the bird flu personified

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays - can you call it a holiday? - of the year, and much thought and care goes into my costumes. Often, women tend to throw clever out the window and use Halloween as an opportunity to dress slutty (Meangirls, anyone?) by donning some fishnets, a bustier, and maybe some ears or horns. Guys on the other hand usually just slap on a fake mustache and polyester jacket and call themselves a pimp, or this year, Ron Burgundy.

That's not really my speed. Like the good, nerdy journalist I am, I like to look to the headlines for inspiration.

This year, my friend CK and I dressed as the bird flu. We crafted chicken wings tied to our arms and an orange feather plume and tail. Then we wrapped ourselves in bathrobes, slid on a pair of slippers and made a necklace of flu medication labels. The kicker was wearing medicine bottles around our necks with the word Tamiflu scrawled over it.

Most folks got it, and thought it was hysterical. One guy who didn't revealed he hadn't read a newspaper since 2001 (that was the end of that conversation) and another girl stared at me blankly and then said quite frankly she had never heard of the bird flu and had no idea what I was talking about. (My screaming, "But it's a pandemic!" - our catch phrase for the night - did little to jog her memory.)

Other amazing costumes of the night included donning a homemade pair of waders (you know, those tall rubber boots for fishing) and carrying an oar to be Roe v. Wade. Another friend of mine wore a hot black dress with a red bow and a tag that read "To: Men, From: God")

getting in touch with my inner grandma

I have turned over a new leaf. I have decided to take those goals I have in the back of my mind (and on a piece of notebook paper, titled "Things to do before I die, or sooner"), and get to work.

I started a jogging regimen. Regimen might be a strong word, as today was the first day of running, if you could call it that.

I plan to sign up for a black and white darkroom developing class starting next week.

And perhaps most exciting - I learned to knit. That's right folks. I have been wanting to for a long time. I was even given a how-to book for Christmas last year, but in classic Sara fashion I would pick it up, try a couple stitches, mess up and put the needles away. (Kind of like the time, at age 13, I wanted to be drummer Lars Ulrich, got a set, took lessons, and realized my brother was perhaps more musically inclined than I, and quit. Or the figure skating: I was struggling on the axle (that's a jump, people), got bored and quit.)

I digress. Again, new leaf. And so far, the knitting was really fun. It's not quite relaxing yet, though, as I am finding I am clenching my jaw in concentration as I knit, but I expect that to change. I managed to stitch a ten-row patch. At this rate, everyone in my family is getting 3-inch pot holders for Christmas. "Oh, ignore the holes and the stray loops sticking out on the side - it's for holding a tiny, thin pot handle!"

But I am determined not to throw in the needle this time. Before you know it, Martha Stewart is going to have me on her show for segment on scarves, stockings, sweaters....

sad state of journalism affairs

Here are a couple not-so-encouraging media-related news items today, courtesy the SPJ daily email. Wow.

Newspaper columnist Ann Coulter confessed in a speech that she's "not a big fan of the First Amendment," according to E&P. She apparently "criticized the media for being liberal and Democrats for whining about their rights under the First Amendment. 'They're always accusing us of repressing their speech,' she said. 'I say let's do it. Let's repress them.'"

The Newark Weekly News has entered a $100,000 contract with the city council to publish only positive news about the city. The owner says he is providing the city a service. "Do we have invesigative reporters? No. Our niche is the good stuff," he said, according to The Star-Ledger. The paper can only generate stories based on ledes from the council and the mayor's office.

what the listserv issue was really about

More important than the ensuing debate on the appropriate "netiquette" for blogs and listservs was the topic of the initial post, which made it in the Chicago Tribune today.

See, if you'll recall, a woman had posted a note looking for a media consultant. Little did she realize, I suppose, she was sending this request out to a bunch of news-hungry sharks who jumped on the story. Sure, this CEO who needs image help may not be a big honcho, but now we are all fiercely looking out for him.

As the Tribune's Phil Rosenthal puts it:

"Unfortunately for Pamela Cramer, whose name was on the request--and for the unnamed CEO--it turns out Medill has produced a fair number of actual reporters and editors, some of whom were more interested in uncovering more about the pending tax case than in helping to buff up the accused's image. Shocking, no?"

