In Memoriam

"I sometimes hold it half a sin
To put in words the grief I feel;
For words, like Nature, half reveal
And half conceal the Soul within.

But, for the unquiet heart and brain,
A use in measured language lies;
The sad mechanic exercise,
Like dull narcotics, numbing pain.

In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er,
Like coarsest clothes against the cold:
But that large grief which these enfold
Is given in outline and no more." - Alfred Lord Tennyson, In Memoriam A.H.H.

The Fringe Festival Post, Part Two

So it took me a better portion of the morning and an additional half an hour to get used to the new format of the NewsHouse blog, but I finally posted up the second part of my FringeNYC experience.

After two months, I finally got to review something again. And it feels good, though it always makes me sad writing bad reviews (even it's more fun). But the fun is undercut by the fact that an hour and a half was spent seeing something that was painful, and then I just get angry.

The Fringe Festival Post, Part One

Over the past two weeks, while I was on vacation (and working on another piece for the "New Times," the Syracuse newspaper), I also made my first contribution to the NewsHouse website.

The Country House Post

Allison is a country girl and I am a city girl. She loves rolling hills of green trees, I find it mysterious and kind of fear it. She is from upstate New York. I am from California. She walks absurdly fast. I walk rather slowly (not surprising because I have very short legs).

I met Allison during my first two weeks in Europe. We were both Americans, far from home (me farther than her of course) and somehow went on the same tour of Coventry together. Then we went to London together. Then Paris. Then Italy. Then the Germanic nations. And etc, etc, etc.

So when I first moved to Syracuse, the first person I told was Allison. The next thing I knew, we were planning a trip together, to her family's cottage on the Finger Lakes.

The Boot Camp Retrospective

So it's the end of the Newhouse "Boot Camp," what was called by many as 6 weeks of tortured hell, of late nights, early mornings, deadlines galore, and general brain-dead moments starring at the computer screen.

Though I cannot say that I didn't enjoy the experience, it was an educational introduction into the upcoming year, one that will include multiple deadlines, AP stylebook issues, drafts upon drafts, and waiting for people to respond to your phone calls.

The Wegmans Post

(in the tune of 'Maria' from Leonard Bernstein's "Westside Story." Mr. Bernstein, I apologize in advance and please do not haunt me for this.)

Oh Wegmans, I've just found a store here called Wegmans

The Toilet Humor Post

There comes a time when as a writer, you've been working with too many deadlines, and pressures, and assignments coming at you. When people do not talk to you or take forever replying back to your phone calls. When you've spent weeks interviewing for a subject only to realize that you still have more questions to ask. And when you are so damn tired of this story that you've spent three weeks on and you still need to write a final draft.

This is when you go off the deep end.

The Idaho v. Maine Post

My fellow student and arts journalist, Amanda, grew up on a dairy farm. When I found out, my mind immediately went straight to the image of a German milkmaid, carrying a pail of milk. Perhaps it is sunset and in the background is a picturesque little white-washed house. In other words, the exact opposite of my experience growing up, nearby the freeway and always being slightly scared of nature.

The Helicopter on Campus Post

We interrupt this blog for a very important bulletin.