I am confused when it comes to the conflict between journalists and public relations specialists. I understand that journalists try to remain neutral and PR reps most generally are working for a corporation and therefore only promote one-sided news releases. But, in talking with PR specialists and reporters, they both tend to bad mouth the other.
Why can't they each respect that they have different jobs and different objectives?
It also confuses me that there is negative stigma associated with the media, yet public relations people prefer newspaper experience.
Can anyone enlighten me?
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Dead Week
After reading through some of my classmates blogs, I ran across Megan's blog on "dead week" and I completely agree. It seems as though everyone stresses about finals, but I always have the most to do/turn in during dead week, which is supposed to be a break before finals (so we can study.. or whatever).
This semester had the most hectic dead week I could've imagined. This semester I am taking 22 credit hours, which equals out to I believe eight classes aka eight final projects/tests/papers. Talk about stress. On top of it all, I am terrible with time management. I always think I have more time than I actually do, which ends up kicking me in the butt, but (that was akward butt, but) I never seem to learn my lesson.
This semester my class load is as follows:
JMC425-Blogging/Commentary
JMC300-Website Design
JMC409-Public Relations Strategy (WI)
JMC350-Antelope News Staff
JMC336-Radio Workshop
ENG460-Women's Literature: Women and Revenge
ENG426-Adolescent Literature
CSIS108-Computers in Society
During dead week I had a short paper due for ENG460, a 8-10 pg research paper for ENG426, final website and presentation for JMC300, video commentary for JMC425, and two final projects for CSIS108. In addition to these things, I spent my entire Tuesday night working on my ENG460 research paper because I wrote down in my agenda the wrong date. Basically I was working on a research paper that isn't due for another week when I could have been working on the other assignments that are actually due!
So obviously I was already frustrated with myself. Then I tried to do the video commentary with my webcam on my HP and it turns out I don't have a software that allows video recording or even taking pictures. I tried to do the quick capture on YouTube, but YouTube was unable to pick up my webcam. So I recorded it four different times to my roommate's computer only to find out that the software he had wouldn't allow me to save it elsewhere or post it to YouTube. Finally, I settled with recording it on my digital camera, hence the poor quality, awkward view and bad lighting. After recording three or four times on my camera, I decided enough was enough and tried to upload it to YouTube via the SD memory card. Of course it wouldn't upload. So at about 12:30a.m. Thursday morning I gave up with the video and decided I needed to start my 8-10 page research paper that was due at 4 p.m. that day. Needless to say, everything worked out. I finished everything and am so relieved. I am even happy with the outcome of my research paper!
That is my rant about dead week. But, now it is over and only one week left, then two summer classes and behold! graduation. Thank the Lord!
This semester had the most hectic dead week I could've imagined. This semester I am taking 22 credit hours, which equals out to I believe eight classes aka eight final projects/tests/papers. Talk about stress. On top of it all, I am terrible with time management. I always think I have more time than I actually do, which ends up kicking me in the butt, but (that was akward butt, but) I never seem to learn my lesson.
This semester my class load is as follows:
JMC425-Blogging/Commentary
JMC300-Website Design
JMC409-Public Relations Strategy (WI)
JMC350-Antelope News Staff
JMC336-Radio Workshop
ENG460-Women's Literature: Women and Revenge
ENG426-Adolescent Literature
CSIS108-Computers in Society
During dead week I had a short paper due for ENG460, a 8-10 pg research paper for ENG426, final website and presentation for JMC300, video commentary for JMC425, and two final projects for CSIS108. In addition to these things, I spent my entire Tuesday night working on my ENG460 research paper because I wrote down in my agenda the wrong date. Basically I was working on a research paper that isn't due for another week when I could have been working on the other assignments that are actually due!
