melissa: April 2004 Archives

where i was

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Ripped off Meg and Kristin:

Where were you when?

1. When John F. Kennedy was shot (22/11/1963)
Not alive.

2. When Mt. St. Helens blew (18/5/1980)
Maybe learning to hold my bottle on my own.

3. When the space shuttle Challenger exploded (28/1/1986)
In first grade. My teacher put their pictures on the wall. I remember more clearly the first anniversary, when Mrs. Nolan brought in a television so we could watch the ceremony, but that's probably because I was a ripe old seven years old and had a better memory.

4. When the 7.1 earthquake hit San Francisco (7/10/1989)
I don't remember. Didn't this happen during a ball game? That I remember.

5. When the Berlin Wall fell (7/11/1989)
I don't know where, but we talked about it a lot in school the next term. My teacher brought in a piece of it and I was not old enough at that point to realize what an amazing piece of material it was.

6. When the Gulf War began (16/1/1991)
I guess I was in middle school. The concept of war was still only in my textbooks, so until deaths began all I remember is George Bush sitting behind his desk on nighttime broadcasts, talking about things I didn't get. I think I was mad at him for interrupting my television time.

7. When OJ Simpson was chased in his White Bronco (17/6/1994)
It was near the end of the school year and my teacher was absent, so we nicked a random television from the hallway and plugged it in, and watched for all of the physics period. It was boring. I thought, and still think, that he did it.

8. When the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City was bombed (19/4/1995)
I don't remember exactly where I was...and as horrible as this was, it was still incomprehensible to me. People did that? It wasn't just a news reel? Someone...bombed a building? Like with the World Trade Center bombing in 1993...I knew it happened but didn't really want to believe it.

9. When Princess Di was killed (31/8/1997)
I had been at Georgetown for exactly one week, orientation was over, and had gone out on the town with four new friends to celebrate that very thing. We went to the swanky Occidental Grill in D.C. proper, got put in a corner because we were young and casually dressed, and giggled our way through our first taste of freedom. We saw a lot of people paying attention to something on the television but in the spirit of forgetting responsibilities before classes began, we ignored it. We went back to the Georgetown lawn and laid on the grass, and stared up at the stars above our new home. It was after midnight when we got back to the dorm and discovered what everyone was watching. It knocked our wind out and sharply grounded us. I don't talk to any of those four people anymore.

10. When Bush was first announced President (7/11/2000)
In the newsroom at Georgetown. I was reviewing a show that night and in intermission someone ran into the theater yelling "BUSH IS BACK!" - i.e. the Florida disaster had begun. After the show I went back to the newsroom to write my article; it wasn't due until Thursday but at the time I was helping to run the entertainment section and knew that if I did not get it done that night, it would hold everything else up. So like most nights in the last year of Georgetown, I arrived late at night to an empty newsroom and settled in for a long one. The television that I had to fight to bring into the newsroom (for the Subway Series in October) was still there, and a good thing. I've found this true upon entering real journalism as well - reporters like to be with each other in a newsroom when big news is happening, second only to being at the scene. So as the night got later and later, the newsroom filled up. By the time Peter Jennings was lamenting that his set was on fire - because there was nothing else to report and all the newscasters were sort of staring into space at that point - and by the time Tim Russert's wipe board became an item of national significance, there were at least fifteen of us, sitting around this little television, watching history and preparing to report on it as the youngest bunch of reporters in the nation's capital. It was a blast.

Two sports-reporter friends and I eventually went down to the Supreme Court protests just to say we were there, to see it; one of them, now a sports writer for the Washington Post, grabbed a marker and piece of oaktag from a smiling protestor and wrote "ABOLISH THE DH!" on one side and "LET THE PITCHER HIT!" on the other. It brought the ridiculousness of the entire situation down to what we thought was an excellently funny level. He went around spreading his message, and people cheered him on. He had a following by the time we left. There are pictures somewhere, I just can't find them.

11. When the 6.8 earthquake hit Nisqually, WA (28/2/2001)
Wow. I don't remember. Probably working my ass off in my second semester of senior year.

12. When terrorists destroyed the World Trade Center (11/9/2001)
When it started, I was sleeping, like most of the world. A frantic call from my mother, hysterical worry over my sister, and an overjoyed reunion with my father later, I sat down in front of the television to watch, horrified. Like most of the world.

13. When Columbia disintegrated during re-entry over Texas. (1/2/2003)
At Georgetown. I had gone back down to visit, and stayed on a futon in a friend's house. I woke up to the news.

Hm. Interesting.
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hot hot hot

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For the past six weeks: slogging through 30 years of history, interviewing an uncountable and unconscionable amount of people, writing an intensely detailed, incredibly complicated, yet clear (oh we dearly hope), series of articles on a cultural institution's pattern-like problems.

Today: Hanging out with the 13 hunks on the 2005 FDNY calendar.

Life can be so strange. (And at times...so, so, so good.)
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filed.

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Third and final story filed.

200 inches (roughly 8,000 words) later.

Words can't...just can't....
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ot

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Hours of overtime last week: 59
Hours of overtime so far this week: 32
Sleep last night: none
Sleep on the couch in the ladies' room: 1.5 hours.

I've now used Irish whiskey for mouthwash (a co-worker had it in a desk, this person shall remain nameless) and my finger for a toothbrush, and I'm in a co-workers sweatshirt and am so achy I can hardly stand. I actually just sent an intern out to get me coffee. I mean, she offered. But I'm that person now - that 'get me coffee' person. People are giving me random hugs and chocolate, a sure sign that I look like I'm at death's door.

Almost done. Giant project almost complete.
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surprise!

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All right, you people keep surprising me. At least three people this week have notified me that they read my web site. One of them I work with regularly, one of them I work with and didn't know it. It's part of the danger, I suppose, to put something up on the web that can be read by anyone that people will actually read it, and I know it's a compliment that they do.

But I want to know who you are. If I know you in any way - if we work together and you've never told me you read this, if we met on the street once six years ago, if we used to email all the time and have lost contact, if you're someone you think I hate, if you're someone you think I love, if you're anyone I might be surprised to find later reads my site, leave a comment or drop me an email. The suspense is killing me.

As is this gigantic mamma jamma of a story I need to go back to writing.
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asinine

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I've just come back from a welcome-home-yet-going-away party for a fellow reporter from my paper who now files from Iraq. He's back for a few weeks and then off again, and so a good party was in order.

He asked us not to vote for President Bush come November. As a member of the military he is not allowed to speak ill of his commander-in-chief, and he did not, but he made it clear that morale over there isn't just "We're weary and tired and want to go home," it's "We're weary and tired and want to go home, and we're not here for the right reasons, and we're mad about being here, and we're mad at the person who put us here." (None of that is a direct quote from him. Just my paraphrasing.)

And he also made it clear that this morale has had nothing to do with the revelations of the 9/11 commission hearings; this morale existed previously.

Just a thinking point. I'm not 100 percent anti-war but this got to me.

I must now catch an hour or so of sleep before I get up to write a truly asinine story. (Truly. They're doing a procession for Palm Sunday - a re-enactment of Jesus entering Jerusalem on a donkey. I badly want to start the story with "Jesus came to town on a big ass," but I have a feeling I would ruffle some palms.)
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This page is a archive of recent entries written by melissa in April 2004.

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