, outliving all of the other adults in the story, except the housekeeper.
Also, the second half of the story was rushed, from Catherine's death to her child, nieces and nephews becoming adolescents. It went so quickly that it was impossible to follow the story. I had to pause and review scenes a couple of times, before I gave up. Granted, things take place quickly in the novel, but there is at least a chance to take in the events and understand them. That moment of realization never occurs in any of the scenes following Catherine's death.
The other element that really bothered me was the make-up situation. None of the actors seemed to age, even though five to 15 years passed by in different parts of the movie. None of them had wrinkles, gray hair or had gained weight. Although Bonham-Carter donned a cane in his last scene as the nobleman Linton, he still looked like a 30-something playing dress-up in a 19th century wig.
If you are looking for a 19th century movie fix, I would suggest the 1995 BBC mini-series, Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth version.) It's time-consuming, but whole lot easier to watch. And it's classic, well mid-90's anyway, PBS.
Austin City Limits, Masterpiece Theatre, Mystery! and Nova are among my favorites; I've been watching them for years. PBS is the predecessor to the specialization that cable channels thrive on today, because they covered everything from cooking and home improvement to travel and documentaries. And they did it on a budget, no less.
PBS used to air some amazing (often BBC and also CBC) productions, many of which made up the Masterpiece and Mystery! repertoire. I remember seeing Fawlty Towers and Monty Python back in the 80s, when cable was just getting started. It was fantastic stuff. And PBS brought it to me, direct to my then cable-less TV set.
So I got used to expecting high quality productions from PBS. And Masterpiece Theatre reminds me of cozy Sundays at home, when my mother and I would watch literary productions of books that we loved or hoped to read someday.
Being in the middle of a difficult semester, feeling overwhelmed and somewhat listless, what better way was there to comfort myself than to watch some PBS? So last night, I watched a DVD of Wuthering Heights, starring Orla Brady and Robert Cavanah, as Catherine and Heathcliff respectively. This BBC production originally aired in 1999 on Masterpiece Theatre, but somehow I had missed it the first time around.
Wuthering Heights is often hailed as one of literature's great love stories. The 19th century plot is a bit convoluded, and the basic story is this: Catherine and Heathcliff grew up together and believed that they were soulmates, but Heathcliff's irascible personality made it difficult for Catherine to understand his love for her. For financial security, she decides to marry a nobleman (played by Crispin Bonham-Carter), which sends Heathcliff away in a rage.
Several years later, a wealthy Heathcliff comes back to visit married Catherine and marries her sister-in-law to incite jealousy. Catherine and Heathcliff spend enough time together to make her husband jealous, and at the pinnacle of the conflict, Catherine dies giving birth to a baby girl. Several years pass, and Heathcliff is tormented because he is separated by death from his true love. He basically continues to torture everyone else until his death.
This movie took the melodrama of the book to a new level entirely. I don't remember wanting to hurl the novel off the roof when I read it in high school. But last night, if there had been a copy of Heights nearby, I certainly would have chucked it at the TV. I'm not panning the acting or the sets. All of that was up to the usual BBC/PBS quality. They had some well-established British theatre actors in the roles, but something didn't work.
At first, I couldn't quite figure out what was wrong with this production. My curiosity kept me going into the wee hours of the night, scrutinizing this movie to find the missing link.
That link boils down to melodrama/overacting which stems from a poorly constructed adaptation of the script and unbelieveable character development, but the worst offender was unrealistic make-up.
Even though I expect a certain level of drama in any production of this nature, this one went overboard. Everybody was running off huffing and puffing at the end of every scene. Women were being hit and abused, and there was no logical reason for it. Having read the book, I knew that Heathcliff had been a tortured child. That abuse played into his awful personality, but the movie didn't lead me to draw that same conclusion. I didn't have any sympathy whatsoever for him or for Catherine, nor did I believe their love for each other. Repeating how much they loved each other over and over again was not effective enough.
The first half of the story dragged on far too long. Generally, there needs to be a considerable amount of character development in these types of stories in order to understand the motivations later. But in this case, that development never quite happened. The plot was tied together by a string of events that made the characters even less likeable. (I vainly wanted everyone to take a bath because the greasiness across-the-board was unbearable!)
Unfortunately, I was actually pleased when Catherine finally met her demise. Had I known that it would lead to the most obnoxious wailing of "Cathy! Cathy!" from Heathcliff, I would've held my applause. As the story continues, Heathcliff obligingly progresses into an even bigger creep and tyrant than he originally was, outliving all of the other adults in the story, except the housekeeper.
Also, the second half of the story was rushed, from Catherine's death to her child, nieces and nephews becoming adolescents. It went so quickly that it was impossible to follow the story. I had to pause and review scenes a couple of times, before I gave up. Granted, things take place quickly in the novel, but there is at least a chance to take in the events and understand them. That moment of realization never occurs in any of the scenes following Catherine's death.
The other element that really bothered me was the make-up situation. None of the actors seemed to age, even though five to 15 years passed by in different parts of the movie. None of them had wrinkles, gray hair or had gained weight. Although Bonham-Carter donned a cane in his last scene as the nobleman Linton, he still looked like a 30-something playing dress-up in a 19th century wig.
If you are looking for a 19th century movie fix, I would suggest the 1995 BBC mini-series, Pride and Prejudice (the Colin Firth version.) It's time-consuming, but whole lot easier to watch. And it's classic, well mid-90's anyway, PBS.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Hard bodies
I am not sure what possessed me to take a cardio sculpt class last night and then a step aerobics class this morning. (I think I was avoiding the media law brief, textbook readings and magazine article that I should've been working on instead. See: 'The Art of Procrastination' entry.)
My body is revolting right now. I mean that in every context that the word can be taken. But in this case, the usage that is most fitting is a revolution a la Bastille Day.
I knew the gig was up halfway through the step class this morning, when I saw three old ladies pleasantly kicking my uncoordinated butt. They were perfectly coordinated with the super-fit teacher, hopping up and down, kicking their legs gracefully, bouncing off and on their steps that were twice as high as mine. There I was lost and bewildered, desperately trying to count steps and keep up. Other descriptions that come to mind: pathetic, panting and sweating (not to mention praying), trying to get through that class.
I actually cheered when the class finally came to an end. Sike! The madness wasn't actually over just yet. The choreographed hopping up and down part was over. Next, the instructor wanted us to balance ourselves on top of some large,wobbly, plastic balls. I remember bouncing up and down on those things when I was five or six years old, but they had smooth, rubber handles on them. The gym's version had no cute little handles. We were supposed to "use our core strength to balance" on these maddeningly unwieldy spheres. Yeah right.
Ladies and gentlemen, when I thought it could get no worse, I noticed my ball was actually mocking me. Oh yes, my pained and strained face had actually turned the same shade of crimson as that blasted plastic ball. Who knew humans had chameleon-like properties?
I am proud to say that I made it through that class, and then the instructor asked me "Was this your first class?"
What ever gave her that idea?
My body is revolting right now. I mean that in every context that the word can be taken. But in this case, the usage that is most fitting is a revolution a la Bastille Day.
I knew the gig was up halfway through the step class this morning, when I saw three old ladies pleasantly kicking my uncoordinated butt. They were perfectly coordinated with the super-fit teacher, hopping up and down, kicking their legs gracefully, bouncing off and on their steps that were twice as high as mine. There I was lost and bewildered, desperately trying to count steps and keep up. Other descriptions that come to mind: pathetic, panting and sweating (not to mention praying), trying to get through that class.
I actually cheered when the class finally came to an end. Sike! The madness wasn't actually over just yet. The choreographed hopping up and down part was over. Next, the instructor wanted us to balance ourselves on top of some large,wobbly, plastic balls. I remember bouncing up and down on those things when I was five or six years old, but they had smooth, rubber handles on them. The gym's version had no cute little handles. We were supposed to "use our core strength to balance" on these maddeningly unwieldy spheres. Yeah right.
Ladies and gentlemen, when I thought it could get no worse, I noticed my ball was actually mocking me. Oh yes, my pained and strained face had actually turned the same shade of crimson as that blasted plastic ball. Who knew humans had chameleon-like properties?
I am proud to say that I made it through that class, and then the instructor asked me "Was this your first class?"
What ever gave her that idea?
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
A delicious assignment
So I am writing some food blurbs for my internship. And today, I decided to tackle the pumpkin cannoli assignment. So I went to Biscotti's Cafe and Pastry Shop on N. Salina St., in the Little Italy section of Syracuse.