So obviously I was already frustrated with myself. Then I tried to do the video commentary with my webcam on my HP and it turns out I don't have a software that allows video recording or even taking pictures. I tried to do the quick capture on YouTube, but YouTube was unable to pick up my webcam. So I recorded it four different times to my roommate's computer only to find out that the software he had wouldn't allow me to save it elsewhere or post it to YouTube. Finally, I settled with recording it on my digital camera, hence the poor quality, awkward view and bad lighting. After recording three or four times on my camera, I decided enough was enough and tried to upload it to YouTube via the SD memory card. Of course it wouldn't upload. So at about 12:30a.m. Thursday morning I gave up with the video and decided I needed to start my 8-10 page research paper that was due at 4 p.m. that day. Needless to say, everything worked out. I finished everything and am so relieved. I am even happy with the outcome of my research paper!
That is my rant about dead week. But, now it is over and only one week left, then two summer classes and behold! graduation. Thank the Lord!
Saturday, April 25, 2009
After Kevin Sites came to speak to our class, I have been thinking a lot about what he said. Which was something along the lines of before going directly into the job market, take a year off and travel. I would love to do this! The problem I'm running into is money. But, I think I may have found an alternative...the Peace Corps.
I love volunteering and in high school I went on several mission trips for my church. These generally included working with a group of people in a low income neighborhood, to help rebuild, paint, add on to or clean their houses for a week. I know you must be thinking, wow that is only a week. No way can you do this for two years. But, its a great way to experience a different culture and help people.
This is just something I am throwing around right now, so if you know anything about the Peace Corps that I should probably know... let me know!
I love volunteering and in high school I went on several mission trips for my church. These generally included working with a group of people in a low income neighborhood, to help rebuild, paint, add on to or clean their houses for a week. I know you must be thinking, wow that is only a week. No way can you do this for two years. But, its a great way to experience a different culture and help people.
This is just something I am throwing around right now, so if you know anything about the Peace Corps that I should probably know... let me know!
Journalist on hunger strike
A U.S. journalist working in Iran was jailed for espionage. Well, initially the Iranian officials claim that she was taken in for buying a bottle of wine, but, later the Foreign Ministry said she has been detained for reporting without proper credentials. Apparently the court process was quick. It was a closed trial completed within one day. Her lawyer has not been allowed to see her in jail. In a desperate attempt to be freed, Roxana Saberi, 31, has decided to go on a hunger strike until she is released.
Saberi has been living in Iran since 2003. Her press credentials were revoked by Iranian authorities in 2006. The story does not tell why her credentials were taken away. She continued working as a reporter and that is the basis of their espionage theory. I'm just wondering why after three years she hasn't gotten her press credentials back. She was sentenced to eight years!
Oddly enough, I would still love to report as a journalist in other countries.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Final draft of Column 3
My sister talks to me about everything. She is my best friend, counselor and protector. My sister is everything to me. My sister has been under enemy fire and gone to sleep with constant blasts from nearby mortars shaking her bunk.
She is generally a well spoken person, but when Iraq becomes the topic of conversation, she experiences a loss for words. My sister’s memories from her first deployment to Iraq are mostly in images, thoughts and fragments.
The morning of her first convoy from Kuwait to Baghdad, Iraq, Private First Class Noel Purdie said she felt like she was suffocating when she put on her uniform. She was wearing the typical Army combat uniform: T-shirt, pants, boots, improved body armor suit, groin protector, ear plugs. She had 11 pounds of ammo strapped to her vest, a 30 pound medical aid bag secured on her back, a personal bag that carried her sleeping bag and extra uniforms in hand and her M-16 rifle slung across her shoulder. The extra 40 pounds of weight and layered uniform increase the temperature from 80 to about 90 degrees.
She didn’t feel the intensity of the heat until she climbed into the backseat of the HUMVEE, which happened to have a temperamental air conditioner. The heat came in waves and occasionally sweat dripped off her face and down her neck. She sat with her rifle between her legs, muzzle down thinking “I can’t believe this is real. I miss my family. I want to go home. I want to stay alive. I’m scared. It’ll be ok, it’ll be ok. Nothing is going to happen.” She tried to prepare herself for the three day drive, eight to ten hours a day, stopping only to refuel and sleep. They were driving slow, scanning the land for improved explosive devices (IEDs).
She was nervous and scared. She was thinking about the training that led her here. She had only been in the Army for a year. She was trying to remember all of the stories other soldiers told her about IEDs, enemy fire and Iraqis ambushing convoys—especially between Kuwait and Baghdad.
