Short video I shot as the crowd gathered to watch MSNBC news film live at the EpiCentre in Charlotte, North Carolina, spontaneously begins to chant "Four More Years!" at the mere mention of Obama.
Friday, September 7, 2012
How Many More Years?
Short video I shot as the crowd gathered to watch MSNBC news film live at the EpiCentre in Charlotte, North Carolina, spontaneously begins to chant "Four More Years!" at the mere mention of Obama.
Friday QuoteDay
“Traveling is like flirting with life. It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you, but I have to go; this is my station.’”
— Lisa St. Aubin de Terán, English writer
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Weekly Flâneur: DNC Edition
My hometown of Charlotte, North Carolina, is hosting the Democratic National Convention this week. For those unfamiliar with the election process in the states, think of the DNC as a big party. The DNC unites delegates from every state to discuss and celebrate the party platform during the election year, and it's the place where United States President Barack Obama will officially accept the nomination to run for re-election on the Democratic ticket.
What better way to celebrate four more years of Obama than with a collection of pics? Big names are in town, and the city is a circus of politicos and protesters. Many places won't allow cameras without an anchorperson and a boom mic attached to them, so the following shots are exterior Charlotte street scenes, a live taping of a TV show, and general convention madness. Enjoy!
What better way to celebrate four more years of Obama than with a collection of pics? Big names are in town, and the city is a circus of politicos and protesters. Many places won't allow cameras without an anchorperson and a boom mic attached to them, so the following shots are exterior Charlotte street scenes, a live taping of a TV show, and general convention madness. Enjoy!
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| Welcome to the Queen City! |
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| High fives: The official logo of the DNC. |
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| We're turning left at Obama Ave. |
Tuesday, September 4, 2012
Adulthood
Back in June, Sarah at Rainbow Reverie asked the question, "In what ways are you still a kid/teenager/generally irresponsible?" in her post 20 Ways In which I Am Not A Grown-Up. Her list was in preparation for the big 3-0 (a monumental number that tends to throw all of us for a loop). The ship has sailed on my 30-year benchmark (hello, 31!) but I strangely find myself no closer to complete grown-up-hood at 31 than at any other age. Why? 10 Reasons:
1.) I am writing a list of reasons why I am not a grown-up when I should be working.
2.) I stop for pizza after exercising at the gym. Which I eat on the drive home. By myself.
3.) Potato chips and ice cream ARE YES THEY ARE an acceptable dinner.
4.) In a side-by-side comparison of the summer when I was 15 years old and the summer I am 31 years old, not much has changed:
Natty, age 15: Watched Sailor Moon episodes, ate tons of hot dogs, ran around the woods with friends, lived at the neighbor's pool, stayed up late, baby-sat for $5 an hour in preparation for my first real job come Autumn.
Natalie, age 31: Watched Sailor Moon episodes, ate tons of (veggie) hot dogs, ran around outdoors with friends, lived at the community pool, stayed up late, wrote for 10 cents a word in preparation for a grand real job (or dependable freelancing) come Autumn?
Differences: All the activities at 31 included copious amounts of alcohol (hence the running-around-outdoors-in-the-dark), and when it finally came time to hit the hay, naked time with my significant other. At 15, hitting the hay meant a bowl of late-night cereal and Nick at Nite, before entering detailed handwritten pages in my various diaries.
5.) Once -- one singular time -- there was a rabbit in our backyard. Now every time I look out the window to the backyard I expect there to be a rabbit hanging out and munching on the clover.
6.) I wanted Matt to catch said rabbit and carry it to the local creek where my turtle friends live and see if they would race.
7.) I have turtle friends. Big as dinner plates. They eat hot dog buns and noodle casserole. (And apparently the neighbors take turns feeding them.)
8.) No, really, I am procrastinating by writing this list instead of real work. We'll call it taking a break. This is not unprecedented behavior.
9.) On my office wall is a Xena: Warrior Princess calendar. It was my favorite Christmas gift last year from Matt. Proper grown-ups have calendars that feature stoic mountains with inspirational phrases. Or, you know, Doctor Who.
