Tight-ink boxes.

My emotions are untamed, vicious, constantly whirling.

They poke, they pull, they jab at my consciousness.

The only way to protect myself is to force them into a word.

Words are like jail cells.

When I confine my emotions, I release my thoughts from unrelenting torture.

Memories, feelings, they can't hurt me--not in their tight-ink boxes.

So, I study them. I learn from them.

They can't hurt me again.

- Brandon

On Sunday, I attended the last learning community workshop in Boland Hall for the purposes of filming it for my Newshouse project (which, btw, will probably be more of a disaster than success, but we'll see). Before the workshop, I interviewed a few of the poets, and because I probably won't be able to use all of it for my project, I'll probably edit a few of them and post on here. I was taken by surprise because I had planned to film the workshop a certain way, but because it was the last one, Michelle (the RA), decided to do something completely different. I think I'll be able to work it out, though.

During the second half of the workshop, Michelle gave the residents index cards and asked them to write what poetry meant to them. A few explained in list form, but others wrote poems. Brandon, whose last name I don't know, hardly ever comes to the workshops but he decided to stop by because it was the last one. By watching him I gathered he's not necessarily a shy person, but when he stood in front of the group, he became sort of bashful and said, "I don't usually write poetry, I just come to listen." When he finished, everyone was stunned. "That was incredible," Cedric Bolton said. A look of awe appeared on Michelle's face. I think Brandon himself didn't expect to receive the response he did. I don't think Brandon himself realized until that moment the talent of the words he spoke. Honestly, it was the best poem read that night.

The only way to protect myself is to force them into a word. They can't hurt me--not in their tight-ink boxes.

Tight-ink boxes. Isn't that wonderful??

I was so bummed because I couldn't make it to the only slam competition of the semester yesterday, but I was occupied with Medley proofs (we sent the magazine to print today! I'm so excited, it's our best issue to date). One of those things--when you want to do two things you love at the same time.

I'm really going to miss Verbal Blend.

THE ONONDAGAN

SYRACUSE 2011 ONONDAGAN PREVIEW

I'm a sucker for nostalgia. I take a lot of photos, often look through aged albums, on occasion peruse my high school, middle school, and elementary school yearbooks. I think a lot about the past, sometimes with regrets. Often times, I'm nostalgic for a past I was never, or could never, be a part of. I look at moments captured of young people, of events, of buildings, from the 50s, 60s, 70s, 80s, 90s and wish, that for a second, I could be a part of that moment. The SU 1988 Onondagan Yearbook, is still, to me, one of the best representations of a moment captured and one of the best compilations of editorial and visual content I have ever seen. I realize that's a little strange to say, but I mean it. (When Justin told me that there remain 127 copies of the '88 book in storage, and that I could have one for free, it made my day, not joking).

But my strange love for nostalgia is not why I took the position as an editor for the 2011 yearbook. I took it because I thought I could squeeze another extracurricular into my schedule and, mostly, because it paid. I'm a little ashamed to say it but I should probably make that clear. I wouldn't have considered the position if it wasn't paid. Only halfway through did I realize I would not be paid nearly enough, and there's a lesson in there somewhere.

As often as I complained, cried, and ranted during the past seven months (holy shit, has it really been 7 months?!) about the work, I'm so glad I did it. I edited, edited, edited, I wrote and rewrote. I learned so much about managing people, dealt with the frustrations of uncooperative writers, and felt the joys of planning a good idea and executing it. I interviewed so many interesting students (especially during winter break, when I finally had the chance to catch up on the work) and learned about the many different facets of the colleges at SU. I'll admit it's a little corny, but I really did enjoy speaking to people about their college experience and learning more about the university through them. I've spent my four years here in the Newhouse bubble, and haven't really tried to understand what it's like for the 2,000+ other students who study a different discipline. And, above all, this book helped me reminisce.

At one point last semester, when all the work just became too overwhelming and I wasn't sure how to handle it, I visited my advisor, former dean of the Newhouse school, who I greatly respect and adore. He suggested I drop something. He told me yearbooks are passe. I disagreed, and really I'm not sure what I was hoping he'd say. I had already committed to yearbook, to Medley, to my classes. I knew dropping something was not an option, I'd have to suck it up. But he was a little right. Though I didn't deal with sales, I heard often how difficult it was to convince seniors to buy the book. My peers don't care about the yearbook. They can find pictures, reconnect, and reminisice on Facebook. And even if they couldn't, I find my generation, my class, is largely apathetic, and not at all sentimental. But I worked hard to curate and create content that maybe 10, 20, 30 years down the line, would evoke some nostalgia and (hopefully) happy memories in whomever decided to purchase the book.

It FINALLY went to print last Monday. We had one of our last meetings today. Now we just wait for the book to arrive during the first week of May (This is the first SU yearbook, btw, in 126 years, that will be delivered to seniors in the spring instead of the fall after they graduate--another reason it was difficult; we had that time crunch). I don't agree with all the artistic decisions (I still lament an illustration of Newhouse 1 instead of Newhouse 3 in Academics, and the removal of a wonderful, but tasteful, full bleed photo of a late-night beer pong game due to, in my opinion, unfounded cautiousness on the part of our advisor). The book is definitely not perfect, but it's pretty damn good, I have to say. It's better. I'm extremely proud of the hard work we put into it and prouder to represent all of the editorial content of the Academic and Student Life sections.

No regrets.

We're too comfortable for change

We're too comfortable for change--picking a name from a ballot is more than enough,

and too much sometimes.

We sit back and watch as the world is controlled from a place too far

from the television screen,

put trust in the knowledge of others, devils in suits,

No questions.