Oops, Pamela.

OK that is the last I will mention this little listserv debacle. ... Unless something else interesting comes up.

One more thing - As we all remember the Internet is in no way anonymous, also remember that no one cares. It is a massive, massive web of billions of people writing about billions of things posting billions of stories, musings, pictures. In the end, no one cares. In the end, no one (except perhaps journos and those on the listserv) really cares about Pamela or about my own words on the topic.

I kind of wish I cared about baseball

So the Chicago White Sox are going to the World Series, and people here are just nuts over it.

I know a kid who got tickets to Game 1 this weekend. Apparently his roommate knows someone. I read today that one guy wanting tickets offered to give up his kidney - you're choice, right or left - for tickets. One woman offered nudie pictures. Some tickets were reselling for $15,000. They sold out in 18 minutes. Crazy, I tell you.

I wonder, is there anything in this world I would pay that much money - or at least the few hundred dollars others are paying - to see? My max was dishing out $100 for Prince show in Atlanta, and shoot, I'd do that again, and maybe even double it. I was close to paying out that much to see Bon Jovi, but came to my senses.

Perhaps if I was more of a sports fan, I would understand. My inaugural baseball game was the Boston Red Sox at Fenway Park when I was in college. As amazing and historic and yadda, yadda, yadda as that park was, I recall it being an excruciatingly boring game. And that was even after drinking a 40 oz. of malt liquor before the game. Gross.

A few years later (this summer) I went to a Nationals game in DC, and surprisingly had a blast - and I think it was more than the beer and the company that made it fun. The game was actually entertaining. But would I pay $100 or $300 or $15,000 to see it? Give up a kidney? Not a chance.

the joys of the journalists' listserv

A request was sent out on Medill's alumni listserv today, seeking a media consultant to develop a Martha Stewart-style plan for a top Chicago CEO facing a federal tax indictment later this week.

What ensued was more than two dozen responses from Medill alumni, some suggesting what the CEO should do ("how about coming clean?"), but most debating what is appropriate for a listserv.

One respondent said it should NOT be a "forum for glib pronouncements," and reminding everyone that it is an indictment, not a conviction.

Another suggested the listserv not be used for the "the recruitment of hired hands to massage the image of those facing federal indictment." This promptly stoked the fire of the debate with alumni weighing in on what, if any, rules govern the listserv. One person reminded the list we are journalists, and stifling free speech is "repulsive."

Most responses after that agreed, saying they enjoyed the spirited debate, as I certainly did. (Especially considering these are some hot-shot Chicago journalists.) At one point, the conversation veered back to the lecture at hand - the CEO - and several agreed to keep an eye on the morning papers to see just who this person is. Interestingly, one respondent even mused who would get the story first, considering that the listserv was essentially a tip, and just what path that tip took before it reached the papers.

a few things I learned from being home

So I spent a few days in the 'Ham, and here are a few things I learned:

1. Yard sales are ten times more fun when you follow your 8 a.m. cup of coffee with four beers, all before noon ... But items marked for $5 quickly become, "Oh I don't care, you can have it."

2. Everyone I know from my high school years is engaged or married... (except for one friend who is about to be divorced). Although it makes me feel a little old and scared, it's nice to see said friends and realize nothing has changed.

3. My step-sister and I may never be best friends, but she did look me in the eye this time, which, sadly, is progress.

4. Our siblings will always know just what buttons to push to make us completely lose our ever-loving mind. And they will do so, often unwittingly, for the rest of our lives.

5. It is essential in life to surround yourself with people that make you laugh and that bring out the funniest in you. (You know you're doing good when you find yourself thinking, 'Man, we should have our own show.')

6. Sunday night steak dinners, eaten while sitting on the front porch drinking wine and telling stories, is one of the greatest parts of my trips home.

7. It's true what they say - You can take the girl out of the South, but you can never take the South out of the girl.

I gave in

I was sitting at the kitchen counter with my brother the other day, and he looks at me, touches his hair, and says, "Hey can you see my gray hairs?"

Me: "Did you just say that because you can see mine?"

