Big Wigs at the Branigin

On Monday I stated that I had to cover some kind of debate for my editing class. Turns out the debate was between three candidates running for the Indiana Senate. The debate took place in the Branigin room, and I was to cover any "Big Wigs" that might show up.

Things slowly became clearer to me as compared to when I was just assigned the story on Monday, however I still didn't know why I was there. I arrived 30 minutes early and stood outside the lecture hall as old snoby rich people came pouring in. A secretary was supposed to meet me and inform me who was at the debate, but she was busy running around and hastily told me "I know what you look like, you know what I look like. I'll find you later," So after a couple more moments standing awkwardly in the hall, I decided that I would try to find these people after the debate and took my assigned seat.

Anyway the debate was long and boring, and directly after I had to write my story which barely made 300 words because I could only find two big name politicians. I'm sure it won't be used for anything. As a journalist, I hate it when I take the time and effort to cover a story and then don't know whether or not it will get published. This is the third time this has happened to me this semester.

So the next day in editing class, Hank, my professor, invited an alumni to speak to the class about editing. I forget his name, but he has worked at Indy's Mens Magazine and a couple of local papers. Much of it was a Q&A session, as we all chowed down on some Chinese grub. I didn't pay attention to much of what he said, but at the end he said something that really changed my perspective as a journalist. He said that there were reporters and then there were writers. I have always seen myself as more of a writer than a parasitic journalist who attacks and attacks. He suggested that the writers in the room check out the magazine industry because of the focus on doing feature stories.

I hate many aspects of journalism, but I know that there are some areas that click with me, such as doing feature stories. I pray that one day I will find the right field to go into.

Beware of the Jerky

This weekend while I was in Noblesville, my Dad and I went out to get a hair cut. It was around 6:00, so I was getting pretty hungry. To my delight, there sat a pre-packaged stick of beef-jerky next to my seat. I'm not sure if Dad said "hey you want some jerky?" or if I just shoved it in my face on instinct, but the point is that I ate it not knowing how long it had been sitting in my dad's car soaking up sun and becoming pre-packaged rot.

Last summer Dad traded in his Ford Explorer for a brand new Jeta. Part of the decision was due to gas prices, the other was because he wanted a more professional ride. In this process of being more "professional", he began keeping the car clean and did not allow newspapers and blueprints to pile up in the back seat. However, food was not a part of this equation.

So, it was not to my surprise that the stomach-ache I was having was probably from the stick of jerky and not Dad's excessively bad driving (He's been pulled over for drunk driving when he was sober). Not only was I starting to get sick because of the spoiled meat, but Dad's hugging curves and speeding provided catalyst for my illness. To top it off, all the barbers were closed on Saturday afternoon.

I was planning on driving back to campus that night, but I was too sick to even think about getting back in a car. I did absolutely nothing that day, what a waste.

The Day That Did Not Feel Like a Monday

I got an extra hour of sleep this morning due to the cancellation of my national government class. Thus, rolled out of bed in a pretty good mood (for a Monday anyway), ate a big breakfast (eggs and Cheerios) and went to my 10 o'clock.

I needed to have been on acid to keep up with my journalism professor today. Somehow I was assigned to cover a debate on campus tomorrow, but I don't know where or when. I don't even know why I'm doing it because this is an editing class not a basic reporting class. So here I am, a day before and I don't even know the basic 5 W's, in fact I don't even know one of them.

On a better note, I got an A on my synopsis of the play "Privilege". At work today, Amy told me that she and Kevin are thrilled that I'm such a good feature writer. I know that examples like these should give me confidence in my writing and coverage, but it stresses me out.

The editor of the school paper asked me to cover another story, but because I don't have to do it, I'm not going to. Well at least if I can convince him that I am too busy Saturday to cover another story.

After I got back from work, I took a jog around Franklin. I'm trying to get back down to the 170's or at least 180 which is my norm. Last week I jumped on the scale and noticed that I was well over 185. Even when I came home for the weekend, my mom noticed. Its a delicate situation, if I put on 5 pounds everyone notices but as long as I'm under 180 I'm "skinny".