On the second day her truck finally crossed the border into Iraq. “The TV was right. I can’t believe people live like this.” Children were on both sides of the street. She said they looked like they haven’t bathed in a few days, they were barefoot, their clothes were ragged and they were skinny—bony, their elbows and knees were prominent. She thinks, “I want to hug them and tell them it will be ok.” She noticed one room shacks along the road. They were made out of wood, tires, soda cans. “I could never live like that. I wouldn’t want to live if I had to live like that.”All she could smell was oil. “It’s so dirty. Trash everywhere.” The kids run after the truck shouting “Chocolate, chocolate!”
She replayed everything she had been trained. “Seeing those kids makes my heart break. But, I have to protect myself. If I had to, could I really shoot this child? If they do something, could I seriously stick my head out this window and fire at them? If my life is in danger, I’ll do anything. Me and my soldiers have to make it home.”
The third day, her convoy stopped. The road was coded black—something dangerous was found within the last 24 hours. “All I can hear is gun fire. I don’t know where it is coming from, who it is or what’s going on.” The road cleared two hours later and after a couple hours of driving, her convoy made it into Baghdad.
We set a spot for her at the dinner table. She was settling into her new barracks in Baghdad. It was Christmas Eve. She is my best friend, counselor and protector. My sister is everything to me. But, she can no longer talk to me about everything. I don’t know any of her stories about missions, being under enemy fire or encountering an IED. I don’t know what she went through or what she is still probably going through. Sometimes I feel like my sister never came back from Iraq.
She is generally a well spoken person, but when Iraq becomes the topic of conversation, she experiences a loss for words. My sister’s memories from her first deployment to Iraq are mostly in images, thoughts and fragments.
The morning of her first convoy from Kuwait to Baghdad, Iraq, Private First Class Noel Purdie said she felt like she was suffocating when she put on her uniform. She was wearing the typical Army combat uniform: T-shirt, pants, boots, improved body armor suit, groin protector, ear plugs. She had 11 pounds of ammo strapped to her vest, a 30 pound medical aid bag secured on her back, a personal bag that carried her sleeping bag and extra uniforms in hand and her M-16 rifle slung across her shoulder. The extra 40 pounds of weight and layered uniform increase the temperature from 80 to about 90 degrees.
She didn’t feel the intensity of the heat until she climbed into the backseat of the HUMVEE, which happened to have a temperamental air conditioner. The heat came in waves and occasionally sweat dripped off her face and down her neck. She sat with her rifle between her legs, muzzle down thinking “I can’t believe this is real. I miss my family. I want to go home. I want to stay alive. I’m scared. It’ll be ok, it’ll be ok. Nothing is going to happen.” She tried to prepare herself for the three day drive, eight to ten hours a day, stopping only to refuel and sleep. They were driving slow, scanning the land for improved explosive devices (IEDs).
She was nervous and scared. She was thinking about the training that led her here. She had only been in the Army for a year. She was trying to remember all of the stories other soldiers told her about IEDs, enemy fire and Iraqis ambushing convoys—especially between Kuwait and Baghdad.
On the second day her truck finally crossed the border into Iraq. “The TV was right. I can’t believe people live like this.” Children were on both sides of the street. She said they looked like they haven’t bathed in a few days, they were barefoot, their clothes were ragged and they were skinny—bony, their elbows and knees were prominent. She thinks, “I want to hug them and tell them it will be ok.” She noticed one room shacks along the road. They were made out of wood, tires, soda cans. “I could never live like that. I wouldn’t want to live if I had to live like that.”All she could smell was oil. “It’s so dirty. Trash everywhere.” The kids run after the truck shouting “Chocolate, chocolate!”
She replayed everything she had been trained. “Seeing those kids makes my heart break. But, I have to protect myself. If I had to, could I really shoot this child? If they do something, could I seriously stick my head out this window and fire at them? If my life is in danger, I’ll do anything. Me and my soldiers have to make it home.”
