Life is an empty shell

"You're a good journalist; you're just a bad person."
-Breanne

Today I attended the c-ticket hearings in Evanston Civic Center, where various NU students had to pay fines for underage drinking, using fake IDs or other offences. It was for a story that will run in The Daily tomorrow. I used the students' names in my article. This officially means I am a hypocrite. This weekend I likewise engaged in underage drinking but since I was not at a loud party, I was not caught by the police. For the students who were cited, it was simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And then, to add insult to financial injury, they had their hearing the day I was there to observe it. None of them did anything I wouldn't do (except using a fake ID to purchase alcohol); I feel so sorry for them that they now have to go through the humiliation of having their names printed. What is the point of my story anyway? Yes, it's interesting and a little funny, but only at the expense of other people. I will get nasty e-mails and feel horrible about myself. But I've written the story and it must go forward. It will be too much trouble taking it out.

I felt so great writing it because it was so interesting and exciting, but now I feel like crap. As journalists, we have access to so much information and we must use our own discretion to decide what is newsworthy.

So the police gave me copies of the citations. Does that necessarily mean I need to follow up on them and attend the hearings? When is it newsworthy and when is it just gossip? I suppose when I apply for a reporting job at The National Enquirer, I can use this story as a clip.

I have really pushed the envelope with this blog. I've had to remove the link to this site from my facebook entry for fear the students quoted in the article will go here and discover me for the idiot that I am. I am such a weakling.

After further consideration, I have decided to remove the photo posted in the previous entry from my facebook profile. I had failed to realize that I have a pending friend request with Michelle Weldon. I have no idea why I friended her, but I wonder what she thought if and when she saw the picture. Too bad facebook makes it very difficult for you to find out if someone rejected your friend request.

I got to edit Elizabeth's story about the El. She rode the Haunted El train (for kids) yesterday as well as the late El train with all the adults in costumes going to Halloween parties. The funny thing is I just threw out this article possibility at a city desk meeting last week when I could not come up with any story ideas. I was just pulling shit out of my ass for lack of anything better to say, but it became this really awesome story. For today's meeting, I showed up hungry and about 12 minutes late. Once again, I pulled a story idea out of my ass, this time about transit security. Breanne seemed to nod approvingly, suggesting it was a good idea. Little did she know I just threw it out on the spot. That's it, I'm not preparing for anything anymore - tests, travel, interviews, etc. I think I've made it quiet clear that I can do anything impromptu. I am the master of my domain.

I went to the football game last night. NU lost to a team that was ranked below us. I tried to start a chant "OVER-RATED" but it didn't pick up. I guess you don't do that to your own school. But I had a good time overall - I met up with Keith and Brian, who were my neighbors in Hinman-Lincoln freshman year. I hadn't seen either of them since Dillo Day, which was five months ago. I think I talked way too much, despite (or in spite of) the fact that I was sober at the game, and I could see they were at least thankful they didn't have to live with me anymore. I know I annoyed them quite a bit when we were freshmen, and I readily admitted that hanging out with them at the game was somewhat socially awkward. They invited me to their apartment on Ridge Avenue which looks like a tenement from the alley, like all the others, but was really neat on the inside with new wood cabinets and dishwasher. I mean it was still pretty messy as the apartments of college-age people usually are, but all nice and renovated. I had half a beer, then went downstairs to visit Tim, my roommate from freshman year. In September I ran into him near Kellogg and he invited me to his place - I guess it took me a month to accept his offer. Eric was getting ready for the Big Ten Media Day, which kicked off early today at the O'Hare Marriott. He went to sleep, then Brian came downstairs with that beer that I was drinking and I drank the half that was left. He made a comment about how he wouldn't let me get away with not finishing a beer. I guess either way something would be wasted - either me or the beer. It was some sort of German beer, Warstein I think it might have been called, so it was all very nice and proper. We had some fun with my camera (see photo above), they made homoerotic statements and gestures, I drank a Mexican beer, then they walked me to a block of my dorm. It was an evening full of nostalgia, all except the alcohol, because we didn't drink together freshman year except that one time I took Brian and Coh to a Russian party and we all became quite content.

