One Time I Ate Probably Way Too Many Mushrooms And I Could Feel My Trip Going Bad. So, I Turned To My

The Mouse and the Shoe Box

I am not exactly sure what was done that night was the right thing, but this is what happened. It was during my sophomore year of college back in St. Louis during the spring when I and two of my friends, Mandy and Angela went out for a walk through Washington University’s campus one night.

It sat directly across the street from us with lights and black gates surrounding it like the jewels of an oversized crown. I tended to go along because it was the size of a small city compared to ours and I think I just liked to be part of something bigger than myself. I always felt like that place was consciously trying to swallow up as much space as possible.

I can’t recall what was said in particular during our walk, but something stifled our habitual chatter that was our nightly ritual. This was when we saw the mouse. It mustn’t have been any bigger than a golf ball. Its tail bent at an almost perfect 90 degree angle and uselessly dangled at the broken joint.

Upon noticing our presence, it tried to flee as one would when one finds three giants of unknown species lumbering towards you at night. But without the aid of a working tail for balance, its intended trajectory towards a nearby bush fell apart. It slowly and involuntarily drifted towards its left. Constantly it tried righting itself only to veer off course away from the apparent safety of the shrubbery. It looked to me like a ship trying to dock only to be pushed back out by the tide. The frustration from its little ruddy brown frame was palpable.

My two companions went into a frenzy of compassion for this creature as they stooped closer to examine it. I stayed behind, watching the scene a few steps back. Soon they concocted a plan to save this unfortunate thing.

For we all thought, in its present state, it was easy prey for something bigger and faster than itself. Mandy kept watch over the mouse as Angela ran back to her dorm room to grab an old converse shoe box. I slowly let out a sigh of resignation for the night.

When she returned, the two of them tried coaxing the now equally confused and frightened mouse inside.  As the two finally managed the task by lightly shoving it inside with the shoe box lid, I couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the whole thing unfolding before me.

To this day I’m not sure if my embarrassment was for me or the mouse - maybe for the both of us. When we got back to our campus they tried feeding it leaves of lettuce. Hoping that by tomorrow it would be able to fend for itself. Angela volunteered to keep it in her room to supervise their furry refugee.

The mouse was dead by morning. I don’t know exactly when but from what she told me when she went to check on it, it was motionless in one corner of the box, its lettuce untouched in the opposite end.

Even now, I still remember it trying so desperately to get to that bush, and away from us. I wonder what would have happened if we never found it: Would it have really died? Would it have eventually made it to the bush? Would it have mattered either way in the grand scheme of things? I think in the end, I will never know for we intervened or, more aptly, interrupted nature’s course. We know no more than the mouse in that respect.  

"I am a writer because writing is the thing I do best." -Flannery O'Connor

Awkward Assumptions and Mistaken Sexuality

There's been a lot of stuff in my walk through life that I've been mistaken for because of my looks and mannerisms. 

I've been thought to be Indian, Cuban, some sort of Pacific Islander, or something or other. But those don't usually come about as often as a certain one does. 

For more times than I can remember, I've been assumed to be gay...a lot of times.

The first time it happened was when I was at work helping a woman with finding some CDs.

About two hours into my shift at work, a woman approached me asking me for help looking for a CD. She had on a deep purple blouse accompanied by a black button-up cardigan. Her shoulder-length hair bobbed with anxious energy as her head craned from left to right in search of something. As per my salesman script, I asked what type she was looking for and she replied in hushed tones “I’m a little embarrassed to say this;” she then leaned in closer the, almost whispering “I’m looking for… Broadway musicals.”

I waved my hand as if to shoo away her concerns. “Oh no worries,” I said “I listen to everything from Wu-Tang to Dolly Parton, so you have nothing to worry about.” We then shared a little chortle as I led her to the music section.

As I was searching for her CD she said “Oh look.” To the right of us was a line-up of Dolly Parton’s albums. The first in line depicted Dolly in a tight Pepto-Bismol-pink colored dress that was so tight it looked painted on. She was reclining on what looked like a bale of hay. Her hair took up three quarters of the album art. Her bosoms handled the rest.