The third day, her convoy stopped. The road was coded black—something dangerous was found within the last 24 hours. “All I can hear is gun fire. I don’t know where it is coming from, who it is or what’s going on.” The road cleared two hours later and after a couple hours of driving, her convoy made it into Baghdad.
We set a spot for her at the dinner table. She was settling into her new barracks in Baghdad. It was Christmas Eve. She is my best friend, counselor and protector. My sister is everything to me. But, she can no longer talk to me about everything. I don’t know any of her stories about missions, being under enemy fire or encountering an IED. I don’t know what she went through or what she is still probably going through. Sometimes I feel like my sister never came back from Iraq.
first draft of column 3
Tara Purdie
JMC425
Column 3
April 24, 2009
My sister talks to me about everything. She is my best friend, she is my counselor, she is my protector. My sister is everything to me. My sister has been under enemy fire and gone to sleep with constant blasts from nearby mortars shaking her bunk. My sister has been in the Army for almost five years. She received several awards such as “The Army Commendation Medal”, and after several promotions is now known by fellow soldiers as Sergeant Promotable Noel Hunter.
She is generally a well spoken person, but when Iraq becomes the topic of conversation, she experiences a loss for words. My sister’s memories from her first deployment to Iraq are mostly in images, thoughts and fragments.
The morning of her first convoy from Kuwait to Baghdad, Iraq, Private First Class Noel Purdie said she felt like she was suffocating when she put on her uniform, which was made from a rough material that constantly scratched against her skin. She was wearing the typical Army combat uniform: T-shirt, pants, boots, gloves, improved body armor suit, groin protector, ballistic sunglasses, ear plugs. She had 11 pounds of ammo strapped to her vest, a 30 pound medical aid bag secured on her back, a personal bag that carried her sleeping bag and extra uniforms in hand and her M-16 rifle slung across her shoulder. The extra 40 pounds of weight and layered uniform increase the temperature from 80 to about 90 degrees.
She didn’t feel the intensity of the heat until she climbed into the backseat of the HUMVEE, which happened to have a temperamental air conditioner. The heat came in waves and occasionally sweat dripped off her face and down her neck. She sat with her rifle between her legs, muzzle down thinking “I can’t believe this is real. I miss my family. I want to go home. I want to stay alive. I’m scared. It’ll be ok, it’ll be ok. Nothing is going to happen.” She sat with her rifle between her legs trying to prepare herself for the three day drive, eight to ten hours a day, only stopping to refuel and sleep. They were driving slow, scanning the land for improved explosive devices (IEDs), that could be hidden in boxes, tires or buried in the sand.
She was nervous and scared, really scared. She was thinking about the training that led her to this point. She had only been in the Army for a year. She was trying to remember all of the stories other soldiers told her about IEDs, smalls arms fire and Iraqis ambushing convoys—especially between Kuwait and Baghdad.
On the second day her truck finally crossed the border into Iraq. “The TV was right. I can’t believe people live like this.” Children were on both sides of the street. She said they looked like they haven’t bathed in a few days, they were barefoot, their clothes were ragged and they were really skinny—bony, their elbows and knees were prominent. She thinks, “I want to hug them and tell them it will be ok.” She noticed one room shacks along the road. They were made out of wood, tires, soda cans. “I could never live like that. I wouldn’t want to live if I had to live like that.”All she could smell was oil. “It’s so dirty. Trash everywhere.” The kids run after the truck shouting “Chocolate, chocolate!”
She said when she was driving down the road she replayed everything she had been taught and trained. “Seeing those kids like that makes my heart break. But, I have to protect myself. If I had to, could I really shoot this child? What if they do something, could I seriously stick my head out this window and fire at them? If my life is in danger, I’ll do anything. I have to make it home. My soldiers have to make it home.”
The third day, her HUMVEE had to stop. The road was coded black—something dangerous had happened or was found within the last 24 hours. “All I can hear is gun fire. I don’t know where it is coming from, who it was or what’s going on.” The road was cleared two hours later and after a couple hours of driving her convoy made it into Baghdad.