That picture is now my facebook photo. I have noticed many facebook photos that have underage drinking in them, and at least one that has a firearm. I wonder if I'm the first to incorporate both elements into my photo. Probably not. What I should have done is also gotten a cigarette into the picture - I would have had the ATF on my ass (although they've also added explosives to their name and I don't have ready access to that). I should also make it clear that's not a handgun - rather it shoots very little balls that sting but don't puncture.

I've been doing a lot of facebooking during the last week. I even friended this girl that I had a crush on in eighth grade. I remember it as if it was just a few years ago. In fact, it was May 1999 in Québec. We had our French Club class trip to the part of Canada that speaks a bastardized version of Parisian. I was hanging out with her and thinking I really should let her know how I feel about her (FYI... this was before I really got into AIM...for an in-depth account of how I dealt with a similar situation last month, please see this entry here). We went into a restaurant, and I told her, "[name redacted], I have a crush on you." My heart was racing of course, but she thought it was a joke, and told the other people who were with us, "Guys, what did you make him do?" She might have thought my friends gave me money to say that to her. In any case, she rejected me, and later in the day said something along the likes of, "I'd rather be your friend than your girlfriend." It must have been a friendly way of saying "hell no you ugly pimple-faced dork loser who speaks with an accent and looks at me funny in homeroom." Which makes me wonder why I'm even typing this here since she confirmed me on facebook and can now access this site via my profile. But whatever, we've both moved on from that incident and now I just think of it as a silly fragment of my past. Never mind it left me scarred and afraid of women ever since. That's not her fault, just mine.

If the Homecoming Parade proves anything, it's that I can't take photos in the dark. Courtesy of Google's Picasa, here are highlights of this year's extravaganza, as recorded at Sheridan Rd & Chicago Ave:

So last night I went on my first ride-along with the Evanston Police Dept. I really wanted to go with the NU Party Car, in which there is both an EPD officer and a University Police officer and they go around town and crack down on college parties. But obviously, since there are two officers in that car, I would have to sit in the back, and yesterday they were using a cage car, which means it would be very difficult for me to communicate with them and I would have no legroom. And, once they got a 'customer', there would no longer be any place for me. So they put me with a downtown patrol officer.
The following conversation occurred at the EPD station before I left on my ride-along.

Woman at the information desk: So you're going to be the po-po tonight?
Me: That's right.
Woman: You're from Northwestern?
Me: Yeah
Woman: What year are you?
Me: I'm a junior.
Woman: A junior? Looking at you, I would have thought you were a sophomore or junior in high school. You are telling the truth, right?
Me: Am I telling the truth?
Woman: Yeah.
Me: You think I'm impersonating a college student just so I can go on a ride-along with the police?
Woman: Yeah.
Me: That I have some secret party somewhere that I want to steer the police away from?
Woman: So what are you studying?
Me: Journalism and economics.
Woman: So we'll be reading your column or seeing you broadcast on your talk show in 2055?
Me: I hope it happens before I'm 70 years old.

Cool image of Moscow:

http://skyscraperpage.com/gallery/showphoto.php?photo=60204&papass=&sort=1

Ah, Heavenston. Today I went to one of the top floors of Bank One (tallest building in town) to take pictures of this dysfunctional city.

And we had another workshop with The Daily's editor-in-chief. Here are some random things the EIC said:

"When I first visited Northwestern, they showed me the nanofabrication center. I thought nano = small and fabric = clothes. Are they running a sweatshop in there?"

"My last name is Samuels so my first year I got on a lot of Jewish listservs."

On finding sources for stories: "It's like herbal tea or a bubble bath."

"The only sport I really know is figure skating."

On how he reacts to journalists who take out their notebooks while they're interviewing him: "I see your pad's out so I'm going to start using the word metaphor."

"I did a story about women who bleed heavily during menstruation. I said (to a source), 'How many tampons do you use in a month?' She looked at me and said about 45. No hesitation whatsoever."