This delightful shop is warm and inviting as soon as you enter. There is a salon type area immediately to the right, with a plush, but gently worn sofa and some Queen Anne style chairs where you can just hang out comfortably for hours. There is also an entire case of gelatto in that room, which is fetching for a whole different reason.
To the left, there are cafe style tables and chairs - 12 settings of two-tops and four-tops spread out around the dining area. The storefront window lets in a great deal of light, and it's nice to be able to see the activity on the street outside, especially if you are working or hanging out with friends inside.
If the ambience of the restaurant isn't enough, the noteworthy sweets greet patrons as soon as they walk in from either the front entrance or the rear one. Nestled in the middle of the shop, there are three enormous glass cases filled top to bottom with tasty sugarey treats. Decadent cakes on the right, fluffy pastries in the middle and colorful cookies on the left.
There is enough mouth-watering action to leave anyone feeling dumbfounded while they try to decide what to choose. I tried the pumpkin cannoli - mainly because that was the object of my assignment for the day. To my delight, the tasty treat was more delicious than I could've predicted.
First of all, the ricotta cheese filling had the perfect consistency. It was light and creamy, and not thick and heavy. It had just the right amount of sweetness to it (and to my delight, it wasn't overly sugary, pumpkin-ey or spicy), and the chocolate chips and powdered sugar dusted on top were the perfect garnish. The pumpkin and spices were nicely subtle, too. Even the crust was flaky and crispy. Nothing about this dessert was overpowering, and therefore each element came together amazingly well.
Speaking with the owners was a treat too - they are graduates of the Culinary Institute of America. They have worked at some of the finest restaurants and hotels in Boston and New York, and they have brought tidbits of culinary expertise from each place to Syracuse. This husband and wife team like to compete with each other by concocting new creations. (The pumpkin cannoli was actually the reaction to a mint-chocolate cannoli, which was created to celebrate St. Patrick's Day three years ago.) As a result, they have plenty of other interesting desserts to offer. There is a Bananas Foster cake and a vegan chocolate mousse. They also have biscotti, but that is to be expected, given the name of the shop.
If dessert is not your thing, Biscotti's also offers homemade soups, salads and sandwiches throughout the day. They also have decent coffee, although it was not quite strong enough to suit my taste. But that divine cannoli easily made up for that minor shortcoming.
If you live in Syracuse and want to check it out, go quickly, because the pumpkin cannolis are seasonal and will only be available till Thanksgiving. Otherwise, they have reasonable hours (open till 7 p.m. on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday. Fridays and Saturdays, open till 11 p.m., closed Mondays) offer a comfy place to work, study or hang out.
This delightful shop is warm and inviting as soon as you enter. There is a salon type area immediately to the right, with a plush, but gently worn sofa and some Queen Anne style chairs where you can just hang out comfortably for hours. There is also an entire case of gelatto in that room, which is fetching for a whole different reason.
To the left, there are cafe style tables and chairs - 12 settings of two-tops and four-tops spread out around the dining area. The storefront window lets in a great deal of light, and it's nice to be able to see the activity on the street outside, especially if you are working or hanging out with friends inside.
If the ambience of the restaurant isn't enough, the noteworthy sweets greet patrons as soon as they walk in from either the front entrance or the rear one. Nestled in the middle of the shop, there are three enormous glass cases filled top to bottom with tasty sugarey treats. Decadent cakes on the right, fluffy pastries in the middle and colorful cookies on the left.
There is enough mouth-watering action to leave anyone feeling dumbfounded while they try to decide what to choose. I tried the pumpkin cannoli - mainly because that was the object of my assignment for the day. To my delight, the tasty treat was more delicious than I could've predicted.
First of all, the ricotta cheese filling had the perfect consistency. It was light and creamy, and not thick and heavy. It had just the right amount of sweetness to it (and to my delight, it wasn't overly sugary, pumpkin-ey or spicy), and the chocolate chips and powdered sugar dusted on top were the perfect garnish. The pumpkin and spices were nicely subtle, too. Even the crust was flaky and crispy. Nothing about this dessert was overpowering, and therefore each element came together amazingly well.
Speaking with the owners was a treat too - they are graduates of the Culinary Institute of America. They have worked at some of the finest restaurants and hotels in Boston and New York, and they have brought tidbits of culinary expertise from each place to Syracuse. This husband and wife team like to compete with each other by concocting new creations. (The pumpkin cannoli was actually the reaction to a mint-chocolate cannoli, which was created to celebrate St. Patrick's Day three years ago.) As a result, they have plenty of other interesting desserts to offer. There is a Bananas Foster cake and a vegan chocolate mousse. They also have biscotti, but that is to be expected, given the name of the shop.
If dessert is not your thing, Biscotti's also offers homemade soups, salads and sandwiches throughout the day. They also have decent coffee, although it was not quite strong enough to suit my taste. But that divine cannoli easily made up for that minor shortcoming.
If you live in Syracuse and want to check it out, go quickly, because the pumpkin cannolis are seasonal and will only be available till Thanksgiving. Otherwise, they have reasonable hours (open till 7 p.m. on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Sunday. Fridays and Saturdays, open till 11 p.m., closed Mondays) offer a comfy place to work, study or hang out.
Wednesday, October 18, 2006
News promos
Ok I know it must be hard to come up with fresh and creative ideas for local TV news promos, and believe me, I have seen some idiotic ones. (Remember that I lived in Macon, GA and Charleston, SC for some time.) But I believe I saw the absolute DUMBEST promo ever this afternoon. It was for Syracuse station, WTVH, a CBS affiliate. Their take on why we should watch them is that they LIKE HANGING OUT TOGETHER. Their whole ad has absolutely nothing to say about their news coverage. It just shows the news team hanging out and talking about how chummy they are with each other.
What the crap? I don't care that a news team LIKES each other. I want the bloody news, for pete's sake. Maybe they have nothing positive to say about their news coverage? Every local station, in a mediocre or metropolitan market, is always touting their Emmys and other awards. How come this station isn't doing that? Does that mean they have no awards? Or maybe they have no news skills? Who knows? But they REALLY like each other. Isn't that swell?
It's a good enough promo to make me never want to watch that channel at local news time. Although part of me wants to watch it and make my critiques on this blog... stay tuned.
What the crap? I don't care that a news team LIKES each other. I want the bloody news, for pete's sake. Maybe they have nothing positive to say about their news coverage? Every local station, in a mediocre or metropolitan market, is always touting their Emmys and other awards. How come this station isn't doing that? Does that mean they have no awards? Or maybe they have no news skills? Who knows? But they REALLY like each other. Isn't that swell?
It's a good enough promo to make me never want to watch that channel at local news time. Although part of me wants to watch it and make my critiques on this blog... stay tuned.
Friday, October 13, 2006
Coupling: Hillary Clinton and Jansport
Yesterday was very odd. First, I slept through my first class, which is something I haven't done in years. Usually it happens when I am so tired that in my sleep-induced haze I turn off the alarm unwittingly. So I missed the class, but managed to get up in time to do everything else that I had planned for the day. But I knew it was going to be a strange day.
When I arrived at the Post-Standard around 1pm yesterday, there were a lot of suits hanging around outside. They were looking at me strangely as I got closer to the building, but I figured there must be something going on at the courthouse or federal building, which are both nearby.
After walking into the lobby, oddly, there was a crowd of about 10 P-S employees hanging around, and looking slightly nervous, for no apparent reason. I walked right up to my security guard buddy and told him that I'd forgotten my ID. I was kind of stunned when he told me to wait because he couldn't help me right then. I'm not a very patient person, so I was slightly annoyed until I saw Senator Clinton walking into the building surrounded by the suits. That was my Eureka! moment.
She was surprisingly tiny and seemingly gracious, as she shook everyone's hand. When she got to me (because everyone else was doing it and I was completely unprepared for this kind of scene) I stuck mine out and said "It's a pleasure to meet you." She noted that it was her pleasure to meet me too. Ahem. And then she disappeared up the stairs with the secret service guys, and everyone in the lobby relaxed.
So that was that. Strange, but interesting. She seemed really friendly and warm, and she also seemed to genuinely know many of the people in the lobby. Apparently she comes to the P-S for editorial board meetings quite often. What struck me as really odd, is that there wasn't nearly the amount of security that surrounds the President or other dignitaries. She only had about 15 people with her.
Of course, there may have been fewer of them. It was hard to tell because they seemed to be following me aound the building that day. For example, when I went to get lunch, the sandwich-making lady told me that the Secret Service had cleaned her out of bottled water and tomatoes, both of which I wanted. Those bastards!
And now to tie my subjects together.