10.) It seems when one reaches a certain age, swimming pool activity means sitting waist-deep in the water with a beverage in hand, sunglasses firmly planted over eye make-up, hair completely dry and body never getting wet above the navel. I am not one to shun various fun beverages, but my pool activity involves goggles and headstands and wet, tangled hair.
In all other ways, I'm sure I am a respectable and productive member of society. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to gowork eat Twizzlers and play on YouTube. As adults do.
1.) I am writing a list of reasons why I am not a grown-up when I should be working.
2.) I stop for pizza after exercising at the gym. Which I eat on the drive home. By myself.
3.) Potato chips and ice cream ARE YES THEY ARE an acceptable dinner.
4.) In a side-by-side comparison of the summer when I was 15 years old and the summer I am 31 years old, not much has changed:
Natty, age 15: Watched Sailor Moon episodes, ate tons of hot dogs, ran around the woods with friends, lived at the neighbor's pool, stayed up late, baby-sat for $5 an hour in preparation for my first real job come Autumn.
Natalie, age 31: Watched Sailor Moon episodes, ate tons of (veggie) hot dogs, ran around outdoors with friends, lived at the community pool, stayed up late, wrote for 10 cents a word in preparation for a grand real job (or dependable freelancing) come Autumn?
Differences: All the activities at 31 included copious amounts of alcohol (hence the running-around-outdoors-in-the-dark), and when it finally came time to hit the hay, naked time with my significant other. At 15, hitting the hay meant a bowl of late-night cereal and Nick at Nite, before entering detailed handwritten pages in my various diaries.
5.) Once -- one singular time -- there was a rabbit in our backyard. Now every time I look out the window to the backyard I expect there to be a rabbit hanging out and munching on the clover.
6.) I wanted Matt to catch said rabbit and carry it to the local creek where my turtle friends live and see if they would race.
7.) I have turtle friends. Big as dinner plates. They eat hot dog buns and noodle casserole. (And apparently the neighbors take turns feeding them.)
8.) No, really, I am procrastinating by writing this list instead of real work. We'll call it taking a break. This is not unprecedented behavior.
9.) On my office wall is a Xena: Warrior Princess calendar. It was my favorite Christmas gift last year from Matt. Proper grown-ups have calendars that feature stoic mountains with inspirational phrases. Or, you know, Doctor Who.
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| There's still a few months left of 2012 if you want your own! (Image via Amazon.) |
10.) It seems when one reaches a certain age, swimming pool activity means sitting waist-deep in the water with a beverage in hand, sunglasses firmly planted over eye make-up, hair completely dry and body never getting wet above the navel. I am not one to shun various fun beverages, but my pool activity involves goggles and headstands and wet, tangled hair.
In all other ways, I'm sure I am a respectable and productive member of society. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go
Tags:
Walk With Me
Friday, August 31, 2012
Friday QuoteDay
“We are made out of stardust. The iron in the hemoglobin molecules in the blood in your right hand came from a star that blew up 8 billion years ago. The iron in your left hand came from another star. We are the laws of chemistry and physics as they have played out here on Earth and we are now learning that planets are as common as stars. Most stars, as it turns out now, will have planets.”
— Jill Tarter: A Scientist Searching For Alien Life
Happy Blue Moon, darlings!
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Badly Drawn Little Comics: Driving While Spring, Part II
Do y'all remember this little comic I made last year? Before my unannounced hiatus, I started a sequel! Even though it's no longer Spring (and practically no longer Summer!) it's time to share!
Weekly Flâneur: Windows of Sky
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| (Image of skyscraper with blue sky. Click to enlarge.) |
Look what's back this week!
All Hail the Queen City!
Hot time, summer in the city, Charlotte, N.C.
Tuesday, August 28, 2012
The Strangeness of Interviews
There's no solid day job in my life right now, but I make money freelancing for various publications. That means I'm a writer for hire, usually at 10 cents a word. The last jaunt was copywriting, but I prefer straight-up journalism over promo or ad writing any day.