Nate and I have been training, but we have yet to workout together. Sunday, I was still at home so Nate ran without me. Today, Nate was trying to catch up on sleep, he was out till 5:30 last night with Katie B.

Oh Kay, I need to stop. This is probably the most boring blog I've written yet, its just that I haven't written in a while. I promise I'll have something more interesting to post next time.

Democrats and Republicans Come Together to Defend President

Every once in a while the media reports on national politicians ignoring their differences and coming to each other's aid. For a short time, I feel there is no left wing-right wing battle, and that maybe our government is more grown up than I thought.

A couple of days ago when Venezuelan President, Hugo Chavez, came to New York and attacked our commander in chief by referring to him as the devil, democrats stood up and said enough. Much like an older brother coming to the aid of his pip-squeak brother, and telling the other neighborhood kids that "No one picks on my baby brother but me!"

I'm a liberal democrat through and through, but when some jack ass from the outside comes in and denounces our President, its just uncalled for. Unlike many liberals, I hate only Bush's agenda, I don't hate Bush himself. That's just too ignorant for my taste.

When D-New York representative Charles Rangel said" You don't come into my country; you don't come into my congressional district and you don't condemn my president,"shows that maybe the media has it wrong. Maybe the national government is not as divided as we are made to believe, I would like to think this is the case. I don't know what it is, but seeing politicians drop their battle axes and come together is very refreshing from what we are used to seeing on CNN and Fox news (Cable news is garbage).

We may fight about abortion and gay rights, but at the end of the day its just good to know that we all live in America.

Playwright

For my Intro to Theater class, we had to split up into groups and write a play. Given only 40 minutes, we were expected to write a tragedy or a comedy that would last around 10 minutes on stage. For what we had to work with, I'm really impressed that we could pull off something like this. Its actually pretty funny. The four of us practiced it downstairs in the lobby. Not quite 10 minutes and none of us can act very well, but I'm proud of it.
Here goes, it opens with three old women in an apartment watching the Colts game. Their cheering disturbs their middle-aged landlord, Rusty (Me).

Three Old Ladies and an Appartment on a Sunday Afternoon

Comedy

Characters: Agnus AKA Agie…………..Tasha
Rusty…………………………Sam
Bernadette AKA Bernie…….Shannon
Francis AKA Frankie………..Beth

(Three old ladies watching the Colts on T.V. in an apartment being very energetically charged.)

Francis: My o my, those cheerleaders have such short skirts!
Agnus: With all that cheering in the first half, the grip on my dentures is feeling a little weak.
Bernadette: That Poly grip ooze works wonders. We should send some to those cheerleaders to keep their skirts down.

(All chuckle, and Agnus’s dentures fall out.)

Francis: Shhh Shhhh! The game is on!
Agnus: Oh, but it’s 5:00, I got to go to bed. The game’s our anyway….(up by 20)
Bernadette: What??? Are you crazy???? You got to stick it out till the end!
Francis: All they need is some encouragement!

(Agnus begins to walk away.) “Check on cookies”

Bernadette: Marvin broke loose
Francis: He’s running fast!
Bernadette: Look at him go!
Bernadette/Francis: 20……10……5……TOUCHDOWN!

(Cheering and yelling! A few minutes later the ladies hear someone knocking on their door.)

Agnus: Who would be knocking on the door at this hour?
Francis: We aren’t expecting any visitors, are we?
Rusty: Open up!
Agnus: Hold your britches!

(Agnus slowly reaches the door!)

Agnus: Oh Jimmy! Hey girls it’s my son, Jimmy paying his ole momma a visit!
Rusty: Hold on …..Hold on….I’m not …..(Interrupted by Agnus)
Agnus: Of course you are, I haven’t seen you since Christmas, How’s Darlene?
Rusty: Let me finish. I’m not your son. I’m Rusty, your landlord!

(Rusty enters Room.)