When I got home, there was a large Priority Mail envelope resting on my door. I couldn't figure out what it could be, because I hadn't ordered anything big and squishy lately. When I opened it, I saw that it was a fancy new Jansport backpack in a strange color (not what I would've chosen, but it's free, so I will deal with it.) I had sent my old forest green colored one back to them last week, because it had developed a tear that pickpockets would love.
Jansport has a policy of repairing or replacing your 'pack, unless the damage was caused by normal wear and tear. In that case, you're on your own. To be honest, I kind of thought my tear fell into the usual wear and tear category, because I've had the thing for 12 years. It had travelled all over the world with me, and it probably was ready for retirement.
Because they couldn't repair my old one, they sent me a fancy new one in a different shade of olive green. They even sent me an APOLOGY for not having my original color in stock! What is even more exciting is that the new pack has the same pocket features that I had gotten to love with the old one. Jansport, you are wonderful. (Feel free to send any high-paying endorsement deals my way.)
Clearly Jansport and Sen. Clinton have nothing in common, other than both surprising me, albeit pleasantly, in the same day.
Sidenote: it's suddenly gotten cold here. And what worries me is that I think THIS WEATHER is cold at 50 degrees, I am going to die in the next few months. A professor told me today that in February, 39 degrees will seem WARM. UGH.
When I arrived at the Post-Standard around 1pm yesterday, there were a lot of suits hanging around outside. They were looking at me strangely as I got closer to the building, but I figured there must be something going on at the courthouse or federal building, which are both nearby.
After walking into the lobby, oddly, there was a crowd of about 10 P-S employees hanging around, and looking slightly nervous, for no apparent reason. I walked right up to my security guard buddy and told him that I'd forgotten my ID. I was kind of stunned when he told me to wait because he couldn't help me right then. I'm not a very patient person, so I was slightly annoyed until I saw Senator Clinton walking into the building surrounded by the suits. That was my Eureka! moment.
She was surprisingly tiny and seemingly gracious, as she shook everyone's hand. When she got to me (because everyone else was doing it and I was completely unprepared for this kind of scene) I stuck mine out and said "It's a pleasure to meet you." She noted that it was her pleasure to meet me too. Ahem. And then she disappeared up the stairs with the secret service guys, and everyone in the lobby relaxed.
So that was that. Strange, but interesting. She seemed really friendly and warm, and she also seemed to genuinely know many of the people in the lobby. Apparently she comes to the P-S for editorial board meetings quite often. What struck me as really odd, is that there wasn't nearly the amount of security that surrounds the President or other dignitaries. She only had about 15 people with her.
Of course, there may have been fewer of them. It was hard to tell because they seemed to be following me aound the building that day. For example, when I went to get lunch, the sandwich-making lady told me that the Secret Service had cleaned her out of bottled water and tomatoes, both of which I wanted. Those bastards!
And now to tie my subjects together.
When I got home, there was a large Priority Mail envelope resting on my door. I couldn't figure out what it could be, because I hadn't ordered anything big and squishy lately. When I opened it, I saw that it was a fancy new Jansport backpack in a strange color (not what I would've chosen, but it's free, so I will deal with it.) I had sent my old forest green colored one back to them last week, because it had developed a tear that pickpockets would love.
Jansport has a policy of repairing or replacing your 'pack, unless the damage was caused by normal wear and tear. In that case, you're on your own. To be honest, I kind of thought my tear fell into the usual wear and tear category, because I've had the thing for 12 years. It had travelled all over the world with me, and it probably was ready for retirement.
Because they couldn't repair my old one, they sent me a fancy new one in a different shade of olive green. They even sent me an APOLOGY for not having my original color in stock! What is even more exciting is that the new pack has the same pocket features that I had gotten to love with the old one. Jansport, you are wonderful. (Feel free to send any high-paying endorsement deals my way.)
Clearly Jansport and Sen. Clinton have nothing in common, other than both surprising me, albeit pleasantly, in the same day.
Sidenote: it's suddenly gotten cold here. And what worries me is that I think THIS WEATHER is cold at 50 degrees, I am going to die in the next few months. A professor told me today that in February, 39 degrees will seem WARM. UGH.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
The Art of Procrastination
So I have midterms tomorrow in two of my more reading-intensive classes, Media Law and Critcal Methods of Film and TV. The latter has easier reading but the instructor's exams are notoriously difficult. The former is just a lot of Constitutional history and case memorization. Both classes have a shit-ton of reading material, and naturally both classes are on the same day, and so, incidentally, are their mid-term exams.
Therefore, I have been buried in coffee shops and book stores for the past five days preparing for these two tests, but I am not finished yet. It's kind of daunting for a procrastinator like myself to work, even that far in advance, but you see, I'm nowhere close to being prepared at this point. (And that's because I haven't really been keeping up with everything weekly, like I should have been doing: Procrastination.)
For some reason, the adrenaline rush of finishing something last-minute allows me to learn faster, think more clearly and even produce better results. Maybe that's why I loved breaking news situations at CNN. I had to think on my feet, and fast.
But anyway, after three hours at Barnes and Noble this afternoon, I had to take a break. So I strolled the aisles, hoping that I would be inspired to return to the books soon. Instead, I spent an entire hour reading a book on Procrastination. And now I'm back at home, preparing dinner while my books taunt me for neglecting them (slightly) all semester. On the other hand, Veronica Mars is about to start...
Therefore, I have been buried in coffee shops and book stores for the past five days preparing for these two tests, but I am not finished yet. It's kind of daunting for a procrastinator like myself to work, even that far in advance, but you see, I'm nowhere close to being prepared at this point. (And that's because I haven't really been keeping up with everything weekly, like I should have been doing: Procrastination.)
For some reason, the adrenaline rush of finishing something last-minute allows me to learn faster, think more clearly and even produce better results. Maybe that's why I loved breaking news situations at CNN. I had to think on my feet, and fast.
But anyway, after three hours at Barnes and Noble this afternoon, I had to take a break. So I strolled the aisles, hoping that I would be inspired to return to the books soon. Instead, I spent an entire hour reading a book on Procrastination. And now I'm back at home, preparing dinner while my books taunt me for neglecting them (slightly) all semester. On the other hand, Veronica Mars is about to start...
Thursday, October 05, 2006
"Good" Yankee barbeque?
Oh yes. It exists.
This place has been written up in numerous travel mags - I even saw it in Sky, Delta's in-flight mag, a couple of months ago. But I didn't believe it until tonight. I went with some friends from school, and we dove in for the full experience.
We started with appetizers - cornbread and fried green tomatoes. The cornbread was a little too crumbly and dry for my taste, but it had been baked with honey on top, so it was forgiveable. I don't think they knew to bake it in a skillet with bacon grease, though. That always gives a nice salty crust to the 'bread, which was missing in tonight's concoction. But still, the tomatoes were excellent. Fried with bread crumbs instead of cornmeal, they were served on a bed of lettuce with cayenne buttermilk ranch dressing (YUM!) and some parmesean cheese sprinkled on top. All the Southerners at our table agreed that this was the (how do the kids these days say it?) BOMB.
We all ordered the pulled pork sandwiches with different sides. I got mashed potatoes and cole slaw. The slaw wasn't too sweet, which is something I don't really like about Southern slaw. The mash had a great kick from an abundance of black pepper, so both sides were good. The sandwich itself was delicious, too. The chain's signature bbq sauce is quite tasty, although not nearly as "asskicking" as it promises on the menu. It was spicy (could've had more kick, if you ask me), but not overpowering. The meat was also really tender but flavorless if you got a piece without sauce. I added plenty of sauce to my sandwich, and I really enjoyed the whole meal.
We each tried a different dessert as well - I had some chocolate pie thing, which was basically chocolate pudding on an oreo crust with whipped cream and chocolate chips on top. It was sinfully delectable. The others had equally yummy things - pumpkin cheesecake, vanilla rice pudding and sweet potato pie. Mine was the best, though. (Sorry Jacque, Nancy and Carl, but it's true.) Now I am sitting on the couch, wishing I'd not eaten quite so much while staring at the seemingly starved actors on Grey's Anatomy. I bet they never pig out on barbeque with their friends...
This place has been written up in numerous travel mags - I even saw it in Sky, Delta's in-flight mag, a couple of months ago. But I didn't believe it until tonight. I went with some friends from school, and we dove in for the full experience.
We started with appetizers - cornbread and fried green tomatoes. The cornbread was a little too crumbly and dry for my taste, but it had been baked with honey on top, so it was forgiveable. I don't think they knew to bake it in a skillet with bacon grease, though. That always gives a nice salty crust to the 'bread, which was missing in tonight's concoction. But still, the tomatoes were excellent. Fried with bread crumbs instead of cornmeal, they were served on a bed of lettuce with cayenne buttermilk ranch dressing (YUM!) and some parmesean cheese sprinkled on top. All the Southerners at our table agreed that this was the (how do the kids these days say it?) BOMB.