While my family was setting a spot for her at the dinner table, she was settling into her new barracks in Baghdad. It was Christmas Eve. She is my best friend, she is my counselor, she is my protector. My sister is everything to me. But, she can no longer talk to me about everything. I don’t know any of her stories about missions, being under enemy fire or encountering an IED. I don’t know what she went through or what she is still probably going through. Sometimes I feel like my sister never came back from Iraq.
JMC425
Column 3
April 24, 2009
My sister talks to me about everything. She is my best friend, she is my counselor, she is my protector. My sister is everything to me. My sister has been under enemy fire and gone to sleep with constant blasts from nearby mortars shaking her bunk. My sister has been in the Army for almost five years. She received several awards such as “The Army Commendation Medal”, and after several promotions is now known by fellow soldiers as Sergeant Promotable Noel Hunter.
She is generally a well spoken person, but when Iraq becomes the topic of conversation, she experiences a loss for words. My sister’s memories from her first deployment to Iraq are mostly in images, thoughts and fragments.
The morning of her first convoy from Kuwait to Baghdad, Iraq, Private First Class Noel Purdie said she felt like she was suffocating when she put on her uniform, which was made from a rough material that constantly scratched against her skin. She was wearing the typical Army combat uniform: T-shirt, pants, boots, gloves, improved body armor suit, groin protector, ballistic sunglasses, ear plugs. She had 11 pounds of ammo strapped to her vest, a 30 pound medical aid bag secured on her back, a personal bag that carried her sleeping bag and extra uniforms in hand and her M-16 rifle slung across her shoulder. The extra 40 pounds of weight and layered uniform increase the temperature from 80 to about 90 degrees.
She didn’t feel the intensity of the heat until she climbed into the backseat of the HUMVEE, which happened to have a temperamental air conditioner. The heat came in waves and occasionally sweat dripped off her face and down her neck. She sat with her rifle between her legs, muzzle down thinking “I can’t believe this is real. I miss my family. I want to go home. I want to stay alive. I’m scared. It’ll be ok, it’ll be ok. Nothing is going to happen.” She sat with her rifle between her legs trying to prepare herself for the three day drive, eight to ten hours a day, only stopping to refuel and sleep. They were driving slow, scanning the land for improved explosive devices (IEDs), that could be hidden in boxes, tires or buried in the sand.
She was nervous and scared, really scared. She was thinking about the training that led her to this point. She had only been in the Army for a year. She was trying to remember all of the stories other soldiers told her about IEDs, smalls arms fire and Iraqis ambushing convoys—especially between Kuwait and Baghdad.
On the second day her truck finally crossed the border into Iraq. “The TV was right. I can’t believe people live like this.” Children were on both sides of the street. She said they looked like they haven’t bathed in a few days, they were barefoot, their clothes were ragged and they were really skinny—bony, their elbows and knees were prominent. She thinks, “I want to hug them and tell them it will be ok.” She noticed one room shacks along the road. They were made out of wood, tires, soda cans. “I could never live like that. I wouldn’t want to live if I had to live like that.”All she could smell was oil. “It’s so dirty. Trash everywhere.” The kids run after the truck shouting “Chocolate, chocolate!”
She said when she was driving down the road she replayed everything she had been taught and trained. “Seeing those kids like that makes my heart break. But, I have to protect myself. If I had to, could I really shoot this child? What if they do something, could I seriously stick my head out this window and fire at them? If my life is in danger, I’ll do anything. I have to make it home. My soldiers have to make it home.”
The third day, her HUMVEE had to stop. The road was coded black—something dangerous had happened or was found within the last 24 hours. “All I can hear is gun fire. I don’t know where it is coming from, who it was or what’s going on.” The road was cleared two hours later and after a couple hours of driving her convoy made it into Baghdad.
While my family was setting a spot for her at the dinner table, she was settling into her new barracks in Baghdad. It was Christmas Eve. She is my best friend, she is my counselor, she is my protector. My sister is everything to me. But, she can no longer talk to me about everything. I don’t know any of her stories about missions, being under enemy fire or encountering an IED. I don’t know what she went through or what she is still probably going through. Sometimes I feel like my sister never came back from Iraq.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Lindsay Lohan is always a popular topic given her severely out-of-the-ordinary behavior; especially recently, her relationship with Samantha Ronson has been under public scrutiny.