We both stared at this case for only a moment – no more than two seconds when this woman chimed in:

 “Look at this, you must have loved this one since you’re gay.”

“What?”

“You know, you’re gay, right?”

“Actually no, I’m… I’m not.”

“Oh…”

After this exchange a great silence fell. Her eyes held a plaintive wideness as if she was waiting for me to say “Just kidding, I am gay!” and she could breathe a sigh of relief. But it did not come. And then each muscle in her face went slack one fiber at a time. As if the realization of her folly was weighing down on her cheeks and crow’s feet. 

In that fleeting silence that lasted forever, I wonder what might have caused her to think it. Was it that I liked Dolly Parton? My black thick-rimmed glasses? My mannerisms? Or was it the lisp? Something had to be done to break the tension.

I slowly turned around and picked up the complete musical adaption of Phantom of the Opera from the rack and offered it to her with a guileless smile.

“Is this what you were looking for?”

She replied with a hasty jumble of syllables that I could not make out, and quickly made her exit 

Honestly, that was the first of many times that people thought I was gay and I can't truly grasp why. I suppose, it may come from me being a good dresser? I'm well spoken? I can dance with some resemblance of rhythm?

All these things are at best, the stereotypical facets of homosexuality, but if that is the components that people based their assumptions of me, does that mean - at least in a dichotomy sense - that straight men are a mass of poorly dressed neanderthals?

While it doesn't happen every day, it has occurred in a startlingly quick rate. 

I think it's a matter of the times. In older time periods, in the time of the dandy gentleman, I would be considered pretty friggin' manly with my sweet capes and hats. 

Thoughts and Musings: Aim for the Heart

The primary thing I took away with me through these readings is the facet of writing and reporting, at least the good ones, is that they all "aim for the heart" of the audience. As mentioned in my last post, if one is able to resonate with the audience on an emotional level, that story will sink deeper into their consciousness. For another theme repeated throughout the segments is that people remember what they feel a whole lot longer than what they knew. 

So, in order to achieve this, the first thing the reporter has to do when working on a project is attain an understanding of the two-levels of "what's the story about?"

As my professor Ted Gup would always drill into us, every article that's written has two meanings when you ask what the story is about: the first is the basic overview, the spark-notes of the piece. Meanwhile the second, deeper definition concerns itself with what the story truly represents, what moral or theme is it trying to convey? For example a story of a boy playing adopting a stray at first is just about a boy and his dog. The second level could be about the bonds between man and animal, or the dangers of overpopulation among pets, .etc

To get to this core meaning, you're gonna have to work at it through interviews and research.

When interviewing a subject, being a good listener is ESSENTIAL. The goal of any interview is to try and get the subject to be as comfortable and trusting around you as possible. To make them open up to you is the first and hardest step of any interview. Sometimes, the person is open and talkative, others are as tight as a clam shell. Regardless, if you can establish that intimacy, it will make the whole process a whole lot easier for yourself.

If the subject thinks you don't care, or believes you see them only as a font of information and not a human being, they can and will shut down before you. And at that point, trying to get anything out of them is like trying to ice skate uphill.

Getting to the second level of About, comes from good interviews. And you cannot have a good interview without good characters. The people you choose and the things they say that you include are the lifeblood of the piece. Any good story has good characters that bring the color to it. Finding the right subject and asking the right questions are a two-fold skill to have in the field. 

In terms of interviewing practices the central lesson is "less is more."

When talking to people, approach with an naive air. Ask a lot of questions to break through the jargon and get to the core of what they're saying. Ask basic open ended questions, it's up to the interviewee to fill in the silence. Make them work for it a bit. And when it comes to the tough questions, don't be afraid to ask them. Lastly, ask ONE question at a time. Keeping a tight and focused reign on your thoughts and questions leads to a simple path and less of a chance for your subject to dodge the question.

Current Events, Tribulations, and All that Jazz

After a long bout of delays, we finally got our subject for our 5 min video interview! He was pretty nervous at first but after talking with him for a bit, he warmed up considerably (though to be fair, I get nervous before every interview I do anyway). We got A-Roll done along with some B-Roll and we plan to do some more this coming Monday. Overall, a huge weight feels lifted from our heads now that we got this part all settled. The rest shall fall into place smoothly enough (hopefully anyway).