We all ordered the pulled pork sandwiches with different sides. I got mashed potatoes and cole slaw. The slaw wasn't too sweet, which is something I don't really like about Southern slaw. The mash had a great kick from an abundance of black pepper, so both sides were good. The sandwich itself was delicious, too. The chain's signature bbq sauce is quite tasty, although not nearly as "asskicking" as it promises on the menu. It was spicy (could've had more kick, if you ask me), but not overpowering. The meat was also really tender but flavorless if you got a piece without sauce. I added plenty of sauce to my sandwich, and I really enjoyed the whole meal.
We each tried a different dessert as well - I had some chocolate pie thing, which was basically chocolate pudding on an oreo crust with whipped cream and chocolate chips on top. It was sinfully delectable. The others had equally yummy things - pumpkin cheesecake, vanilla rice pudding and sweet potato pie. Mine was the best, though. (Sorry Jacque, Nancy and Carl, but it's true.) Now I am sitting on the couch, wishing I'd not eaten quite so much while staring at the seemingly starved actors on Grey's Anatomy. I bet they never pig out on barbeque with their friends...
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Oh Canada.
Indeed.
I went to Montreal last weekend, and I chose the perfect weekend to do it. The weather was crisp and cool, but comfortable. The leaves were changing, probably at their peak, and the drive up was stunning as a result. I didn't take a whole lot of pictures because I didn't think that photos would do the scenery justice.
Incidentally, I drove through the Thousand Islands area (which Johanna, the director of my program, tells me is where the awful salad dressing of the same name was created) before driving into Canada. It is really scenic and beautiful. So much so, that I don't really know how to describe it accurately. I can't wait to go back in the spring to really check it out. There is a winery tour around that area, which would be cool to check out too. Any takers?
So back to the Canada trip. I have to say, it reminded me of the road trips that my family took when my brother and I were little. We had a lot of fun (when we weren't fighting or driving my parents batty), and my father would drive us all over the country to see places like Disney World, Washington DC and Niagara Falls. When I started driving, I always felt that same sense of adventure that inherently brought my father to this country over thirty years ago.
In my early twenties, my friend Anne and I drove all over the South, checking out random places for lots of dumb reasons, but mostly to curb our sense of adventure. We had a blast, listening to music, talking, trying new restaurants, talking our way into the Ryman Auditorium and getting to know new places.
As I've gotten older, driving has become more of a chore. Sometimes I really hate having to drive to get anywhere, much less make a road trip. (I really wish we had a better train system in the US, but that's another blog topic.) But this Canada trip somehow gave me a new sense of adventure and purpose. Maybe it was because I was conquering a path I'd not taken before. I certainly have never DRIVEN into Canada before (at least not when I was cogniscent - I think my family did it once when I was still in diapers.) And I had never seen upstate New York in such beauty. It was really exciting - like the first time I landed in Prague by myself.
So while it was really wonderful catching up with my aunt, uncle and cousins in Montreal, it was really exhilarating to drive into Canada. There are a freaking LOT of geese and birds though. My car looks like it was attacked by paintball guns filled with bird shit instead of paint. By the way, Montreal is THE place to go for breads, pastries, cheeses and wines. And yellow watermelon, apparently. Yummmm. Ok, I'd better get to the gym now to work off some of that pate that was immensely delicious...
Monday, September 25, 2006
Settling down with Lewis Black
(You have to read to the end to get to the Lewis Black part.)
Above: a pint of beer from a pub in Ithaca. Ironic message, no? To be fair, there's an ad for an Ithaca taxi company on the back. Pretty smart advertising. FYI: That glass is now in my dishwasher.
Last week, I was supposed to interview Ravi and Anoushka Shankar for three different projects - two pieces for the Post-Standard and a podcast for SU - and I was as nervous as I was excited. Unfortunately, the Shankars cancelled their show (which was scheduled for tomorrow night) because the elder Shankar has a shoulder injury. The prep time that I had spent on these three projects could've been better used for media law reading, but more than that, I was disappointed to lose the opportunity to talk with a genius like Ravi Shankar.
On the other hand, I did get to see an amazing show (photo above) two weekends ago in Ithaca. Santoor maestro Shiv Kumar Sharma played with his son Rahul and tabla player Aditya Kalyanpur (who has studied with tabla geniuses Alla Rakha and his son, Zakir Hussain.) The santoor is an ancient folk instrument that Pandit Sharma basically raised to the level of sitar on the classical front in India. It is similar to the western hammered dulcimer - the santoor is a sringed instrument that is played by hitting the strings with mallets. The tabla is a set of traditional drums that are played with the hands, not sticks.
The three men, dressed elegantly in traditional Indian kurtas and pajamas, entered the stage, humbly folding their hands together and bowing their heads towards the audience as they sat down to tune their instruments. From the first note, the performance was mesmerizing.
The musicians were having a ball, smiling and laughing as they played off each other, really showcasing their talents. Pandit Sharma seemed to hold back a little, which allowed the younger musicians to really let loose. Indian classical music is all improvised, so the effect was even more astounding when the tabla player copied exactly every fast-paced, complicated taan (a series of notes and beat patterns that are composed during the set) that the younger Sharma played.
Displaying the trademark style of his esteemed teachers, the young tabla player's hands moved skillfully and frenetically over the drums. Rahul Sharma also showed that he has inherited his father's great santoor skills with the intricate tunes that he created. There was a much-deserved standing ovation, but sadly, no encore.
I honestly hope that these guys come back to the states soon. It was such an amazing thing to see in person.
In other news, I also saw the Strokes, whose performance suffered due to a seizure-inducing light show and horrible PA system, which made for a disappointing show. Actually, I suffered more than they did... I had really been looking forward to it, because I love their albums, and I had heard that they were an amazing live band. On the other hand, they made some hilarious jokes about snotty academics, which I think most of the Cornell crowd didn't quite get. (Sorry Sumi, that's how I saw it.)
And last, but not least, I interviewed Lewis Black this afternoon. It was definitely the highlight of my week. Before the big phone call, obviously I had read as much as I could find about him, and I was surprised to learn that he's a very sweet, generous man who is just thrilled to be where he is right now. He's been around for a long time, and he's really earned his current position of fame. If you haven't seen his act, his stage persona is an angry guy who is just fed up with everyday idiocies.
I had a really pleasant conversation with him, and we bonded over both of us being single with parents who just want us to F***ing settle down already! When I told him I was a 31-year-old, single Indian woman, he guessed that my family was surely flying in suitors by the cartful. (Thank goodness, they haven't resorted to that yet.) But if Lewis Black is still being nagged by his parents to find someone to grow old with, then I am in pretty good company!
Above: a pint of beer from a pub in Ithaca. Ironic message, no? To be fair, there's an ad for an Ithaca taxi company on the back. Pretty smart advertising. FYI: That glass is now in my dishwasher.
Last week, I was supposed to interview Ravi and Anoushka Shankar for three different projects - two pieces for the Post-Standard and a podcast for SU - and I was as nervous as I was excited. Unfortunately, the Shankars cancelled their show (which was scheduled for tomorrow night) because the elder Shankar has a shoulder injury. The prep time that I had spent on these three projects could've been better used for media law reading, but more than that, I was disappointed to lose the opportunity to talk with a genius like Ravi Shankar.
On the other hand, I did get to see an amazing show (photo above) two weekends ago in Ithaca. Santoor maestro Shiv Kumar Sharma played with his son Rahul and tabla player Aditya Kalyanpur (who has studied with tabla geniuses Alla Rakha and his son, Zakir Hussain.) The santoor is an ancient folk instrument that Pandit Sharma basically raised to the level of sitar on the classical front in India. It is similar to the western hammered dulcimer - the santoor is a sringed instrument that is played by hitting the strings with mallets. The tabla is a set of traditional drums that are played with the hands, not sticks.
The three men, dressed elegantly in traditional Indian kurtas and pajamas, entered the stage, humbly folding their hands together and bowing their heads towards the audience as they sat down to tune their instruments. From the first note, the performance was mesmerizing.
The musicians were having a ball, smiling and laughing as they played off each other, really showcasing their talents. Pandit Sharma seemed to hold back a little, which allowed the younger musicians to really let loose. Indian classical music is all improvised, so the effect was even more astounding when the tabla player copied exactly every fast-paced, complicated taan (a series of notes and beat patterns that are composed during the set) that the younger Sharma played.