- Amanda Fox-Rouch

Quick Verbal Blend-related post. Last night I attended the weekly Sunday workshops held in Boland Hall, where the poet's learning community resides. The workshops run much like the ones led by Cedric Bolton, except Bolton doesn't attend these and the discussions are facilitated by the students themselves. This week, Michelle, the floor's resident advisor (I've mentioned her in previous posts), led the workshop; she chose Hate Crimes as the night's theme because last week she learned about James Byrd's murder and "couldn't stop thinking about it." For an hour and a half, the 9 students who attended, along with Michelle and Jaris (Boland's residence director) discussed hate crimes and other topics such as fear and hate (and whether one leads to the other), about government, misunderstanding of culture, Westernization, America's influence, money, and how political motives influence government decisions. Like a seasoned professor, Michelle sat at the head of the group and encouraged her peers to express their thoughts and ideas. Some were quieter than others, but all had something to say. I took so many notes and recorded the whole thing, I wish I could say more about it. All I'll say for now is that it was so refreshing to see a young group of students actively, willingly, engaging in intelligent conversation and freely expressing their thoughts while teaching each other, too.

Another idea that stemmed from the conversation was American apathy. A revolution like the one that happened in Egypt could never happen here, Amanda noted; Americans are too comfortable. Above is her poem, written in the 10 minutes after the discussion ended.

I mentioned I would find another way to get Verbal Blend on the Newshouse. I decided to do my final project for Web Journalism about them. The project consists of a story, video, photos, and an interactive component to be published on the site. A little nervous. I have a lot of ideas, I just hope I'm able to execute them.

Nearly Naked Mile

Despite what I said in a previous post about disliking event coverage, I covered another event for my Web Journalism class. Each week, several people in my class are "Newshouse reporters," so we pick from stories available that week and do them. When I received the list of the week, most were events, and I chose the one I thought I'd have the most fun with. It was really between an academic lecture and the Nearly Naked Mile run at SU. I chose the latter. The event was the first-ever at SU (though other universities have held them in the past), hosted by the SU Triathlon club to raise money for themselves and the community. Read: "Runners Strip Down for a Good Cause." The event started at 8, ended at about 8:30, came home, transcribed all the interviews I had and then went to bed, woke up early, and wrote the story. It takes me so long to write! I really need to improve. Also, I need to realize when writing for the Newshouse, that it's still very much news. I spent so much time trying to capture the feel of the event and trying to be creative, and then my editor shortened my piece to reveal only the most important information about the event.

Well, it was wild. I arrived at about 7:15 to the registration table to talk to people and only the members of the club were there. All really friendly people. Joseph Prosnitz, who I mention in the story, was one of the first people I interviewed (I had interviewed Dan Larkin, who was also there, earlier in the day, and Paul Knepley via phone the day before). When I met him, he was jumping up and down and talking extremely fast. He's hyper and he talks a lot. For the record, I interviewed him for about 10 minutes and he was jumping THE WHOLE TIME. Not exaggerating, I was pretty dizzy after our interview ended. But he's a funny kid, and I thought the perfect person to lead my story with. Members weren't sure about the turnout because it was cold and raining--not hard, but enough to possibly discourage participants. But half hour before the event started, people started showing up. Some included older women from the community wearing bunny ears, Mike Collins (mentioned in story) in his orange suit, and girls with painted faces dressed to win the race's SU Spirit contest. Fun crowd, I'd say.

The transition from quiet crowd of few, mostly clothed, people to a LOUD, large crowd of nearly naked, people happened so fast. Next thing you know, Dan is standing on the bus stop yelling from a megaphone, vying for everyone's attention. Everyone just seemed so excited, but also really cold and anxious for the event to start. But for the most part, I think a lot of people felt thrilled to say that they participated in such an event. Honestly, most students probably just wanted an excuse to be able to strip and run around campus. Actually, I'm pretty sure of it, haha.

Anyway, after a while my hands were numb and I could barely take my recorder out of my pocket, let alone take notes. I always underestimate the way my body will react to the weather when I'm out on an assignment. Journalists on TV make it look so effortless. Luckily, I also managed to take a few photographs because the photographer the Newshouse sent had "technical difficulties." My photos aren't great by ANY means and I was bummed to hear that the photographer couldn't capture anything because I think there was opportunity to take some really great shots. I just sort of took mine for proof that the event happened, haha. But it shows I need to stay on top of these things and, in the future, take as many good photos as I can, even if I'm not assigned to.

By the end, I was freezing (literally had to stop in a building on my way home so my feet could defrost) but happy I went. The one thing I want to end this event coverage post with is an observation about myself. I think I've alluded to this in the past but journalism, in many ways, has been my excuse--an excuse for my shy self to step out into the world and ask the many questions that exist in my mind that I'd otherwise be afraid to ask. I'm not saying journalism is the only reason, but it's definitely been a great factor in helping me conquer that timidness, and fear. I'm still not the most outgoing person you'll ever meet. It still takes me a lot of courage to be the first to speak, or the first to walk up to someone and introduce myself, and I usually don't do it unless I have to. But that's my point. Because of journalism I've had to. Friday was a challenge because there was a lot of down time and I couldn't just sit there and observe, so I walked up to a bunch of people, introduced myself and asked questions. Because I haven't really covered events, I haven't had to do interviews in that way. (I don't mind talking to people--I love it--it's the approaching that's difficult). But I knew I couldn't just stand there and watch. What if that one person has a great story? A great anecdote? The quote that will make the piece? An angle I never thought of? The fear of missing something combined with the pressure of the impending deadline and the desire to do good work forces me to brave myself and walk up to someone, extend my arm, shake their hand, and start a conversation.

I'm extremely grateful to journalism for that.