Brother: "Yea, a little."

So I finally gave in. I marched down to CVS and bought a box of Clairol hair color - the low ammonia kind, though, that washes out in a month... I am still new at this, kind of... at least as a grown-up - and dyed my hair a deep brown. Really, it looks exactly the same, but without those stubborn grays peeking out.

While my step-mother was applying the docile brown color and I was feeling generally just old, she reminded me of the day I stripped my hair to near-white with bleach and then dyed it purple (which really turned out to be this pink-violet on top and deep burgundy underneath). Or that time I went bright red and then let it grow out with my black roots. Ah those were the days. More than a decade later (save for another bleach-blond-to-red disaster in college), I am dying again.

So I have given in, and there is really no turning back. Sad.

advice from the pros

On my visit home to see friends and family, I met with the Executive Editor and the Editorial Editor of The Birmingham News. I figured any hand-shaking and networking I can do in the newspaper world can only help me.

Here's some of what I took away:

First, the Editorial Editor loved my plan to become fluent in Spanish. I hadn't really considered how much that might boost my marketability, but when I told him how I was heading to Honduras, his eyes lit up, and he said that is the best thing I could do right now. In fact, they had been looking to hire a Spanish-speaking reporter, and had a tough time finding one. Then on my way out, he told me to keep in touch when I get back to the States...

The main man of the newsroom had such a fresh perspective on the path of a new reporter. Six months ago, he would have told a recent grad to follow the traditional path that we all have ingrained in our heads: start at a small-town daily, then move up to a mid-sized paper then on to the big times. Any experience other than daily experience is "discounted," it doesn't mean as much, if anything at all.

But that has all changed just in the last few months. He said he couldn't believe he was telling me this, but while I am pursuing a job at a mid-size daily, consider other outlets - Web sites, alternative weeklies. You don't have to take the traditional route anymore, because the newspaper world is changing so rapidly and by the time we make it to the "big times," that will mean something completely different. Newspapers might not look like they do now or approach stories as they do now. A diverse and unique career approach might make a reporter more attractive, showing that she anticipates the changes at papers, can take a different approach at reaching an audience, for example.

That kind of experience is no longer "discounted." Where he once would look at an applicant and write her off is she spent time at an alternative weekly, for example, he now would be much more inclined to see what she can bring to the daily paper.

As someone conditioned to take the traditional route - and coming from a strong grad school where the pressure is on to land a job at a respected (and big) daily paper, while veering from that path gets scoffs and disappointing "maybe she can't handle a daily" head shakes - this forced me to look at it differently. Although, when I close my eyes and think of where I want to be, I can picture the buzz and chaos of a daily newsroom, there isn't just one single path to get there. I think that was the point he was trying to make. Keep trying for that job, he said, but while you are, consider a less traditional route. No longer is that likely to hurt you - and may help - in the long run, and ever-changing world of news.

He also reminded me that I am in my mid-20s and I should enjoy myself and live somewhere I am happy (which often times is not the small town in middle America with a small daily paper).

Now I wonder if other editors are thinking that way, or if I veer from the mapped out path, stepping up the stairs of circulation size, I would find myself scoffed out of the running for a job at a daily. I admit I am a little nervous about considering it and in my own snobby way don't equate other jobs with daily papers, but now have it in my mind to ask other editors I meet. What would you say if my work experience included two years at an alternative weekly or a news web-site, rather than say, the 50,000 circulation Po Dunk Daily News?

Then I have to really look at my own desires. Do I picture a daily newsroom because I really want that pace, lifestyle, pay, stress? Or do I picture it because I am supposed to, because I think that has more cred than other outlets and that I need to do that to be a "legitimate" reporter? If I love writing and reporting (truthfully more than I love news itself), do I have to be at a daily newspaper (especially considering that fewer and fewer people even read their dailies, and rather are turning to said Web sites and alternative weeklies)?

The editor told me that although newspaper jobs are tight right now, it's not a bad time to be looking for reporting jobs. It's just a different time, and you have to be open to the different paths. Again, I am back to the fact that we are given so much choice that it's often stifling.