Over the past few years I've interviewed dozens of people for articles and profiles -- in person, via email, on the phone. Every interview is a little bit different. I had an exciting one today, and tried to hide my excitement under a veneer of professionalism that came off a little stiff. I have never been on the other side as the interviewee and I am sometimes afraid it shows. (Job interviews are a different beast. There's a difference between, "Do I want to work with you, your personality, day-in and day-out?" and the "who, what, when, where, why and how" of a press interview.) Sure, sure, in Uni journo classes there were practice interviews at our desks, but that's not the same as sitting in the chair with a mic in your face, or being the person holding that mic. "Tell me everything about your life so I can write it down in my own words. Go!" Kinda horrifying, right?
Guarded interviewees will know when to state something is off-the-record or refuse to answer a question. That's cool. As long as you answer something. There have been a handful of interviews where it feels like I'm pulling teeth to get something beyond a yes or no answer. On the flip side, there have been a few interviews where I am suddenly and intensely bonded with the person I'm speaking to, social buddies meeting for booze and inside jokes, and oh, right, I have to write down what you're saying, sorry. Hang on, lemme turn on the tape player.
I use cassette tapes; a few years ago my MP3 voice recorder died during a phone interview with a local radio personality and I didn't realize it until the whole shebang was over. (Luckily, I had taken extensive notes.) Best to be an analog writer in a digital world. A button pops up to let me know when to flip the tape. Transcribing is a chore though; rewind the tape, stop, play, type, stop, rewind, repeat.
There are people I never want to interview. I think I would actually refuse a chance to interview David Bowie. Never meet your heroes. They become human and fail you in the end.
Maybe one day, I'll become something beyond just the interviewer. And maybe someone will sit me down with a prepared list of questions and an eager, pleased look in their eyes and stick a microphone under my nose. It may not be as horrifying as it seems. Let's hope.
Over the past few years I've interviewed dozens of people for articles and profiles -- in person, via email, on the phone. Every interview is a little bit different. I had an exciting one today, and tried to hide my excitement under a veneer of professionalism that came off a little stiff. I have never been on the other side as the interviewee and I am sometimes afraid it shows. (Job interviews are a different beast. There's a difference between, "Do I want to work with you, your personality, day-in and day-out?" and the "who, what, when, where, why and how" of a press interview.) Sure, sure, in Uni journo classes there were practice interviews at our desks, but that's not the same as sitting in the chair with a mic in your face, or being the person holding that mic. "Tell me everything about your life so I can write it down in my own words. Go!" Kinda horrifying, right?
Guarded interviewees will know when to state something is off-the-record or refuse to answer a question. That's cool. As long as you answer something. There have been a handful of interviews where it feels like I'm pulling teeth to get something beyond a yes or no answer. On the flip side, there have been a few interviews where I am suddenly and intensely bonded with the person I'm speaking to, social buddies meeting for booze and inside jokes, and oh, right, I have to write down what you're saying, sorry. Hang on, lemme turn on the tape player.
I use cassette tapes; a few years ago my MP3 voice recorder died during a phone interview with a local radio personality and I didn't realize it until the whole shebang was over. (Luckily, I had taken extensive notes.) Best to be an analog writer in a digital world. A button pops up to let me know when to flip the tape. Transcribing is a chore though; rewind the tape, stop, play, type, stop, rewind, repeat.
There are people I never want to interview. I think I would actually refuse a chance to interview David Bowie. Never meet your heroes. They become human and fail you in the end.
Maybe one day, I'll become something beyond just the interviewer. And maybe someone will sit me down with a prepared list of questions and an eager, pleased look in their eyes and stick a microphone under my nose. It may not be as horrifying as it seems. Let's hope.
Tags:
Journalism
Friday, August 24, 2012
Badly Drawn Little Comics: Jolly Green Giant
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| (Click to enlarge both images) |
How I spent my summer vacation: Doodles in pen.
Nikki is adorable and cannot be captured by my poor drawing skills. (Sorry, Niks!)
(Full text below the jump.)
Friday QuoteDay
“There is no need for you to leave the house. Stay at your table and listen. Don’t even listen, just wait. Don’t even wait, be completely quiet and alone. The world will offer itself to you to be unmasked; it can’t do otherwise; in raptures it will writhe before you.”
— Franz Kafka, The Blue Octavo Notebooks
Thursday, August 23, 2012
We Didn't Break Up
I promise, we didn't.
