Archive for the ‘stream of consciousness’ Category
An Ode to John and My Supreme Court Peeps
I took a class last semester with 15 freshmen and taught by NYU President John Sexton. We had a little “class dinner reunion” tonight at the “presidential penthouse” (which, um, is sick), and afterwards, John asked me to make a few “closing remarks” about the class. I kept it brief, but then I thought about it on the walk home, and ended up with 1,300 words. Heh.
I first met John Sexton when I was but a wee freshman staff reporter for NYU’s student newspaper.
I had been assigned the “university senate beat,” presumably because I was the only rookie without class when the senate convened from 2-4 p.m. on the first Thursday of each month, and while Sexton chaired these meetings, I didn’t actually meet him until November.
My other beat (yes, I had two!) was higher education, and in September, Margaret Spellings (the then-Secretary of the U.S. Department of Education) had published a report proposing a series of initiatives to “reform” American higher ed.
Sexton had vaguely criticized the so-called Spellings Report in October, and I had so impressed the paper’s editor by then that when she decided to arrange a sit-down interview about Sexton’s (and NYU’s) “reaction” to the Report, she handpicked me to do it.
“I told Sexton today that you’re coming, too, and now my plan is to sit back and smile and let you interview him,” she said.
Sarah had come to the first senate meeting with me to “show me the ropes;” I remember she would point out who was who among the school’s administrators, and we would write little jokes and comments to each other about the funny (and frequently ridiculous) things people said. Someone, maybe Sexton himself, made some ridiculous remark about NYU as a “gas giant” of American universities, so I drew a picture of Jupiter in the margins of my notebook.
“You take good notes,” she scribbled. More »
Movies Are Like an Expensive Form of Therapy for Him
Tim Burton has long been one of my favorite filmmakers. I’ve always been drawn to his stylized, gothic aesthetic, macabre sense of humor, and his sort of twisted exploration of his characters’ psychology.
So, naturally, I pretty much had a minor heart attack when I read about the Museum of Modern Art’s new “Tim Burton” exhibit.
From now through late April, the MoMA will be celebrating Burton’s vision through a retrospective gallery exhibition of his life and career.
The museum will, of course, host several screenings of his entire filmography, but its film department has also collected a very impressive display of 700+ photos, props, puppets, drawings, paintings, sketches, and sculptures from throughout Burton’s life.
Burton himself was even on-hand a couple of weeks ago for lectures and book signings (and, of course, an extravagant museum party) to celebrate the opening.
So this Friday, I — ever the devoted Burtonite — finally made my way to Midtown to check it all out first-hand.
How I Finally Learned Something From Emily Gould
For a long time, I detested Emily Gould’s New York Times Magazine story, “Exposed”. I thought it was an overlong, self-indulgent, too insidery, navel-gazing piece of crap that was completely inappropriate for the Times.
But since I started interning at Gawker (which I’d read throughout Emily’s tenure as its editor), I’ve developed a kind of meta-obsession with Gawker itself. So I went on a little nostalgia kick and started reading old posts, studying the former editors’ work, and voyeuristically devouring the sordid drama of Nick Denton’s twisted little media/sociology experiment. Especially circa 2007. Those kids were nuts.
At the same time, I was preparing to turn this blog into more than just a portfolio of my work. I was ready to move beyond the banalities of the LiveJournal I’d kept in high school (Ha!) and commit myself to some serious personal blogging. (Double ha!)
So as I re-read Emily’s piece, I started to view her story in a different light. A more forgiving light. And somehow, it began to resonate with me. I had begun appreciate it on some small level, for reasons I did not yet fully know.
How to Not Be a Dick in 3 Easy Steps!
I am, for the most part, done with this subject. But in addition to the professional “consequences,” my little experiment in confessional-style Internet commentary had some (unexpected) personal ramifications, too. In other words, there are certain people (former friends, I suppose?) at WSN who take things too personally. This is mildly relevant, but only as setup. So keep it in mind, or something.
Anyway, if you happened to be in the second floor computer lounge of NYU’s Kimmel Center this afternoon, you may have witnessed the (pretty common) scene of me, cursing loudly at the expense of my friend’s certain embarrassment. At least two students noticed: a pair of dark-haired girls in NYU sweatshirts, giggling awkwardly at each other over their laptops and trying not to stare.
Such instances are not unordinary with me. You might think it’s a bad, or even rude, habit to so eagerly (and vocally) call people out on their bullshit. And you’re probably right, but that’s another issue altogether. The point is: I do this a lot, and often to the chagrin of whichever unlucky friends are with me at the time.
But it is unusual for the humiliated bystander to become my victim. That’s what happened today.
WSN, The Epilogue
So, I was “fired” from WSN today.
On Saturday, I wrote a post describing my observations about WSN, NYU Local, and a few of the issues I felt these student media outlets (like many of their grown-up counterparts) are grappling with.
Yesterday, I followed up with a post to make some clarifications and, somewhat pre-emptively, defend myself from the guillotine blade I was wholly expecting to drop.
You see, WSN staff members are forbidden from publicly criticizing the paper. As I’d said, this policy isn’t actually on the books anywhere, but it’s pretty commonly understood. New writers who are unaware of it often get away with just a slap on the wrist, but I was fully aware of this “rule” and, knowingly, ignored it. (To be honest, I didn’t expect my piece to either attract the attention or spark the controversy it did, but that’s sort of irrelevant.)
I should point out that, at least for the purposes of this post, I’m not taking a position on that rule. I recognize its purpose and merits, and, likewise, its flaws. But that isn’t my call, it is what it is.
Anyway, yesterday I received an e-mail from WSN’s Editor-in-Chief, Rachel Smith, requesting a meeting with me to discuss the content of my posts. Today, she and I met to discuss my “motivation” for writing such a “negative” — but, more importantly, public — critique of WSN. And, because I was still considered an “active” staff member, violating WSN’s “don’t talk about WSN” rule meant I could no longer report or write on behalf of the newspaper.