Lohan and Ronson recently broke up for unknown reasons. Lohan seems to be doing ok mentally, but only time will tell how this break-up affects her.
Lohan and Ronson recently broke up for unknown reasons. Lohan seems to be doing ok mentally, but only time will tell how this break-up affects her.
Britney has a stalker..well at least one
According to CNN.com, police arrested Miranda Tozier-Robbins outside of Britney Spears' home in Calabasas, California. Apparently, Tozier-Robbins was creeping around Spears' windows in camouflage fatigues with a backpack full of video equipment.
Security asked Tozier-Robbins to leave the property. She ignored their request and they had to physically remove her. The police were then called and Tozier-Robbins was arrested for trespassing and disorderly conduct.
Britney Spears' whereabouts during the incident are unknown.
Security asked Tozier-Robbins to leave the property. She ignored their request and they had to physically remove her. The police were then called and Tozier-Robbins was arrested for trespassing and disorderly conduct.
Britney Spears' whereabouts during the incident are unknown.
Britain's got talent
I was extremely disappointed after watching Susan Boyle's audition for "Britain's Got Talent". Don't get me wrong. In no way did her performance let me down. But, the audience's reaction, or judgment rather, was extremely disappointing. Before hearing her performance, the camera rolled over the audience as they laughed and rolled their eyes in unison. The entire audience expected the worst from Susan Boyle. It really hurt to watch Susan stand up on stage and I prayed that she didn't acknowledge their rudeness. How horrible are we? She is standing up their trying to achieve a dream, which is close to being lost because of her age, and people look down on her because of the clothes that she is wearing and her bubbly personality. If she has received that kind of criticism every time she auditioned, I am thoroughly surprised she keeps trying, but extremely thankful. She sang beautifully while making the entire audience feel guilty. Boyle sang a song "I Dream a Dream" from "Les Miserables", which was more than just a song, it was the story of her life.
I would have liked to include the audition that was available on YouTube, but the embedding option has been disabled. So here is the link. Take a look, you won't be disappointed.
I would have liked to include the audition that was available on YouTube, but the embedding option has been disabled. So here is the link. Take a look, you won't be disappointed.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
sweet
Iforgot to mention my sister is back from Iraq. So we are trying to re-adjust her to good old Nebraska life. I'll keep you posted.
Alibi
While celebrating my sister's return home from Iraq at the bar, we glanced up at the 17 televisions on the wall. Over half of the televisions had a male pictured. I asked who the guy was and what the big fuss was about. Well, it is a pretty big fuss. I soon found out that a professional baseball player was killed in a car accident by a drunk driver.
So today I didn't have to search too hard to find out more details on the story. Apparently, the baseball player was the pitcher for the Los Angelos Angels Nick Adenhart. Not only did the drunk driver kill him, but also two others while going 30 miles over the speed limit.
The driver was going 65 in a 35 in a mini van when he ran the red light and hit Adenhart's vehicle. The driver was not only three times over the legal limit but driving on a suspended license from a previous drunk driving charge.
If the driver is convicted on alll three murder charges he is looking at life in prison.
It's pretty crazy what you learn at the bar.
So today I didn't have to search too hard to find out more details on the story. Apparently, the baseball player was the pitcher for the Los Angelos Angels Nick Adenhart. Not only did the drunk driver kill him, but also two others while going 30 miles over the speed limit.
The driver was going 65 in a 35 in a mini van when he ran the red light and hit Adenhart's vehicle. The driver was not only three times over the legal limit but driving on a suspended license from a previous drunk driving charge.
If the driver is convicted on alll three murder charges he is looking at life in prison.