Bernadette: What’s the landlord doing up here again, I think he has a crush on one of us.
Francis: What’s the problem, Rusty?
Rusty: Well, I’ve been getting some complaints from the other residents about the noise.
Agnus Noise, what noise?
Rusty: I can hear you all the way down on the first floor!
Agnus: What floor are we on?
Francis: Agnus, hun, we are on the third floor!
Rusty: I’m trying to do the Sunday crossword and can’t think with all this noise. Now you turn down the volume in here or I won’t allow you to keep your cats!
Bernadette: Mittens….Not our precious Mittens!
Francis: Okay….Okay…we’ll behave ourselves, won’t we girls?

(Bernadette and Agnus nod their heads in agreement.)

Francis: Have a great day Mr. Rusty!
Rusty: Yeah, Yeah, I don’ want to have to come up here again!

Agnus: (Shuts the door and yells,) Bye Jimmy!
Francis: O that Rusty, he gets us every time!
Bernadette: His beard is so bushy, I’m afraid a squirrel might jump out and bite me.
Agnus: How come we can’t keep our Mittens, but he can have a squirrel?
Francis: O’ fiddle, that boy Rusty always gets on us for having a little hip in our giddy, but he never gets on those youngsters down the hall!
Bernadette: How are those cookies coming along there, Agie?
Agnus: I’m getting ready to put on the chocolate icing.
Bernadette: O’ let me add my special ingredients!

(Bernadette pulls out her bottle of pills and use them to spruce up the icing.)

Francis: What are you doing?
Bernadette: That Rusty gets on my nerves sometimes, so I just want to get rid of him.
Francis: Yeah…I knoo…..O my goodness, the Colts are on just about to make a touchdown!

(Cheering and yelling takes place. Reciting play by play of the game. The game gets really tense, and it goes to commercial break. Casual talk begins and is soon interrupted with the return of the Colt’s game action. Once again, a knocking on the door silences the hysteria.)

Agnus: Look it’s squirrel boy!
Rusty: What, squirrel boy, never mind. I wanted to apologize for what I did earlier. I was working on my crossword, and it sounded like you all were having a good time, so I wanted to see what was up.
Agnus: Awww. That’s sweet of you Jimmy! Here, have a cookie
Bernadette: No, No…Don’t eat that….Mitten’s just peed in the frosting bowl. Let’s get a cookie without the frosting.
Rusty: Mmmmm….just like my mom used to make!
Agnus: Oh Jimmy, I knew you were my favorite!

(The old ladies realize that they actually have something in common with Rusty, all are Colt’s fans. With their common interest, Bernadette, Agnus, and Francis invite Rusty to join them every Sunday to watch the afternoon football games.)

My Adventure in Tunnels

In the transition between walking from Katie B's room to mine, Nate and I were stopped by Daniel who had just made an important discovery. "Dude I've found a tunnel!". The combination of intoxication and excitement about the new discovery caused me to jump in the air and ask "Where?". I can't remember the last time I was this excited.

Daniel and I live in a dorm designated for upper classmen and is fashioned more as an apartment complex. Some of the rooms, including mine, have locked doors that until that night I had no idea what they were for. So Daniel pulls back the couch blocking his door of mystery and unlocks it.

At first sight all I noticed were the air vents and some pipes running horizontally. But Daniel pointed out the "secret" passage to the tunnel. Nate and I were so drunk and so eager, that we flew open the trap door and climbed down.

Bellow lied more pipes, a 5 foot ceiling, and a resource to fulfill our imaginations. I pretended that it was a World War II bunker and we were Russian soldiers sneaking up on those dirty Germans. The tunnel was very short, and soon Nate and I found our way climbing back up. However, the trap door was stuck and I didn't think we would make it out, but Nate insisted that it could be opened and with that I pushed it open. We climbed out, only to find another subject of amusement.

There on our left was something of an office. A desk, alarm clock and a paper dated August 30th 2006. I wondered if people came down here a lot. It would be a cool hideout. However, I was still playing war and pretended that in the office sat a German general and Nate and I would sneak up and quietly strangle him.

Around the corner we found a door to get out. We pushed it open and ran out, hoping campus security, or the SS men, would not see us. To our amazement we found ourselves coming out of the opposite dorm we had started. I could hardly contain my excitement.

