I've been having a fairly free week this week assignment-wise. I've been enjoying shooting video so I let the head of that team know I was available to shoot video if needed. She called me to her desk and told me they would like to have a fireworks testing video done. The premise was to get some interns together and get them in lab coats giving commentary on some store bought collections of fireworks.
I went to one of our interns but he seemed relatively unimpressed with the idea...and boring. Boring doesn't work when you need colorful commentary.
I was chatting with Thomas about the idea and he said he would help me with it. We brainstormed a bit and I blurted-out that I thought using a puppet with the intern would be funny. "Go storyboard and I'll be by at 7" said Thomas, who would be coming with props, gear and an intern to make some flames in my backyard.
Obsessed with the puppet idea, I went home and sewed some puppets. I made two of "Puppet" (I couldn't think of a more clever name on the spot) because I intended to have some fireworks lighting incident with her.
The boys (and in this scenario, I do mean boys because the project was like being back in my childhood basement making stupid sketches with my high school buddies) showed-up and we scampered to collaborate something together as the yard got darker and the mosquitoes bit more (I counted 41 bites on one foot the next morning).
We took it in to Aisha, video editor extraordinaire, and that was that.
CLICK HERE AND HAVE A SAFE ONE!
There's now talk of doing a series with Puppet...when she recovers completely.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Monday, June 30, 2008
Crybaby Goonies
Rachel and I were watching the '80s classic, The Goonies yesterday. I felt like I've wrapped my brain around the reality of our professional situation fairly well. It's very clear though that my brain has unwrapped, or it was never wrapped around to begin with. I knew this when Sloth looked down at Chunk at the end of the movie and said, "Sloth...love...Chunk!" and I wanted to burst into tears. Over a kids movie with over-dramatic 13 year olds in it and bad 1980's fashion.
On the way to work I was listening to an interview with Leonard Downey, Jr. the head at Washington Post who is stepping down. He was talking about the state of newspapers and such. A truck driver called in and told him how much he loved the WP. How he would always seek it out when he was in the metro area. I became weepy. Someone appreciating what we do.
I never thought about that much before when people told me while I was on assignment, "Oh the Palm Beach Post? I love that paper! That's my paper!"
It has all new importance to me now.
On the way to work I was listening to an interview with Leonard Downey, Jr. the head at Washington Post who is stepping down. He was talking about the state of newspapers and such. A truck driver called in and told him how much he loved the WP. How he would always seek it out when he was in the metro area. I became weepy. Someone appreciating what we do.
I never thought about that much before when people told me while I was on assignment, "Oh the Palm Beach Post? I love that paper! That's my paper!"
It has all new importance to me now.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Work
I'm a bit concerned that I am experiencing some denial. I am aware of what's going on at work. HERE'S A REMINDER. Somehow, I am convinced everything will be OK. Perhaps I'm convinced everything will be ok for me, though I may feel differently after a few weeks living at my parents' place should I choose to take the buyout. Not that my parents aren't wonderful, they are. It's just that I'm 32. And single. And living with my parents.
Last night, a Pity Party was thrown in response to the latest shake-up in our building. People talked elusively about whether or not they would be taking the buyout. Over whether or not they would take it should they be eligible.
I have been working a lot which I'm enjoying. I need to remind myself that I may not be doing this for much longer. I need to remember to absorb it, without driving myself into a depressive stupor.
I do love what I do. I would miss what I do.
Looking across the newsroom last week, there were little clusters of people kibitzing all over. Work was getting done, but it was secondary I think, to consoling each other and helping each other through the five stages of grief. Those who are eligible for the buyout and are considering it are finding themselves wondering; If I decline a buyout and make it through the next round of layoffs and perhaps another one after that, what will it all look like when all the dust settles and the rubble is carried away (though I don't know who would be left to clean-up said rubble)? It's not the place many of us were hired to join.
I'm not saying it's anyone's fault. I'm just expressing how completely bizarre and strange this all is. People who have dedicated their entire lives to bringing stories of the community to area readers have to find something else to do to make money because somehow, in the downpour of reality TV, advertisers, celebrity gossip, and society's lack of patience and desire for instant info gratification, most of America walked away from wanting to know the truth.
It is a reporter's job to piss you off. It is their job to show you that things are not what you think they are, that changes need to be made, that the politician you voted for isn't the perfect choice you thought they would be, that you have neighbors living in squalor, that your schools are not doing what your taxes are paying them to do, and so on.
There has been lots of talk about journalism leaving the newspaper business. That all it's about these days is making money, getting advertisers, trying to find a way to get well into the black.
Tell them what they want to hear is not what journalism is. And thus, journalism is changing. Or, journalism is leaving and something else is taking it's place.
And now I am reminded why I feel OK. If I actually think about it, it's too daunting for my brain to "get". So, I just don't get into it.
Last night, a Pity Party was thrown in response to the latest shake-up in our building. People talked elusively about whether or not they would be taking the buyout. Over whether or not they would take it should they be eligible.
I have been working a lot which I'm enjoying. I need to remind myself that I may not be doing this for much longer. I need to remember to absorb it, without driving myself into a depressive stupor.
I do love what I do. I would miss what I do.
Looking across the newsroom last week, there were little clusters of people kibitzing all over. Work was getting done, but it was secondary I think, to consoling each other and helping each other through the five stages of grief. Those who are eligible for the buyout and are considering it are finding themselves wondering; If I decline a buyout and make it through the next round of layoffs and perhaps another one after that, what will it all look like when all the dust settles and the rubble is carried away (though I don't know who would be left to clean-up said rubble)? It's not the place many of us were hired to join.
I'm not saying it's anyone's fault. I'm just expressing how completely bizarre and strange this all is. People who have dedicated their entire lives to bringing stories of the community to area readers have to find something else to do to make money because somehow, in the downpour of reality TV, advertisers, celebrity gossip, and society's lack of patience and desire for instant info gratification, most of America walked away from wanting to know the truth.
It is a reporter's job to piss you off. It is their job to show you that things are not what you think they are, that changes need to be made, that the politician you voted for isn't the perfect choice you thought they would be, that you have neighbors living in squalor, that your schools are not doing what your taxes are paying them to do, and so on.
There has been lots of talk about journalism leaving the newspaper business. That all it's about these days is making money, getting advertisers, trying to find a way to get well into the black.
Tell them what they want to hear is not what journalism is. And thus, journalism is changing. Or, journalism is leaving and something else is taking it's place.
And now I am reminded why I feel OK. If I actually think about it, it's too daunting for my brain to "get". So, I just don't get into it.
Florida's Death Row
J. Gwen Berry, multi-media extraordinaire, has been spending months on this project about death row in Florida. I think she did an exceptional job. It's not an upper, but it is interesting.
CHECK IT OUT HERE.
CHECK IT OUT HERE.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
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