Displaying the trademark style of his esteemed teachers, the young tabla player's hands moved skillfully and frenetically over the drums. Rahul Sharma also showed that he has inherited his father's great santoor skills with the intricate tunes that he created. There was a much-deserved standing ovation, but sadly, no encore.
I honestly hope that these guys come back to the states soon. It was such an amazing thing to see in person.
In other news, I also saw the Strokes, whose performance suffered due to a seizure-inducing light show and horrible PA system, which made for a disappointing show. Actually, I suffered more than they did... I had really been looking forward to it, because I love their albums, and I had heard that they were an amazing live band. On the other hand, they made some hilarious jokes about snotty academics, which I think most of the Cornell crowd didn't quite get. (Sorry Sumi, that's how I saw it.)
And last, but not least, I interviewed Lewis Black this afternoon. It was definitely the highlight of my week. Before the big phone call, obviously I had read as much as I could find about him, and I was surprised to learn that he's a very sweet, generous man who is just thrilled to be where he is right now. He's been around for a long time, and he's really earned his current position of fame. If you haven't seen his act, his stage persona is an angry guy who is just fed up with everyday idiocies.
I had a really pleasant conversation with him, and we bonded over both of us being single with parents who just want us to F***ing settle down already! When I told him I was a 31-year-old, single Indian woman, he guessed that my family was surely flying in suitors by the cartful. (Thank goodness, they haven't resorted to that yet.) But if Lewis Black is still being nagged by his parents to find someone to grow old with, then I am in pretty good company!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Who says English food isn't good?
After several years of trial and error, I have finally re-created the British national dish, Chicken Tikka Masala. When I lived in London, my friend Hope and I ordered the paneer version at least once a week from the local Indian restaurant. We couldn't get enough of the creamy tomato goodness.
Now if only I could find an authentic scone recipe! Something about the water in the UK makes their scones SO MUCH BETTER than the US versions.
Two things to update: 1) Thanks to my wonderful family for providing me with a digital camera. Now I can put pics online with my posts. Which leads me to number 2) I FINALLY have internet at home! So I can post more often and bore everyone to tears on a regular basis.
Friday, September 08, 2006
The Holy Cities
It's been ages since I've posted, but I did write the following blog over the break. I just never had a chance to post till now... I'll write something more up-to-date over the weekend, but here's something to read in the meantime.
(I should note that the clown that was sitting next to me on the plane was deathly afraid to fly. So afraid that his hands were sweating so much that they were leaving water marks on his pants. Yuck. And he was talking about gravity and how just by being in the plane, we were defying certain natural laws. I don't know how many of you know this about me, but I am slightly afraid to fly as well. Once we're in the air, and I can't see down, there's no problem. But the up and down parts of the ride REALLY BOTHER ME. Anyway, I had to pop open my computer, put on my headphones and pretend to work so he would shut up. And that gave birth to the blog below.)
August 27, 2006
So I'm flying back to Rochester now after two weeks in Atlanta, Austin and Charleston. I'm thinking about my life, and how happy I am to know so many wonderful people. I really had a good time seeing everyone, and I can't believe I was fortunate enough to get everything in that I had wanted to do. I even worked a few days at CNN in the middle of travelling to all those places. My parents got the raw end of the deal, because I didn't get to spend too much time with them. Oh well, Christmas isn't that far away, I guess.
Atlanta is always fun. We celebrated Kara's big promotion and Sidebar's third anniversary. I also helped to host a baby shower for my friend Jody (ed. note: She had the baby on September 3, the best day of the year!) I caught up on celebrity gossip with Stephen, hung out with Margie and Lily and even got to see some of my VJ classmates at Lee's wine tasting party. Good stuff.
Austin is always fun, too. Family fun. But fun. I think I wrote about that and Psycho in my last post, so I'll skip the "my nieces are the most brilliant, funny and beautiful kids on the planet shpeel." (It's only a temporary escape, my friends. I'm sure they'll do something cute, and I'll be forced to tell you all about it.)
Charleston, of course, is wonderful too. I really loved living there, and even though I hated the small-towniness of it when I first arrived, it was very endearing when I left. I was fortunate to catch the last Cabaret Kiki show of the summer. And my friends, these guys were ON FIRE that night. I'd seen several shows before, in rehearsal and from backstage, and it was weird being on the audience-side this time. But it was really fun. I started to write a "review" of the show, but I realized I am far too attached to those people backstage and on-stage. I couldn't write anything other than glowing praise, and that's not really what a "critic" is supposed to do. My opinion: if you're in Charleston, GO SEE THIS SHOW. It's really delightfully entertaining and funny, and the songs are amazingly catchy. Plus Evan Bivins is about the funniest thing I've ever seen.
Carolina St. and Perry St. peeps and Julie, I miss you all so much. But what I miss most is the putanesca, the impromptu barbeques, the late-night stir-fries and the guitar-hero. (Nick, have you gotten to the end of season two YET? Season three starts really soon!)
That's all for now. We're landing soon, and the flight attendant is coming this way to make me put my tray table back up and turn off my electronic devices...
(I should note that the clown that was sitting next to me on the plane was deathly afraid to fly. So afraid that his hands were sweating so much that they were leaving water marks on his pants. Yuck. And he was talking about gravity and how just by being in the plane, we were defying certain natural laws. I don't know how many of you know this about me, but I am slightly afraid to fly as well. Once we're in the air, and I can't see down, there's no problem. But the up and down parts of the ride REALLY BOTHER ME. Anyway, I had to pop open my computer, put on my headphones and pretend to work so he would shut up. And that gave birth to the blog below.)
August 27, 2006
So I'm flying back to Rochester now after two weeks in Atlanta, Austin and Charleston. I'm thinking about my life, and how happy I am to know so many wonderful people. I really had a good time seeing everyone, and I can't believe I was fortunate enough to get everything in that I had wanted to do. I even worked a few days at CNN in the middle of travelling to all those places. My parents got the raw end of the deal, because I didn't get to spend too much time with them. Oh well, Christmas isn't that far away, I guess.
Atlanta is always fun. We celebrated Kara's big promotion and Sidebar's third anniversary. I also helped to host a baby shower for my friend Jody (ed. note: She had the baby on September 3, the best day of the year!) I caught up on celebrity gossip with Stephen, hung out with Margie and Lily and even got to see some of my VJ classmates at Lee's wine tasting party. Good stuff.
Austin is always fun, too. Family fun. But fun. I think I wrote about that and Psycho in my last post, so I'll skip the "my nieces are the most brilliant, funny and beautiful kids on the planet shpeel." (It's only a temporary escape, my friends. I'm sure they'll do something cute, and I'll be forced to tell you all about it.)
Charleston, of course, is wonderful too. I really loved living there, and even though I hated the small-towniness of it when I first arrived, it was very endearing when I left. I was fortunate to catch the last Cabaret Kiki show of the summer. And my friends, these guys were ON FIRE that night. I'd seen several shows before, in rehearsal and from backstage, and it was weird being on the audience-side this time. But it was really fun. I started to write a "review" of the show, but I realized I am far too attached to those people backstage and on-stage. I couldn't write anything other than glowing praise, and that's not really what a "critic" is supposed to do. My opinion: if you're in Charleston, GO SEE THIS SHOW. It's really delightfully entertaining and funny, and the songs are amazingly catchy. Plus Evan Bivins is about the funniest thing I've ever seen.
Carolina St. and Perry St. peeps and Julie, I miss you all so much. But what I miss most is the putanesca, the impromptu barbeques, the late-night stir-fries and the guitar-hero. (Nick, have you gotten to the end of season two YET? Season three starts really soon!)
That's all for now. We're landing soon, and the flight attendant is coming this way to make me put my tray table back up and turn off my electronic devices...
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Videoconferencing, the wave of the future.
I couldn't resist this shoutout to my friend Chris who works at Polycom. He was very excited that this new technology made it onto CNN.com's hallowed pages.
In other news, I spent the weekend in Austin with my beloved nieces who are now eight and five years old. Where does the time go? I swear they were just born yesterday! Anyway, Annika's birthday was Sunday, so we took her to Dave and Busters (her choice) where she won a giant Spongebob Squarepants doll. My brother should be sending me some pictures soon which you all can coo at when you see how darn adorable my nieces are.
The rest of my time "off" has been spent entertaining relatives or working at CNN. It's been nice to see some of my friends back at the Mother Ship, and I found out that our department won Peabody and DuPont Columbia awards for the tsunami and Katrina coverage last year.