After one more go around, we decided to take it down a notch and head up to my room. To calm myself down, I picked up my guitar and plucked away. Everyone was surprised at how good I sounded. Daniel, who's a drummer, suggested that we jam some time. I'm having my parents bring up my electric guitar as I speak. I can't wait, I told him I play lead which he said is what his band is looking for.

I wish I could explain the excitement of last night and how good my fiesta burrito from Taco Bell tasted, but I'm just not that skilled as a writer.

Tunnel Enthusiasm is Sweeping the Nation

Today there was a guy in the news who enjoyed tunnels and underage girls a little too much. Here's the link. http://www.cnn.com/2006/US/09/17/text.message.rescue.ap/index.html

The Great Escape

I've never been a great student. The fact that I am in college only proves that any Joe Schmo can get in. This isn't my confusion though.

For the second time this semester my World History professor has walked out of class because of lack of interaction and interest from the students. One second we are talking about ancient Egypt and the Hittites, next she's packed her things and out the door. What she expects from us, I don't know.

This is one of the many disadvantages of attending a smaller college. When a class of 20 is not "participating" the professor notices. So yesterday after 20 minutes of class I found my way walking down from the fourth floor confused just like everyone else. Hey, I'm not complaining I just hope that the stuff we didn't cover in class does show up on an exam.

Recurring not Reoccuring

I was looking through the dictionary and discovered I had misspelled the title to my own blog. A quick change from "Reoccuring" to Recurring was all I needed, but looking back now I can tell that I'm almost illiterate. I mean two "C"s instead of two "R"s.

So now were good and slightly more professional. Did I spell professional right? Aha, I did. Now a days with spell check and all, no one really needs to know how to spell. However, as journalism major and seeing that I am taking an editing course this semester, spell check isn't going to do a whole lot.

Journalism, I've been thinking about this a lot lately. I've been turned off by it. I'm always working on some kind of story, either for the school paper or doing my pr work over at the department of sports information. I don't really enjoy it. Jocks and coaches are always looking down on me because I'm just some stupid reporter glorifying their accomplishments. Its deffinitely a pride swallowing profession. See I did it again, I'm getting pretty good at this spelling thing.

I don't know, I don't want to switch majors now, but I don't see myself working for the Indianapolis Star anytime soon. I get stressed out about deadlines and setting up internships for this summer. I wish I could just relax and go with the flow. I have never had a story that completely failed, I should have more confidence than I do. But I'm always worried that I'm not going to be able to write a long enough report or the people I need to get a hold of won't cooperate. So much to think about, so little time.

However, after work today my boss said that I'm improving on my football game synopsis and have the abilities of a good writer. That compliment renergized me while I was out setting up an interview with the ex quarterback. I really needed that today.

Peace Bridge and Superman II

Saturday night was the best night so far since I've come back. Drank a couple of screw drivers and took a shot to world peace with Elaine. Christine, Elaine's boring friend from Connersville, gagged up on her first shot. It was a funny sequence because she did not want to spew in front of me and instead kept it in her cheeks, what a weirdo.

Next we headed over to Sara Brown's house. I wasn't feeling it quite yet, which was a good thing because I didn't really know Sara or anyone else at the house. Sure enough, after a couple shots of green apple vodka mixed with purple gatorade (MMMM good) I was ready to go.

Had a good time, asked some guy named Randy (I think) what Led Zepplin would have sounded like with a rapper. Called Elaine's roommate a librarian and made my signature peace bridge over Christine and Elaine. Last year after watching American Idol, this contest stood out in my mind because he sang a hilarious rendition of Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge Over Troubled Waters". So in a drunken haze I layed across a group of people on a futon and said that I was their bridge of peace and some how they would all be healed (See Top Pic)

After a while I headed, by myself, to the KDR house. Dancing ensued and before I knew it I was all over the place. I started dancing with Katie B and one of the KDR's said "Sam knock it off, you need to stop it!", it really pissed me off because Katie and I were friends and he was just being a jerk. I just laughed it off and threw my arm around her as we made our way to the couch. I'm not even interested in her, but when she told me that prick, Pat, was like a protective big brother I continued to leave my arm around her. Nate, who was sitting on the other side of Katie actually has a thing for her and supposedly is taking her out this week.

