You’ve gotta appreciate the service journalism from the New York Times. I mean, I don’t know about you, but I certainly don’t want a president who has neither lips nor skin pigment, and who is being referred to as “lonely” (and appears to be on the verge of man-tears..?).
If only there were a… Oh, well, would you look at that.
I’m blogging daily for those crazy kids at CollegeOTR. Fair warning: tomorrow I’m writing about Brooke Hogan. Sorry, guys, but I want the page views!!
I archived the radio documentaries I worked on at Columbia in this handy hip muxtape format in hopes of landing a job at KQED. Please only leave very positive comments about my comedic timing and ability to write short declarative sentences on the off chance that they see this blog post.
When I first started volunteering at 826 New York City last November, I was warned, as “a journalist,” that I was not to use my role as a tutor to facilitate my “career” as a “writer;” i.e. no interviewing, no poking around, no pursuing of stories behind the secret book-case-come-door panel that leads to the back room at the Superhero Supply Company on 5th Avenue in Brooklyn. Considering I was using the opportunity more to clarify if I really did hate kids or not (not, mostly, it turns out) the warning struck me as particularly laughable. But then I found myself writing down all the cute stuff they said…
In April I (temporarily) ended my once-a-week stint disciplining the children at 826–and a few weeks later, I started getting nostalgic for their youth. I realized that my favorite part about the kids was that they weren’t as boring as most of the people I interacted with each day. Examples:
-Do you live with your dad?
-Nope. I live with my friend.
-… How old are you?
-Yeah, like real vegetarians. I have friends who don’t even wear leather…
-Oh my god!
-Fish sleep with their eyes open.
-So do some people.
-Yeah, the ones in jail.
-If my calculations are correct, love is a feeling.
Next time: a collection of quotes from my former grizzled, formerly-homeless-alcoholic 48 year old housemate. I’m all about fair and balanced.
New York Magazine somewhat recently published a cover story on how (and how not) to praise kids such that they grow up into unmotivated twixter brats who have no self confidence and/or work ethic. In a nutshell: don’t tell them they’re smart (or stupid); do tell them they worked hard (or didn’t). This seems to explain a lot of the nearly life-long problems for a surprising number of my friends: instead of being properly mirrored by their parents and teachers, they got the fun-house version, a warped kind of reality where being smart gets you ahead in life–plus makes you superskinny.
It’s Generation Me Me Me! Or at least that’s how Jean Twenge sees it in this NPR interview. She blames the “self-focus [and] inflated expectations” on 1. schools (and their self-esteem programs [any first-hand evidence of this? sounds like madness to me]), 2. the media (aww, Jean), 3. parents (cum-NYM). She really lets the sarcasm fly in this piece, saying parents act as though “feeling good about yourself is the most important thing in the world–more than working hard or having talent or caring for other people.” And that the citizens of Generation Me (like, um, me!) are entirely self-focused, care only about becoming rich and famous, and feel “entitled and like [we] deserve special treatment.” I think she spits a little on the mic at that point.
After I wiped the hysterical tears from my eyes, this stuff came off like salt in my narcissistic wound. But then I realized that this seems to breed a special, deep-seated and ugly kind of guilt in people who know/think they’re capable of more, but don’t know how to apply themselves to get it. At least they feel good doing it, whereas I blame myself for my failures (like not updating this blog nearly enough). I think the answer is to aim lower. It usually works.
It’s only been like, six days! And it was great! Lots of Mr. Brendan Burford’s Syncopated Three’s on hand for the buying and viewing pleasure of all. Depicted: the lovely and talented Ms. Caroline Dworin and myself. Caroline did a bang-up job copy-editing the book. You should really go buy one! Except that you can’t yet. But maybe you should write it on a post-it note and put it on the wall above your desk or something so you don’t forget by the time it’s available in stores. Which will be, like, really soon!
The third volume of the excellent reportage comics anthology Syncopated is debuting in a couple weeks. I wrote an article and illustrated an illustration for this volume — it is otherwise crammed full of excellent talents. And we all know that comics + excellent talents = free beer! I’m third down, third across. Hope you can make it! except if you don’t like comics, talents and/or beer, in which case you should just stay home. And maybe stop reading this blog.
Last week Radaronline.com broke the story that there’d been allegations of cheating on the open-book, take-home ethics final (there must be a j-schooler interning there). The story was later picked up
by the Times and now everyone’s freaking out about the immoral Columbia j-student body. The strangest aspect of this story is that no one is attempting to address the central issue: how, in fact, do you cheat on an open-book, take-home ethics final? It’s also strange that people seem to find this surprising, though perhaps this surprise is just hiding their glee at watching the privileged falter. Or something.
A current j-school student has started a blog dedicated only to this topic, which I might express surprise at just to hide my glee at watching the privileged be idiots. S/he vehemently defends Mr. Sam Freedman, the unfortunate new professor lecturer of the ethics course. “He’s the captain and we’re just sailing on his ship right? As long as we get to our final destination, who the hell cares?”
No comments. Now that’s surprising.
+ LA hospitals dumping discharged patients on Skid Row: Some are homeless — and some aren’t! And they wonder why everyone knows Los Angelinos are idiots.
+ Sixapart launches Vox: Better switch over those LJ accounts, kiddies.
+ Gay marriage in NJ: Maybe Jersey isn’t worthless after all. Who knew?
+ Free papers flood subway: But the New York Press sure is! (Just kidding maybe!)
A week after Katie Couric’s unfortunate CBS Evening News debut, I cannot help but reflect on what Couric’s new $15 million position means for America.
Like, bad things.
So, first sole female evening news anchor – uh huh, whatever. She broke the glass ceiling with one high cheerleader kick – not with actual journalism experience or thoughtful reportage. She’s exactly what America v. ’06 wants: attractive, vapid and rich. She’s topping the ratings because we’ve sunk to a new low. She showed the Tom Cruise (alien) baby pictures on the evening news for christ’s sake.
What I’m really trying to say is I’m glad I don’t own a television.