Stephanie, satellites business manager extrordinaire, gave me my certificates yesterday. When I left for work today, I left them on my bed because I was in a hurry and didn't want them to get wrinkled in my work bag, and this afternoon my parents saw them and freaked out. They called me at CNN to share their excitement (and to scold me for not telling them about it.) I didn't realize my parents would know what a Peabody was, so I didn't rush to share the news last night. Oh well.
And now I should probably talk about something that might actually interest someone out there in Internet-land... I finally saw Psycho. The Hitchcock version. Everyone knows that I absolutely love Hitchcock movies. (North by Northwest is one of my favorite movies of all time.) His ability to use music and understatement as psychological tools was simply brilliant. No one else did what he did, but everyone still tries to mimic his methods. Film scholars have been saying these things (much more eloquently) for years, so I'll move on to my point.
Backtracking somewhat, when I was growing up, my mother always talked about how scary that film was when she saw it in the 60's. She said she couldn't sleep for weeks afterwards. She still thinks it's the scariest thing she's ever seen. So naturally, I'd always had an aversion to it as well. (In fact, I have never been a huge horror movie fan, although I love a good mystery/suspense/thriller. I just don't like zombies and people jumping out from behind corners with knives and that sort of thing.)
Being in the Arts Journalism program, I decided that I needed to face my fears and see the Hitchcock classic that set the tone for many modern horror films. So I set out to watch it in my brother's fabulous media room, with surround sound and a beautifully projected image on a big screen. Of course, I sat down to watch it alone, but during the day, just in case.
At first, I was confident that it wasn't going to get to me. This silly black and white movie couldn't possibly be as scary as my mother had deemed it to be. There are much scarier things on television these days. (O'Reilly Factor, anyone?) It simply reminded me of the genius that is Hitchcock. I already knew all about the famous "shower scene", so that didn't really scare me. I noticed the startling music in the intense scenes, and the creepy camera angles that were used whenever Norman Bates was in a scene. And oh, the black and white added such a classy touch. I felt very elite and erudite, looking at the piece from a critical perspective.
And then Hitchcock got the better of me. When the investigator was stabbed and thrown down the stairs. I admit, I yelped a little out loud. But when the skeleton in the basement grinned back at me in it's 10-foot-wide toothy glory, I literally freaked out. I turned the lights on and watched the rest of the movie with the media room door wide open, just in case.
Luckily, I was able to forget my fright quickly when I walked downstairs and joined the kids, who were watching harmless Bill Nye the Science Guy.
In other news, I spent the weekend in Austin with my beloved nieces who are now eight and five years old. Where does the time go? I swear they were just born yesterday! Anyway, Annika's birthday was Sunday, so we took her to Dave and Busters (her choice) where she won a giant Spongebob Squarepants doll. My brother should be sending me some pictures soon which you all can coo at when you see how darn adorable my nieces are.
The rest of my time "off" has been spent entertaining relatives or working at CNN. It's been nice to see some of my friends back at the Mother Ship, and I found out that our department won Peabody and DuPont Columbia awards for the tsunami and Katrina coverage last year.
Stephanie, satellites business manager extrordinaire, gave me my certificates yesterday. When I left for work today, I left them on my bed because I was in a hurry and didn't want them to get wrinkled in my work bag, and this afternoon my parents saw them and freaked out. They called me at CNN to share their excitement (and to scold me for not telling them about it.) I didn't realize my parents would know what a Peabody was, so I didn't rush to share the news last night. Oh well.
And now I should probably talk about something that might actually interest someone out there in Internet-land... I finally saw Psycho. The Hitchcock version. Everyone knows that I absolutely love Hitchcock movies. (North by Northwest is one of my favorite movies of all time.) His ability to use music and understatement as psychological tools was simply brilliant. No one else did what he did, but everyone still tries to mimic his methods. Film scholars have been saying these things (much more eloquently) for years, so I'll move on to my point.
Backtracking somewhat, when I was growing up, my mother always talked about how scary that film was when she saw it in the 60's. She said she couldn't sleep for weeks afterwards. She still thinks it's the scariest thing she's ever seen. So naturally, I'd always had an aversion to it as well. (In fact, I have never been a huge horror movie fan, although I love a good mystery/suspense/thriller. I just don't like zombies and people jumping out from behind corners with knives and that sort of thing.)
Being in the Arts Journalism program, I decided that I needed to face my fears and see the Hitchcock classic that set the tone for many modern horror films. So I set out to watch it in my brother's fabulous media room, with surround sound and a beautifully projected image on a big screen. Of course, I sat down to watch it alone, but during the day, just in case.
At first, I was confident that it wasn't going to get to me. This silly black and white movie couldn't possibly be as scary as my mother had deemed it to be. There are much scarier things on television these days. (O'Reilly Factor, anyone?) It simply reminded me of the genius that is Hitchcock. I already knew all about the famous "shower scene", so that didn't really scare me. I noticed the startling music in the intense scenes, and the creepy camera angles that were used whenever Norman Bates was in a scene. And oh, the black and white added such a classy touch. I felt very elite and erudite, looking at the piece from a critical perspective.
And then Hitchcock got the better of me. When the investigator was stabbed and thrown down the stairs. I admit, I yelped a little out loud. But when the skeleton in the basement grinned back at me in it's 10-foot-wide toothy glory, I literally freaked out. I turned the lights on and watched the rest of the movie with the media room door wide open, just in case.
Luckily, I was able to forget my fright quickly when I walked downstairs and joined the kids, who were watching harmless Bill Nye the Science Guy.
Friday, August 18, 2006
Terrorist plot no. 653: No hydration or hygene for Westerners!
I have flown twice since last week. The security in Rochester was a breeze, except that I had to take my trusty tube of Chapstick and bottle of hand lotion in my checked suitcase. It wouldn't have been so annoying if the closed air on planes wasn't so dehydrating. Is anyone else having this problem?
Since I can no longer bring a bottle of water on board with me, hydration is my foremost concern. I hate flying without lotion and lip gloss. It sounds stupid, especially since I don't consider myself a particularly high-maintenance woman, but my lips crave that moisturizing, cherry goo from time to time. And airplane soap is not particularly easy on skin either. Coupled with the dry air, I could scratch the word "dry" on my hands without much effort.
The two-hour trips that I've been taking this month haven't been so hard on me. However, my sister-in-law just left for China and she had to do away with her creams and balms when she checked-in. So she has to fly for 36 hours without being able to touch up her make-up or put cream on her hands until she clears customs and gets to her hotel. That seems a little harsh.
Some lunatics in London make an explosive paste, and the entire western world has to suffer. No lotions, liquids, creams, deodorant, toothpaste or lip gloss on board! I guess that's the terrorists' end game: to make westerners do without basic hygene, so we all offend each other with our dry skin and smelly underarms. Perhaps I am overreacting, but it's mildly annoying that this morning, I had to check-in a small suitcase for a weekend trip because I wanted to have deodorant, make-up and moisturizer on hand when I arrived in Austin. Last week, I would've been able to carry it on and walk off the plane to meet my family, without wasting time at the baggage carousel.
(That area is aptly named, because it does resemble a circus most of the time... that gives me a good idea: the airlines should spend those extra taxes and fee money on clowns and tightrope walkers in the baggage claim area to entertain us while we wait and hope that our luggage made the same journey that we did. The elephant shit might put people off, but we're all going to smell bad anyway since we can't travel with deodorant anymore!)
I began to wonder about those people who travel every week, weekend or even every day. It's just an added inconvenience for an ailing airline industry which is already talking about raising fares to accomodate the latest edict from Homeland Security. Gas prices are super high, air travel is a hassle and the Bill of Rights is breached more with each passing day. It seems like it's time for a change - the terrorists are almost winning here. They have succeeded in making westerners live in fear, and they have increased the prosperity and ease of American life which used to be so dear to each of us. Don't get me wrong. I am happy to accomodate rules that ensure my safety, but I really am having a hard time understanding how lip gloss and deodorant got on the list of dangerous weaponry.
By the way, after my layover in Houston today, the gate agent let me bring my Starbucks mocha on board. I don't think she noticed it, but the flight attendant made a point, at least twice, to tell me how "special" I was. I am failing to understand why an item purchased inside the "secure" zone would cause such a commotion, because shouldn't that merchandise or food or whatever be "safe"? Ok I'm done with this rant now...
Since I can no longer bring a bottle of water on board with me, hydration is my foremost concern. I hate flying without lotion and lip gloss. It sounds stupid, especially since I don't consider myself a particularly high-maintenance woman, but my lips crave that moisturizing, cherry goo from time to time. And airplane soap is not particularly easy on skin either. Coupled with the dry air, I could scratch the word "dry" on my hands without much effort.
