A pinwheel spin

Here's Nicholas enjoying a birthday present from his grandparents in China. Warning: video may cause dizziness.

Mixing metaphors

On Saturday it was so windy that Nicholas & I lost a kite. But before that, we were driving down the street & he said:
"The grass is blowing like a shimmering volcano."
Yeah, he's a poet.

Givin' ain't easy

Gave my pint of O+ today. A few lessons learned:
1. I don't care how old you are, when a nurse sticks a needle the size of a coffee straw into your arm, it HURTS.
2. Don't stand up quickly after depositing a pint of blood from your body into a plastic bladder. It makes the nurses nervous when you say that you're dizzy.
3. Don't drink three bottles of apple juice in rapid succession after giving blood. Because it might as well be prune juice when you drink that much of it.
4. In fact, don't give blood at 9 a.m. at all. Wait until after lunch when you've been eating all day.

Quit yer whining

I know I bellyached about working last Saturday, but it turned out to be great. I got to cover a speech by Sister Souljah. Here's my article about it.
For those of you who forgot, Sister Souljah (as in, Soldier) was the little-known community activist who recorded a few tracks with Public Enemy in the early '90s. But her big time exposure came in 1992 when she answered a question from a Washington Post reporter about what was motivating the Los Angeles rioters:

I mean, if black people kill black people every day, why not have a week and kill white people? You understand what I'm saying? In other words, white people, this government, and that mayor were well aware of the fact that black people were dying every day in Los Angeles under gang violence. So if you're a gang member and you would normally be killing somebody, why not kill a white person? Do you think that somebody thinks that white people are better, or above and beyond dying, when they would kill their own kind? (emphasis mine)

That italicized chestnut earned Souljah the rebuke of then Arkansas Gov. Bill Clinton, who used the comment in his presidential campaign as a way to distance himself from black extremism and reassure Southern whites that he could stand up to black folks. Calling out Souljah for her racism was a little like being against terrorism or lukewarm coffee. I mean, who isn't? Now, using that kind of political grandstanding to engender solidarity with a certain voter base is known as a "Sister Souljah moment."
Anyway, back to the speech. It was enlightening to hear her speak because while it's easy to dismiss her as an extremist, her perspective resonated with most of the black audience that night. There's so much lingering resentment among black people that Souljah's not so far out of the mainstream. It's also unfair to judge her on one or two soundbites because most of her talk seemed like a sermon imploring her black audience to stand up, stop imbibing corrosive hip-hop misogyny and hedonism and take control of their destiny.

Out for blood

UPDATE: I just discovered that O is the universal donor, meaning anybody (type A, B, AB, O) can receive my kind of blood. I feel even more important now.

The blood bank called me up today and asked me to give a pint because they need more of my type, O+.
It's nice to be wanted.

For the last time

I have to go to work now. On a Saturday. I hate this part of my job.
But... this will be the last time I will ever have to work for a newspaper on the weekend.
Yes.

Signs of the age

Nicholas has a new obsession: Street signs. Every time he sees one, he has to ask what it means. He's especially fascinated by the red circle and diagonal line motif, the ones that prohibit whatever symbol is inside the circle. Like No Parking, No Trucks, No Smoking.
Then, of course, he must quiz me on why no dogs or whatever are allowed. His mom even bought him a book about signs.
The park district signs are especially instructive because they have three prohibitions and one rule for pets. So every time Nicholas sees that one he says:

"This sign says no guns, no parking on the grass, no drinking beer. And if you only have a dog, you have to scoop its poop away."

Every single time.
Yesterday we were at the ice skating rink and he noticed the sign prohibiting ice skates on the concrete bleacher stairs. Of course, he wanted to know why. I said, because the skates will chip the concrete and ruin it.
So today, he sees a No Trucks sign and asks why. I said, because trucks will ruin that road if they drive on it.
In a moment of epiphany, he says,

"The trucks will chip up the road, just like the ice skates will chip up the stairs."

Smart guy.

How hot was it?

It's 83 degrees in my office. 83 degrees! And it's only 73 degrees outside...

Cougars: Our greatest threat

The Trib has another follow-up story on the cougar that Chicago police shot after it wandered into Roscoe Village. Freak occurrence, but of course a bunch of mambie-pambies whined that they should have tranquilized the thing and relocated it. Yeah, sure. Let a giant carnivorous beast wander the streets while you call in animal control. Oh wait, how many doses of cat tranquilizer will it take to knock out a mountain lion, sarge?
Sheesh. It's sad that it was shot because it's a magnificent animal, but c'mon.
But that wasn't the best part of the story. Here's a break-out tips box:

ENCOUNTERING A COUGAR
- Pick up children immediately.
- Do not approach it. Give the cougar an avenue for escape.
- Do not run; this can trigger an attack.
- Back away without turning your back on it.
- Do all you can to look bigger. Don't hide or crouch down.