It's pretty crazy what you learn at the bar.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
"The Haunting in Connecticut" movie review
What wouldn’t a mother do for her children? Well for starters, dragging your family, including your cancer-ridden teenage son, to your new, highly paranormal home in Southington, Connecticut may seem like a bad choice, however, it was exactly the sudden and predictable choice the audience could expect from mother Sara Campbell after the devastatingly heartbreaking car-ride home after one of Matt Campbell’s treatments. This impulsively rash decision provides the setting for the movie “The Haunting in Connecticut.” The real estate agent claims that the antique-looking house “has some history”, but instead of asking further questions, the distraught mother thinks of only one thing before accepting the incredibly low amount being asked for the home—after stopping every ten minutes for her son to vomit, the only thing on her mind is reducing miles from their home to the treatment center.Early in the beginning of the film the family realizes that their new home was previously a funeral home. But, because Matt is skating the thin line of life and death, he is the only one who can see the trapped spirits and the past that haunts his new home. Conveniently, his family believes that his strange behavior is the result of hallucinations caused by his new treatment.
Although the movie utilizes some of the fairly common horror conventions to frighten the audience, the most terrifying aspect of the film is its ability to take the audiences’ genuine fears to the extreme, therefore intensifying unknown fear even after leaving the theatre. The movie contains several moments that make the knee-bouncing, fist-clenching movie goer gasp for air and clutch towards the person closest to them.
These scares, though sudden, were slight, including Matt’s hand plunging through the pillar on the porch and coming out covered with maggots, Sara mopping the floor with blood, flickering lights and the frequent shadow of a ghost lurking behind. The sound and lighting effects were, to say the least, comparable to other horror movies. But, the more substantial terrors that won’t be forgotten two minutes after they happen include more depth and special effects that play on typical fears such as darkness, blood and obviously terrifyingly violent ghosts that seem relentless to push this family out of their home any way possible.
Kyle Gallner plays Matt Campbell and provides the audience with an incredibly convincing performance that evokes not only sympathy but also increases the creepiness factor with his erratic and aggressive behavior. His weak, fragile body and pale complexion increase throughout the movie in accordance with the paranormal encounters. Gallner has been in several movies but is most recognized for his role in 25 episodes of “Veronica Mars” as Cassidy “Beaver” Casablancas, in which he turns out to be a murderer that takes his own life. Gallner’s work in the “Veronica Mars” episodes led him to the leading role in “The Haunting in Connecticut” in which he cultivates his ability to manipulate the audience’s emotions.
Gallner’s character outshined Madsen who seemed emotionally detached from the audience in her all-too-believable mediocre performance as a worried, tiresome mother that refuses to accept her son is dying and their house is haunted.
Although the acting was persuasive and realistic, the script itself proves to be the main obstacle towards success. Throughout the movie, it seemed as if the actors were deliberately putting themselves in compromising positions when these situations could have easily been prevented. The viewer often finds him or herself asking “Why don’t they just leave?”.
Saturday, April 4, 2009
Depressed Wong kills 13 and himself
Jiverly Wong was 41 years old on the day that he killed 13 people and then took his own life. He is now being described as a "coward" by Police Chief Joseph Zikuski.
People that knew Wong were not surprised by his violent massacre. One woman, who knew Wong said "Zikuski said Wong was depressed about his poor English-speaking skills, which he believed he was being teased about, and his recent unemployment.
People 'degraded and disrespected' the gunman over his inability to speak English well, Zikuski said on NBC's "Today" show."
Wong, who lived with his mother, father, and sister, worked at a place called Shop-Vac and recently lost his job there; he believed the bad luck would never end and was unhappy with the $200 weekly unemployment checks.
The shooting occurred April 3 at the American Civic Association where Wong "opened fire Friday morning on workers and immigrants taking citizenship courses at a community center" and was thoroughly thought-out beforehand. The victims had multiple gun wounds from Wong's two registered hand guns. Wong barricaded the back door of the community center with his car before opening fire on those inside.
People that knew Wong were not surprised by his violent massacre. One woman, who knew Wong said "Zikuski said Wong was depressed about his poor English-speaking skills, which he believed he was being teased about, and his recent unemployment.
People 'degraded and disrespected' the gunman over his inability to speak English well, Zikuski said on NBC's "Today" show."
Wong, who lived with his mother, father, and sister, worked at a place called Shop-Vac and recently lost his job there; he believed the bad luck would never end and was unhappy with the $200 weekly unemployment checks.