The two-hour trips that I've been taking this month haven't been so hard on me. However, my sister-in-law just left for China and she had to do away with her creams and balms when she checked-in. So she has to fly for 36 hours without being able to touch up her make-up or put cream on her hands until she clears customs and gets to her hotel. That seems a little harsh.
Some lunatics in London make an explosive paste, and the entire western world has to suffer. No lotions, liquids, creams, deodorant, toothpaste or lip gloss on board! I guess that's the terrorists' end game: to make westerners do without basic hygene, so we all offend each other with our dry skin and smelly underarms. Perhaps I am overreacting, but it's mildly annoying that this morning, I had to check-in a small suitcase for a weekend trip because I wanted to have deodorant, make-up and moisturizer on hand when I arrived in Austin. Last week, I would've been able to carry it on and walk off the plane to meet my family, without wasting time at the baggage carousel.
(That area is aptly named, because it does resemble a circus most of the time... that gives me a good idea: the airlines should spend those extra taxes and fee money on clowns and tightrope walkers in the baggage claim area to entertain us while we wait and hope that our luggage made the same journey that we did. The elephant shit might put people off, but we're all going to smell bad anyway since we can't travel with deodorant anymore!)
I began to wonder about those people who travel every week, weekend or even every day. It's just an added inconvenience for an ailing airline industry which is already talking about raising fares to accomodate the latest edict from Homeland Security. Gas prices are super high, air travel is a hassle and the Bill of Rights is breached more with each passing day. It seems like it's time for a change - the terrorists are almost winning here. They have succeeded in making westerners live in fear, and they have increased the prosperity and ease of American life which used to be so dear to each of us. Don't get me wrong. I am happy to accomodate rules that ensure my safety, but I really am having a hard time understanding how lip gloss and deodorant got on the list of dangerous weaponry.
By the way, after my layover in Houston today, the gate agent let me bring my Starbucks mocha on board. I don't think she noticed it, but the flight attendant made a point, at least twice, to tell me how "special" I was. I am failing to understand why an item purchased inside the "secure" zone would cause such a commotion, because shouldn't that merchandise or food or whatever be "safe"? Ok I'm done with this rant now...
Sunday, August 13, 2006
The fat lady finally sang.
Topic #1: Newswriting.
Let me start by saying that this class was one of the most demanding classes that I have ever taken. But I survived it, and on Thursday, "Dump Truck" Smitty informed me that I actually got an A in the class. Ok, it was an A minus, but it’s still on the A side of the spectrum. It’s not a B. Phew.
(I'm supposed to be an overachieving injun, remember? There's no room for B's, unless they are spelling bees. All Indians are good at those, are they not?)
Topic #2: More school stuff.
We had two projects due on Wednesday this week: the last newswriting piece, and the only project for Arts Journalism for this semester. The AJ one will be published in a special supplement in the Post-Standard on September 17. We are having a fancy launch party on the 15th, and it’s pretty exciting to have such buzz surrounding our work.
Sometime in the blur of the past weeks, I volunteered for the editorial board of the Mix (our supplement), and I have been appointed as the “Style Queen.” For those of you who have met me and have seen how I dress, you can stop laughing already. It’s got nothing to do with fashion. I get to memorize the AP stylebook and make sure that each of our 16 pieces has perfect style. (Checking grammar, punctuation, correct spelling of words, etc.) I blurted out that I am good with rules, so there you have it. The rest of the team are stuck editing the pieces this weekend, so I think I got off kind of easily. (Johanna, please forget that you saw that comment, if you read this blog. Thanks!)
Topic #3: The opera and Cooperstown.
And last, but not least, we ended the AJ class with a field trip to Cooperstown yesterday. Most people will recognize the town because the Baseball Hall of Fame is there. We found out that it is also home to one of the world’s premier opera houses, Glimmerglass.
Glimmerglass is beautifully constructed, with “almost-perfect acoustics” as we were told, next to a shimmering finger lake. I couldn’t figure out what the imperfections in the sound could be, because we all thought it was divine. The opera is quite a production, as we saw. There are so many people behind-the-scenes making it all work.
Every year, Glimmerglass has four shows running simultaneously during their summer season. So they have to rehearse, load-in, perform and load-out for every show. That’s a lot of work and coordination, but they manage it seamlessly. The idea is that opera fans who come out to Cooperstown for the weekend can see all four shows in two days. If you’re going to have a tourist business, that’s a good way to run it. Make it worthwhile if people come to upstate NY, and drive 1.5 hours from the nearest major airport to go there and make a weekend out of it.
We met Lola Goldring and Dean David Rubin for breakfast in the morning. Mrs. Goldring is the benefactor that gave life to our AJ program. She’s a lovely, spunky woman who talked about her grandchildren (who are the same ages as most of my classmates) and at the same time discussed the latest movies, fads and culture with us. It was quite amazing to meet her, and I think that we were all very impressed with how down-to-earth and delightful she is.
So we went out to Glimmerglass, toured the opera house and then broke off into separate groups to explore Cooperstown. It’s actually a village, which I found amusing. The Clark and Busch (yes, the beer people) families spent a lot of money preserving the ambience of the area. There are no chain stores – McDonalds, Starbucks, etc. It’s all local businesses, with baseball-themed store names. Doubleday Field is tucked away in the middle of the high street. Although, there was too much Yankee paraphernalia everywhere for my tastes.
During breakfast, the dean mentioned a hotel that had a scenic veranda, where we could sit and enjoy the view of Lake Otswego. After taking a stroll up and down the main street in Cooperstown, we went to the hotel, where most of our classmates were also enjoying the pleasant, but chilly, weather.
We ended the night watching Jenufa, which is a Czech opera that isn’t widely performed. We had learned about it earlier in the week, so it was much more meaningful listening for specific things in the music, and watching for certain things in the plot. The singers were absolutely amazing, and the music was really interesting. There were many aspects that reminded me of modern movie music, which was fascinating since Janacek wrote the opera at the end of the 1800s.
So that is the denouement of semester number one. I’m heading to Atlanta this weekend – hopefully will manage a visit to Charleston and Austin in the next two weeks, and I’ll be at CNN for a couple of days too. It’ll be nice to relax for a change.
Let me start by saying that this class was one of the most demanding classes that I have ever taken. But I survived it, and on Thursday, "Dump Truck" Smitty informed me that I actually got an A in the class. Ok, it was an A minus, but it’s still on the A side of the spectrum. It’s not a B. Phew.
(I'm supposed to be an overachieving injun, remember? There's no room for B's, unless they are spelling bees. All Indians are good at those, are they not?)
Topic #2: More school stuff.
We had two projects due on Wednesday this week: the last newswriting piece, and the only project for Arts Journalism for this semester. The AJ one will be published in a special supplement in the Post-Standard on September 17. We are having a fancy launch party on the 15th, and it’s pretty exciting to have such buzz surrounding our work.
Sometime in the blur of the past weeks, I volunteered for the editorial board of the Mix (our supplement), and I have been appointed as the “Style Queen.” For those of you who have met me and have seen how I dress, you can stop laughing already. It’s got nothing to do with fashion. I get to memorize the AP stylebook and make sure that each of our 16 pieces has perfect style. (Checking grammar, punctuation, correct spelling of words, etc.) I blurted out that I am good with rules, so there you have it. The rest of the team are stuck editing the pieces this weekend, so I think I got off kind of easily. (Johanna, please forget that you saw that comment, if you read this blog. Thanks!)
Topic #3: The opera and Cooperstown.
And last, but not least, we ended the AJ class with a field trip to Cooperstown yesterday. Most people will recognize the town because the Baseball Hall of Fame is there. We found out that it is also home to one of the world’s premier opera houses, Glimmerglass.
Glimmerglass is beautifully constructed, with “almost-perfect acoustics” as we were told, next to a shimmering finger lake. I couldn’t figure out what the imperfections in the sound could be, because we all thought it was divine. The opera is quite a production, as we saw. There are so many people behind-the-scenes making it all work.
Every year, Glimmerglass has four shows running simultaneously during their summer season. So they have to rehearse, load-in, perform and load-out for every show. That’s a lot of work and coordination, but they manage it seamlessly. The idea is that opera fans who come out to Cooperstown for the weekend can see all four shows in two days. If you’re going to have a tourist business, that’s a good way to run it. Make it worthwhile if people come to upstate NY, and drive 1.5 hours from the nearest major airport to go there and make a weekend out of it.
We met Lola Goldring and Dean David Rubin for breakfast in the morning. Mrs. Goldring is the benefactor that gave life to our AJ program. She’s a lovely, spunky woman who talked about her grandchildren (who are the same ages as most of my classmates) and at the same time discussed the latest movies, fads and culture with us. It was quite amazing to meet her, and I think that we were all very impressed with how down-to-earth and delightful she is.