Mmm-khay. I'll make sure to remember those tips FOR THE NEXT TIME I RUN INTO A COUGAR IN THE THIRD LARGEST CITY IN AMERICA!

Time keeps on slippin', slippin'

I've installed a countdown clock to tell me just how long until I must report for orientation and begin my law school career. It's a little over four months as I write this. Or 126 days. Or 3,032 hours. Or 181,978 minutes.
But who's counting?

Out of the way

There's a spot behind the dresser and the wall, the one where dust, small change and loose buttons accumulate. I've fallen in there, too.
And there's no one to pull me out.

Pay attention to me!

Time for a little Thursday fun:

If a secret is told in a newsroom, is it really a secret?

A funny thing happened thanks to this blog. Several weeks ago I decided to stop avoiding the issue and start posting about my law school pursuits. It seemed kind of lame to have spent an entire year without blogging about the most important goal in my life.
The reason I'd been avoiding it was because several people from work read this blog. But I thought, hell, everybody in the office already knows I'm going to law school, so I'm not fooling anybody. I did not, however, take the time to think out the logical ramifications of that assumption -- namely that if everybody in the newsroom knows, then so does my editor-in-chief, the one who hires and fires. And of course, I made the decision to tell the world about my plan to change careers just a couple weeks before the company announced plans to cut staff.
So last week I get a cheery email from her congratulating me on my acceptance to Iowa and inviting me to come talk about it. And, oh, by the way, she knew all along and had been patiently waiting for me to come tell her. Only now, she wouldn't wait any longer because of the newsroom staff cuts. I'd been keeping my head down waiting to see if anybody took the buyouts before telling her about my plans. But she beat me to the punch. Oh well. Good news is, she isn't signing my walking papers yet and will keep me until I'm ready to go later this summer. But I suspect my position may evaporate or morph into something else.
Here's what she wrote in her weekly update email:

Just one more thing: Congratulations to Nate Legue on his acceptance into law school at the University of Iowa. Yep, I know. Yep, Nate knows I know. I am delighted he is reaching so successfully for his dream. So how did I know: Well, there's this little thing called the Web…. Thanks, Nate, for being such a good sport and for being part of the newsroom. If you do go, you will be missed!

Anyway, the Register Star was my first "real" job in newspapers, so I'll miss it too.

Dodging the bullet

At the monthly company meeting today, our publisher announced that 19 people had applied to take the buyout package offered earlier this month. With about 14 positions frozen already, it sounds like the company has more than enough jobs to cut without actually forcing layoffs.
Sweet.

From the Filipina side

An former coworker of mine started her own blog. I only worked with her for about a year, but we grew close. She's a sweetheart; she moved into the Chicago area to help take care of her mom. She called me her kuya, a Tagalog term of respect that means literally "older brother." I miss her, but I'm glad the internet means never having to say goodbye.
Check out her blog.

Go Hawkeyes!

I've made my decision. I will pursue a juris doctor degree at the University of Iowa College of Law this fall.
After all this hard work, after nearly two years of preparing and testing and applying, I must exult in this moment. I will attend the University of Iowa.
This choice has more meaning to me than just the school's ranking as a top 10 public law program. Its significance dates back to my high school days when I was applying for undergrad. I wanted to go to Iowa because of its reputation for writing. I was accepted and enrolled, I even attended the orientation. But I never went there because my parents decided it was too much money. I went on to flunk out of most of my community college classes and flounder for several years before finishing up my bachelor's at a commuter school.
Looking back, I realize that missing out on Iowa was devastating to me. I really wanted to go there. And I also know now that money is not a barrier to attending college.
So the truth is, attending Iowa vindicates something deep inside me. When I first set out on this law school process, Iowa was what I set my sights on. It was the best school I applied to.
And now I'm going to go there.

Slight miscalculation

The admissions dean at Loyola called to tell me today that I am the first runner-up for the Adreani half-tuition scholarship. That means that I'll get it if the winner takes a pass. But the two women who control the foundation "liked" me so much that they offered me $6,500 a year, which in addition to the $11,000 Loyola already awarded me, would amount to half of my tuition bill. So I essentially got the scholarship anyway.
But here's the thing I didn't realize. When Loyola granted me admission, they offered me that $11,000 or a third of tuition. I just assumed that the scholarship would be in addition to that, making the total award better than three-fourths of the bill. But today I found out that the Adreani scholarship would replace the original amount.
Anyway, I'm honored that the two sisters (not nuns, real sisters) who run the fund were impressed enough with me that they were willing to help me out so generously.