A Journalist's Progress: Vid Interview (part deux)

This past Friday marked a couple major advancements for our project. We finally nabbed our second interview session with our subject and even better he said "I'm used to the camera now." Which was true from his whole demeanor throughout the session. He was more natural and fluid, not as conscious of the machinery recording him and focused more on us. His quotes and the pics he provided were very deep and interesting to have.

It always amazes me how much a person can get used to people over such a short time period. Considering how shy and awkward I am at almost any given moment in my life, the act of talking to a stranger about some of the most personal stuff you can get into with someone is an act of insanity as far as I'm concerned.

I think it has to do with being able to watch the slow transformation from strangers to acquaintanceship -- that delicate and steady progression as we talk like normal people and not a good cop bad cop scenario or interrogation. Despite the initial horror I feel at every outset, being able to bear witness to that shift makes it worth it. Every single time.  

Be a dear and check me and many other fine writers out at Game Podunk! 

Coming Events: Otaku/Geek Extravaganza!

Next week is going to be a busy day for geeky, anime, and gaming enthusiast. In what can only be explained as proper alignment of the planets, both Pax East and Anime Boston --the biggest expos for gaming and anime on the east coast respectively. 

And yours truly will be attending them both. Expect Twitter commentary on the sights and sounds of both events as they unfold next weekend from April 6 to 8. 

(my resulting collapse from exhaustion may or not be documented).

follow me on twitter at @dimanched1

Thoughts and Observations: Kramer vs. Tompkins (vs. Kramer)

The readings from the last few sessions of Tompkins and Kramer really worked well together for me. 

Essentially in chapters 9-12 of Aim for the Heart the importance of B roll and variety of shots became the tantamount elements for video journalism and when doing interviews. Images can add so much more to a news report or feature piece than words alone. Plus, having different shots and angles gives the viewer a greater sense of the world you are introducing them to.

When doing the interview, try to display the items and activities that help describe who the subject is. This can also be provided in the B roll. The support video showing action and movement to liven up the piece. This B roll can be hobbies or activities, sights and sounds, or even just some busy work. Over all the sense of the person must be best portrayed throughout. 

This all segways rather handily into Kramer's section. The focus was primarily on how to set up the frame work for a story. Organization is key for any writing job - be it a hard news lede or grand magazine article. Setting up that rough skeleton is key to a good body of work. Secondly, don't think that your first draft is going to be gold from the start. There is always going to be something to tweak, something to tighten, something to add or take away.

The central thing to bear in mind so you don't become obsessive over it is that you're out there to make the best thing you can in the time you have. If you can honestly say that, then you've done a damned good job. 

Thoughts and observations: Slash and Burn

I didn't go into college with the aim of being a journalist. My major was English. I read all the classics: Shakespeare, Dickens, Sinclair. My writing was largely influenced by their huge sweeping prose. When I wrote, my hands flew all over the keys like a drug-addled bird. Word count? What is that? Run-on sentences? I'll put whatever I want for however long I want! I was mad with power. 

Then I started writing for my college's newspaper. I still remember the first article I sent to the editor. He took it and in about fifteen minutes, I got it back with a over half of the damned thing covered in red ink. Whole grafs wiped out. Sentences, cut off at the knees. 

But after the initial shock and gnashing of teeth, I realized something -- the article got a lot better.

The reading followed that same discipline to a greater degree. What was most fascinating, was the sheer amount of information she had. Mountains of notebooks, notes, interviews, research, and more transcripts I could barely fathom. Amassing such a trove of information is both inspiring and absolutely horrifying when you realize you actually have to make sense of all that stuff afterwards. 

A lesson in organization is a key method for any journalist. Not only does it help make things easier to sort, but also subconsciously sorts it all out in your head. Slowly but surely, it all comes down to the twofold "about." What is the story about? and what is the story really about. Anything you include, anything you write or fashion should be towards making that core of the story come to light. Anything that impedes that light you must ruthlessly cut away. Show no mercy to fluff or extra wordage. 

Your writing will be the better for it.