The shooting occurred April 3 at the American Civic Association where Wong "opened fire Friday morning on workers and immigrants taking citizenship courses at a community center" and was thoroughly thought-out beforehand. The victims had multiple gun wounds from Wong's two registered hand guns. Wong barricaded the back door of the community center with his car before opening fire on those inside.
Shooting in Pittsburgh
Three officers were killed after responding to a call early this morning. This article does not state the specifics on why the domestic abuse call was phoned in, but the call sent police to the house of Richard Poplawski. Apparently, Officer Paul Sciullo III was the first to arrive on the scene at 7:05 a.m. and upon entering the house he was immediately shot in the head.Officer Sciullo was with the force for 14 years. Shortly after Officer Stephen Mayhle entered the house to help Sciullo and he was also shot in the head. The third officer,Eric Kelly, had just finished his shift, but rushed to the scene to try and help the wounded officers when he was also fatally shot.A stand-off between Poplawski and the law enforcement soon followed. Poplawski was shooting from a bedroom window. An ARMY SWAT vehicle arrived at 8:30 a.m. and Poplawski opened fire, which prevented them from attending the wounded officers.
Two other officers, Timothy McManaway and Brian Jones, were wounded in this shoot-out before Poplawski surrendered. Police had responded to the Poplawski house two or three times before and neighbors said the family was trouble.This is the first time since 1995 that Pittsburgh, Penn. has lost an officer in the line of duty.
This article leaves questions, "What was the domestic dispute about" and "Why did Poplawski open fire on the police officers" that will probably never be answered.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Movie Review
As we consume ever more sophisticated forms of animation, it's easy to lose sight of the emotional connections we seek under all the technological fireworks.
When you watch "Coraline," it's easy to admire its imaginative fusion of low tech and high. But with stereoscopic 3-D, high definition and computer-generated effects added to the equation, the movie becomes supercharged with in-your-face palpability. (Find a theater showing the movie in 3-D for the full experience; most theaters will show it in the 2-D format.) We feel as if we could reach out and caress the characters' smoothly rounded faces or tweak the lacquered strands of their shiny hair. The problem is, we just don't want to hug them.
The movie, adapted from Neil Gaiman's enormously successful book of the same name, follows 11-year-old Coraline (voiced by Dakota Fanning), whose wish to replace the adults in her life leads to a nightmarish experience in a parallel universe. She finds herself in another world where charming replicas of her parents invite her to live with them. There's a major hitch, of course. Coraline's "Other Mother" (Teri Hatcher) makes her a prisoner and demands unyielding devotion.
For all its visual delights, however, "Coraline" remains more an engaging spectacle than a connective drama.
That is chiefly because of the writing. Director-writer Henry Selick doesn't reach for the kind of universality that would enrich the movie.
It's a shame because Fanning's performance is the movie's most emotionally persuasive element. Her assured modulations, from cheeky to sweet, from bored to anguished, should have been part of a bigger, deeper movie. Unfortunately, the screenplay is one humanistic rewrite away from realizing that. Animation's great purpose isn't merely to build superhighways to imagined worlds. It's to show us new footpaths to the human heart.
-- Desson Thomson (Feb. 6, 2009)
OVERVIEW--In this animated adventure from the director of "Nightmare Before Christmas," a small girl discovers a door in her home which leads to a skewed version of her own life.
Starring--Dakota Fanning, Teri Hatcher, Dawn French, Jennifer Saunders, Ian McShane
I really liked this movie review because it talks about more than the surface of the film. It digs towards the deeper meaning as to why adults enjoy cartoons. The writer is arguing that there is more to a cartoon than the sheer animation process and that a good cartoon should emotionally connect with the viewer. I completely agree. Some of my favorite cartoons have been those that I really connected to such as "Finding Nemo", "Monsters INC." and "Little Mermaid", I suppose the great animation does help with the overall enjoyment, but I believe Thomson is saying there is much more to a cartoon.
I have not seen this movie, but after reading what Thomson has to say, I would like to see this one. Thomson does claim that the director-writer could have pushed himself to make this even better because Dakota Fanning's performance was extremely persuasive and believable.
I also love the two ending lines, they sum up his thoughts on the article and emphasize why this movie was successful.
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