However, I didn't stay long after that. Nate and I went back to his room and watched part of Superman II, the one where Superman throws a giant "S" at one of the villains that basically does nothing to him. As far as I know that is not one of his alien powers and neither is his ability to erase Louise Lane's memory by kissing her. I practiced my plan of escape if an RA were to bust in. Simply role out of the bean bag I was in and under the bed. I wonder if in Superman III he has invisibility, that would come in handy next time I'm out drinking.

Dead, Drunk and Bloated
Franklin College beat Wabash today in overtime 45-38. I was there keeping stats in the press box. Entertaining game, but when you're trying to keep track of who tackled who it gets a little stressful. After the game I went back to the office to write a synopsis, I did it kind of half ass. You can check it out at www.franklincollege.edu pretty much anything written about the football team is mine, its press release work so it's unauthored. I'm not sure signing up for this job was such a good idea. My boss is such a dweeb, he's a push over which is nice, but man what a looser.
Anyway, when I got home I started snacking instead of getting dinner, bad idea. The Chex Mix and Sunkist combo made me really bloated, it freakin hurt. At least I have a full stomach because tonight I'm finally going to get drunk for the first time since I've gotten back on campus. Last night I got to hang out with my roommate Cory and some freshman girls he picked up after coming back from the KDR house. In a way it was funny to see him fall out of chairs and say whatever came to mind, but tonight its my turn.

Why is Paris Hilton a celebrity?

Is it so shocking, socialite Paris Hilton, got pulled over for a dui. I title her socialite because she is nothing more than that. Actor, no way, reality t.v. doesn't count and House of Wax, anyone could be in a horror movie. However, I give two thumbs up to the manikin used to show Paris's head slowling sliding down a metal pipe which had been lanced through her skull. Musician, no, well at least not quite. I admit, she can sing, sing about as well as anyone who can spend millions on record production to make her pitch perfect. Still, there are so many talented musicians out there dying for a chance to be heard, but instead we put up with Paris's best Gwen Steffani knock off hit. Bob Dylan had something interesting to say about today's music a couple of days ago, I forget exactly, but basically its about illegal downloads and how most the music being pirated isn't even worth anything.
So what is she? Exactly what she started out as, a multi millionaire heiress socialite. However, there's no going back to that simple existence now. Now she is beloved by the American media machine. She represents what superficial guys want; skinny blondes, and what every stupid princess wants to be. It's depressing to hear how many girls idolize Paris. For doing What? I've heard this comment so many times, from girls my age.
But now that she's in the spotlight, I can't help but feel sorry for her. Sure she makes stupid comments like comparing herself to Marilyn Monroe and occasionally get caught doing semi-retarded things like getting pulled over for drunk driving and stating that she was only speeding because she had the munchies. Do I wish Paris would just go away? Of Course, but when I see how vulnerable she is it makes me weak. There was one instance where she was being interviewed by a spoof news team and was asked how it felt to be called a giant condom. The look in her face was devastating, sure she's easy and has made her share of mistakes but that comment just about broke her.
Please Paris, just get out of the spotlight now because this is just the beginning.

The One Where He Learns to Blog: Episode 1 Season 1
So here is my forum to post whatever I want on the web. Most of my friends write blogs on Facebook and My Space, but I wanted a place where I could write my thoughts without them reading it, possibly no one.
It took me about an hour to even get this blog started. You see I had started this blog a year ago for a class assignment and now I just want to keep one for my personal interests. Figuring out how to delete my old blogs and edit my profile was mighty confussing. I almost gave up and just started a whole new blog, but I really liked the blog name I had. Plus its important to over come obstacles, especialy when its technology because you don't want to fall behind the rest of society. Come to think of it, how many of the 6 billion people know how to even use a computer. I'm not trying to be a jerk, but its true and maybe it just goes to show that we are leaving too many behind or maybe we have advanced too far.
In my World History class we started the semester by studying early humans; aka hunter and gatherers. Am I the only one who envies this kind of life style. It's so simple and natural. Why did we have to go and learn how to walk upright.