So we went out to Glimmerglass, toured the opera house and then broke off into separate groups to explore Cooperstown. It’s actually a village, which I found amusing. The Clark and Busch (yes, the beer people) families spent a lot of money preserving the ambience of the area. There are no chain stores – McDonalds, Starbucks, etc. It’s all local businesses, with baseball-themed store names. Doubleday Field is tucked away in the middle of the high street. Although, there was too much Yankee paraphernalia everywhere for my tastes.
During breakfast, the dean mentioned a hotel that had a scenic veranda, where we could sit and enjoy the view of Lake Otswego. After taking a stroll up and down the main street in Cooperstown, we went to the hotel, where most of our classmates were also enjoying the pleasant, but chilly, weather.
We ended the night watching Jenufa, which is a Czech opera that isn’t widely performed. We had learned about it earlier in the week, so it was much more meaningful listening for specific things in the music, and watching for certain things in the plot. The singers were absolutely amazing, and the music was really interesting. There were many aspects that reminded me of modern movie music, which was fascinating since Janacek wrote the opera at the end of the 1800s.
So that is the denouement of semester number one. I’m heading to Atlanta this weekend – hopefully will manage a visit to Charleston and Austin in the next two weeks, and I’ll be at CNN for a couple of days too. It’ll be nice to relax for a change.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
A civilized newsroom?
Yesterday, my arts journalism class went to visit the local newspaper, the Post-Standard, where many of us will be doing internships during the next year. Kathleen took this picture of the newspapers on a reel, waiting to be distributed.
We sat in on a budget meeting, which is when the editors of each section get together to decide which stories will make the front page. The thing that struck me most about the place is that it was so quiet. Everyone was very polite and accomodating towards each other.
I can't remember a single day in the CNN newsroom that was like that. So during the entire visit, I was questioning whether I was at an actual media outlet or not. It didn't seem normal, but it got me to remember my buddies at CNN.com in London. They are all newspaper guys who got hired to do online work, and they are pretty civilized too. They always look moderately annoyed when some lunatic TV person freaks out in the newsroom. Although I have to say that London's newsroom was much calmer than the Atlanta one.
It's going to be weird to start an internship at an office where people are actually respectful of each other, and there's no shouting or other extraneous noise going on all the time. I have never seen a work environment like that. Every TV station that I have worked at has been over-the-top with noise, at the very least. Screaming and antagonizing people were usually present too. When I start my newspaper internship in the fall, I wonder if I'll be able to concentrate...
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
Picking blueberries
One of my friends from AJ, Jaque, mentioned that she and her roommate, Nancy, were going to a blueberry farm over the weekend to pick berries. Growing up in Atlanta doesn't give a girl many opportunities to pick anything but what to put on her pizza, so I jumped at the chance. Despite the heat, Jaque and Nancy and I had a pretty good time. Those girls racked up in blueberry goodness, filling grocery bags and plastic containers. I only filled about half of a plastic container, but I still have a feeling I'm going to be eating blueberry scones, muffins and pancakes for quite some time. Today I learned that they freeze well and have a ridiculous dosage of anti-oxidants which are wrinkle-fighters, so it's a win-win situation. Upstate NY farmland is beautiful, by the way.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Registration tomorrow, headache today
Well, tomorrow we get to register online for classes. I have to admit, I'm a little nervous about this whole thing. Although I have mastered online banking extremely well, and I can't remember the last time I actually wrote a check. I'm thinking this registration thing should be pretty similar, right?
You see, the last time I was in school, the internet was barely existent. I was taking an HTML class, and about 1% of my friends had e-mail. It's amazing how quickly the technology has taken over our lives. I currently don't have internet at home, and well, I'm about to lose my freaking mind. Every time I think about looking something up or e-mailing someone, I have to drag my butt to the library on campus to do it. (My friends have noticed I haven't been in touch very much lately...)
Even my professors are communicating with us via e-mail, and I am falling behind in classes because I didn't get an e-mail until the next morning.
It was a ridiculous experiment, I realize now. How could I think that I could live without internet in my home? Yes, I am lazy, but who wouldn't prefer to do research at home within reach of the coffeemaker than sitting in an uncomfortable library chair?
Do not fear friends, I have a new neighbor upstairs who a) has a router and b) is happy to let me share his internet connection, once he gets it hooked up. So I should be back online regularly within a month or so.
You see, the last time I was in school, the internet was barely existent. I was taking an HTML class, and about 1% of my friends had e-mail. It's amazing how quickly the technology has taken over our lives. I currently don't have internet at home, and well, I'm about to lose my freaking mind. Every time I think about looking something up or e-mailing someone, I have to drag my butt to the library on campus to do it. (My friends have noticed I haven't been in touch very much lately...)
Even my professors are communicating with us via e-mail, and I am falling behind in classes because I didn't get an e-mail until the next morning.
It was a ridiculous experiment, I realize now. How could I think that I could live without internet in my home? Yes, I am lazy, but who wouldn't prefer to do research at home within reach of the coffeemaker than sitting in an uncomfortable library chair?
Do not fear friends, I have a new neighbor upstairs who a) has a router and b) is happy to let me share his internet connection, once he gets it hooked up. So I should be back online regularly within a month or so.
Monday, July 24, 2006
"CNN... what kind of shop are they running over there anyhow?"
My friend Hansmeet's company finally made the news after the story was in limbo for a few days. Check
it out.
So Saturday afternoon, I went to see My Super Ex-Girlfriend with a fellow arts journalist, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd anticipated. Admittedly, we only went because of the Luke Wilson eye candy factor. I totally admit that it's a completely shallow reason to see a movie, but it was a rainy Saturday afternoon and the library was just putting me to sleep. The movie itself was predictable and mildly amusing. However there were a few subtle shout-outs to various superhero movies of the past and watching out for them made the movie mildly entertaining for this geek.
That's it for now. Happy Monday, folks.
it out.
So Saturday afternoon, I went to see My Super Ex-Girlfriend with a fellow arts journalist, and it wasn't nearly as bad as I'd anticipated. Admittedly, we only went because of the Luke Wilson eye candy factor. I totally admit that it's a completely shallow reason to see a movie, but it was a rainy Saturday afternoon and the library was just putting me to sleep. The movie itself was predictable and mildly amusing. However there were a few subtle shout-outs to various superhero movies of the past and watching out for them made the movie mildly entertaining for this geek.
That's it for now. Happy Monday, folks.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Grad school, here I am.
Ok I am finally starting a blog. Blogger tells me that I've had this account since 2001, but I hadn't paid much attention to the newest internet craze until now. It just seemed kind of weird to talk about my personal life online, for everyone to see. I kind of liked the old-fashioned method of telling people of MY choosing what I've been up to. Many of my younger friends have blogs which are personal, online journals, but I always blew it off as a "Kids these days" kind of thing. I'm not adverse to technology... I have a 3rd gen iPod. I have a cell phone. I even have a Powerbook. I love e-mail. But blogging, well, it just wasn't for me. Until now...
Since I arrived at SU three weeks ago, it has been suggested over and over again that starting a blog would be a good idea. It wasn't until Friday's guest speaker, Michael Barnes from the Austin-American Statesman, showed us how valuable it could be, that I decided to actually put my five-year-old account to use.
So there you have it. I will try not to write mundane things like "I just got a latte at Freedom of Espresso coffee shop" or "I bought a cool skirt at H&M today." I will try to write about things that interest me, excite me or even upset me on a broader level. But sometimes I might be compelled to write about silly things like the fact that I went salsa dancing last night and actually had a blast, and that now I am blowing off my need to do research in order to meet my friend Linda at the mall to watch a movie and do a little shopping. (It's true!)
Welcome to my blog, and happy weekend, everyone!
Since I arrived at SU three weeks ago, it has been suggested over and over again that starting a blog would be a good idea. It wasn't until Friday's guest speaker, Michael Barnes from the Austin-American Statesman, showed us how valuable it could be, that I decided to actually put my five-year-old account to use.
So there you have it. I will try not to write mundane things like "I just got a latte at Freedom of Espresso coffee shop" or "I bought a cool skirt at H&M today." I will try to write about things that interest me, excite me or even upset me on a broader level. But sometimes I might be compelled to write about silly things like the fact that I went salsa dancing last night and actually had a blast, and that now I am blowing off my need to do research in order to meet my friend Linda at the mall to watch a movie and do a little shopping. (It's true!)
Welcome to my blog, and happy weekend, everyone!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)