[Sidebar: Another thing he told me was that he used to be staunch about the paper's 3 to 5 years experience requirement for hiring new reporters. He said that is beginning to relax across the industry as papers are realizing we young reporters are the ones that are often key to reaching a younger more diverse audience. Duh. Now give us jobs, people. (And in the toot-my-own-horn category...) He also said wherever I look for work, just get an interview. I come across well - passionate, experienced, eager, personable - in the interview, he said, where on paper I could get lost among candidates with more requisite years of work under their belts.]

and we even found time to squeeze in a lecture

So on Friday, I woke up too early, as usual, with a 5 p.m. deadline on a story I hadn't started, a hangover, and my friend CK sleeping on my floor.

I had every intention of having an omelet at Melrose diner and then seriously hunkering down to do this ultra-complicated story on the joys of neonatal bioethics (yikes!). But since I am easily persuaded and convinced myself I would get more done, I joined CK for a trip to an Internet cafe.

Halfway there, we ingeniously decided to instead just go to our old stomping grounds for free Internet, printer, stapler, the works.

I was feeling a little crunched for time as we giggled our way to get coffee and a cookie and meandered to what felt like every computer lab in the entire university (all occupied). But the hangover was keeping any panic about my story at bay.

We finally settle in, having successfully dodged my good ol' Econ professor and found an empty lab (save for the young man who informed us that it might a little strange but he was going to change clothes right then and there if that's OK with us.... "Oh it's not just a little strange," CK tells him, "it's a lot strange" and we proceed to talk incessantly and nervously for the next three minutes.) We are working away for a whopping 20 minutes before CK's very important appointment (hair cut), when who should walk into the computer lab? Ellen, our professor from DC, in town doing some general university brown-nosing. Ten minutes later, we had somehow agreed to speak to the new Intro class about the wonders of DC reporting. It was noon and I had barely a lede.

"But I haven't taken a shower!" CK tells Ellen. And I, eyes-swollen and feeling roughly like a pile of poop with a looming deadline and nary a clue about the complexities of neonatal ethics, was rocking a danky camo T-shirt from high school and dirty jeans. That didn't stop us. Nope. We stood up there and urged those fresh faces to surrender to the DC pull. I gave my shpiel about how I had no intention of going back to that god awful swamp, but that Ellen showed me the light it completely changed my Medill experience and my life.

We answered questions about how to find stories, what to do about housing, what our client papers were like. The wildest part was that she introduced us as alums. Yowza.

So by 12:30 we were out of there and racing to the car, just so we could sit painfully in traffic for the next 45 minutes, making CK late for her appointment and my head pound ever-so-slightly with dread, phrases like "moral consensus" and "hubris of the intelligencia" swirling around my mind. I could feel the time slipping through my fingers.

I finally got home, was visited by my muse and miraculously hammered out the story (haven't seen the edits yet, so not sure it was of the greatest caliber) and even had time for nap before heading to the airport to meet the BF.

Como se dice "holy crap I'm going to Honduras, bitches"?

It's official. I booked the flight to go to Honduras in January for a month to get my Spanish on.

Can't wait.

Now I just have to figure out how to pay for it.

I am beginning to think....

... that Harry Connick Jr.'s constant appearances from New Orleans on day time television is becoming less about raising awareness after the hurricane and more about shameless self-promotion.

... freelancing is so much more efficient than spending the day in an office. Chances are, I am spending almost as much time on stories as I did as a staffer, but less time staring at a computer screen or the fuzzy wall of a cubicle.

... that despite that, I miss the newsroom, and I find myself browsing Journalism Jobs and stalking the listings of a few newspapers.

... that my friend working in Venezuela isn't living in the safest environment in the world, but I am certain it will make him a better journalist and person.

... that it is a sad state of affairs when more Americans are overweight (55 percent)than read the newspaper (42 percent).

... that the Ten Commandments judge Roy Moore in Alabama actually has a fighting chance to be governor of that state, an ambition he just announced, which I find to be frightening.

... that I should start a love advice column because I like to act like (and think) I know what I am talking about when my friends unload to me.

... that given too many choices in life, I may never be satisfied and will live in a perpetual state of Limbo wondering if I have made the right move or what it would be like if I did something differently.