I am walking up a steep lane to a small cottage nestled in thick bramble. The wooden cottage door is swollen shut, but I must get inside, for in this small hidden cottage there is a pale white-washed room holding a stoic oak table. On this table there is a blue ceramic bowl holding a bright red apple. Inside the apple is a seed, and carved almost imperceptibly on this small apple seed is one word, "write."
First, I must make my way up the lane, through the door, into the room. Sit at the table, study the curves of the blue bowl. Weigh the apple in bare, sweaty palms. Decide to take a bite. It's not an altogether unpleasant task, just takes time.
It's taken a solid two months, but I found the seed. Hello, dear Flâneur in the City readers. I missed you. What's new?
I am walking up a steep lane to a small cottage nestled in thick bramble. The wooden cottage door is swollen shut, but I must get inside, for in this small hidden cottage there is a pale white-washed room holding a stoic oak table. On this table there is a blue ceramic bowl holding a bright red apple. Inside the apple is a seed, and carved almost imperceptibly on this small apple seed is one word, "write."
First, I must make my way up the lane, through the door, into the room. Sit at the table, study the curves of the blue bowl. Weigh the apple in bare, sweaty palms. Decide to take a bite. It's not an altogether unpleasant task, just takes time.
It's taken a solid two months, but I found the seed. Hello, dear Flâneur in the City readers. I missed you. What's new?
Friday, June 8, 2012
Friday QuoteDay
“Everyone must leave something behind when he dies, my grandfather said. A child or a book or a painting or a house or a wall built or a pair of shoes made. Or a garden planted. Something your hand touched some way so your soul has somewhere to go when you die, and when people look at that tree or that flower you planted, you’re there.”
— Ray Bradbury, Fahrenheit 451. American writer, who passed away June 5, 2012.
Spaced Out
Are we ... are we all at screenings watching Prometheus? We're all doing that, right?Cause, Noomi "Cheekbones-to-the-Heavens" Rapace may make bad choices in boyfriends -- DudeBro Charlie (Logan Marshall-Green), an anthropologist/geologist/scientist who can't be bothered to walk alllll the way to a cave to look at some stupid cavemen drawings, but also thinks it's totally cool to take his damn helmet off on a foreign planet -- but excellent and gut-wrenching choices when it comes to fighting aliens. Who may be ancient.
And Charlize Theron, whom I'm writing a check to as we speak for all my monies ever, is HQIC (second week in a row) on a ship seeking answers that we may never need.
Can't say much else, because this one is spoiler-full from the first shot in, but the comments are open for thoughts.
Edited to add: Check out Matt Brunson's concise and informative spoiler-free-ish review HERE.
This Picture...
Confuses me. Sexually.
Because the face? The face says, "I am Tom Cruise, jumping on Oprah's couch, because I'm freaking crazypants."
But the body? The body says, "Let's take off our pants, jump on Oprah's couch, and I will freak you like crazy."
Stop it, Tommy-boy. Just stop.
Because the face? The face says, "I am Tom Cruise, jumping on Oprah's couch, because I'm freaking crazypants."
But the body? The body says, "Let's take off our pants, jump on Oprah's couch, and I will freak you like crazy."
Stop it, Tommy-boy. Just stop.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Weekly Flâneur: No Bull
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| It's not easy being green. Image of a frog in water. Click to enlarge. |
If one has already found their beloved prince or princess, would kissing a frog be the means to a cushy job with a solid 401K plan? Because that's the happy ending I'm searching for, minus the warts.
Frog in the sun. Charlotte, N.C., May, 2012
Tags:
Weekly Flâneur
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Badly Drawn Little Comics: Wild Saturday Night
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| Click to enlarge. |
May this be a lesson to you all, kids. Don't drink and draw. Your beer bottles will come out all weird.
Saturday night with my husband, Matt. Wild times for nerds in love! Complete text for this badly drawn little comic below the jump.
Friday, June 1, 2012
Friday QuoteDay
“I love writing, but hate starting. The page is awfully white and it says, 'You may have fooled some of the people some of the time but those days are over, Giftless. I'm not your agent and I'm not your mommy: I'm a white piece of paper. You wanna dance with me?' and I really, really don't. I'll go peaceable-like.”
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