Nothing is more frightening than to be accused of something terrible. I've been writing for years and have never really been accused of anything bad. Except that one time I had to asked this military spouse what her husband's rank was after he blew me off and got into formation to board an aircraft leaving for Iraq. Once in formation I knew they could not be bothered unless it was a dire emergency so I found his wife and asked her. She told me he was a sergeant and so that's what I published under a photo of the two kissing each other goodbye.
The following week after he got a copy of the newspaper, I get a phone call from him all the way from Iraq to complain that I demoted him. I felt bad that it happened, then I played the tape recorder I had in my hand of his wife telling me he was a sergeant. But offered to print a retraction in the next issue which he apologized for yelling at me and hung up to call his wife. The next day I received a phone call from his wife, asking if it was too late for me to print a retraction to include the words "his wife mistakenly told the reporter the wrong rank."
I'm sure her husband fussed at her and demanded she correct the problem based on the sadness of her voice. I told her it wouldn't be a problem to print a correction and that I would not blame her for the mistake. I'd go ahead and take the hit if the editor asked. So the following week since I was doing a story about the recent deployments taking place on the base that I added a different photo of the couple's loving embrace with the correct rank on it. I emailed her a copy so she could see what would be in the paper. She was happy about it and was sure her husband would be happy about it as well. He was. He wanted a perfect copy to send to his mother. He still teases her about it every now and then, when we see each other at the coffee shop we try to be the first to buy the other a cup of coffee every now and then. Until he was deployed again and this time never made it home ... alive. I haven't seen her since the news was published. Sadly, I take turns with four others to write the obits and it breaks my heart when its someone I know, have done interviews with or even hung out with after work.
Since then I've done my best to ask their full names, ranks and units before they had to get into formation or double check with their rear detachments if I had questions.
Life is about lessons and when you think you've learned them all, it takes a boot to the head to make you realize you haven't learned everything.
Two weeks ago as I checked my work list, I noticed one of my stories didn't post. Upon reading the editor's note it said I was accused of plagiarizing and that he would be in contact with me soon. I was devastated. I spent hours worrying and wondering what happened. I thought I attributed all my sources, posted the links and even made sure to rewrite my posts so that it doesn't copy word for word. I made myself sick with worry that I didn't eat, coffee had no appeal to me at that time and I felt a deep sorrow.
Working for a newspaper I knew the seriousness of plagiarizing and was hurt that I would do such a thing after training more than hundreds of young soldiers about journalism and what's expected of them when they write for me from the field or downrange in Iraq or Afghanistan. I thought to myself, "how could I slip up like this? Me? The person with a desk filled with style guides and other reference books."
Then I get another message by email stating that because this was a serious matter they will decide on what to do about it.
After crying for an hour I swallowed my self-pity and wrote back that I did not mean to commit such a crime and would take full responsibility for my actions. I'd even stop posting until the matter has been resolved. I enjoyed the opportunity given to me and I almost lost it all due to ignorance.
I'm lucky to work with people who are understanding and willing to help when called upon. It was the boot to the head that made me realize that I got too comfortable with my writing style that I didn't pay attention to detail and got to arrogant to think my work was nothing less than grade A material. Sometimes it takes a boot to the head to show you how human you really are and make you stop and think.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
What's the deal with blaming video games for violent kids?
What is the deal with video game violence and its effects on children? I've often asked my friends this (gaming and non-gaming) just to see what they say about the topic. Yeah. There's violence in games but no more than what is seen in the movies, read in books or watched on television.
What I keep seeing as I read or write these news stories is that "we're fighting for our children" or "this is detrimental mind rot to the youth of today" .... Blah blah blah.
Okay, i've said this before and have received mixed comments back on this topic ... But, why are we responsible for babysitting someone's kid? If you don't want them to have potentially violent media learn to tell them "NO!"
What? We can say "NO" to drugs but when it comes to games, movies or music we dare not challenge the child's request? Believe me ... it's easy. See? "NO!" Easy to say and so quick you don't have to pencil the word in between all the cursing you'll end up doing just to get the kid to go take a bath and go to bed. No time management skill necessary for that one.
I get tired of this whole: "It takes a village to raise a child" crap. One. I didn't carry the little ones around for nine months and shoved it out into the world ... so why should I care if he one day wakes up and decides he wants to wear his pants down to his knees, baseball cap backwards or lime-green Scooby Doo undies underneath a pair of white pants? I'm just the person in the mall trying not to spew my cola-flavored slurpie all over the damn place when I see that nonsense. Heck if it weren't for the goofy looking dog I'd think the kid crapped his pants.
Of course, I tend to share my new weekend findings with friends and unsuspecting people butting into my business or preaching to me about the evil of games to me in the first place. Which led to an aggressive argument with one religious non-gaming naysayer who claims to have two children of his own. And happens to think Scooby Doo clothing goes with anything in his child's wardrobe.
In his preachings he brought up the ol' "it takes a village to raise a child" spiel and that I should have just told the kid's parents how ridiculous or inappropriate the kid looked.
Okay, I live in an area populated by self-proclaimed southerners. Mutton chops, baggy overalls and any fashion dictated by Hollywood as the latest and greatest cool outfit of the century. Who'd rather put a bullet through my skull for even questioning their fashion sense than yank the kid's britches back up to cover their butts.
"Sorry Cleatus Joe! My bad. I didn't realize rat-tails were the in thing this year. You look great in that mullet and the tobacco pouch is dead sexy ... YEE HAW!!!!"
My comical response sent the man ranting and raving all the way back to his car. Trying to negotiate the child's sense of direction when crossing the street, instead of holding the kid's hands. Well... that and his confirming my one way ticket to hell for being an unwilling to be saved gamer. As he shoves one kid into the car and chases after the other, I managed to squeeze in one last say on the matter before he drove away.
"Well, if it takes a village to raise your child then obviously you should rethink your choice of being a parent or your lack of parenting skills have annoyed your "village" long enough and they've been forced to step in."
Yeah. Never seen a man so angry that his head turned red. Kind of looked like that girl from the exorcist just before her head began spinning around. And in a morbid way as I imagined his head exploding and blood splattering everywhere that all I could think of was "hey ... he's actually kinda hot as a redhead."
After reading the video game report card from MediaWise it sort of proved my point that most of this could have been prevented if parents have stepped in to understand what ESRB means and look at the games their child wants to purchase instead of doing whatever it takes to shut them up.
You've seen them in the game stores. Once and awhile an adult brings their 6-year old into the store. The kid runs through the aisles and finds the game with the cool looking robot on it. Plain as day the ESRB rating on the box said "M-for mature" and mom or dad tries to put it back until junior pitches a fit on the floor.
"PUH-LEASE!!!! I WANT THE GAME WITH THE COOL ROBOT!!!!" Mom and dad ignores them. Next thing you hear before you black out is "I WANT THE ROBOT GAME! Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! OR I HOLD MY BREATH TIL' I DIE BECAUSE YOU WON'T GIVE ME MY ROBOT GAME!!!!" This is often followed by a high-pitched scream.
After what seemed like hours you get up and check yourself. Hoping not to find you peed yourself and wipe the blood off your ear lobes. Look around to see if the couple and their screaming banshee have gone, then scramble home.
Then weeks later we're annoyed by news flashes about how how a violent game ended up in the hands of a 6-year old and your favorite game store is under investigation for selling it to the kid.
What I keep seeing as I read or write these news stories is that "we're fighting for our children" or "this is detrimental mind rot to the youth of today" .... Blah blah blah.
Okay, i've said this before and have received mixed comments back on this topic ... But, why are we responsible for babysitting someone's kid? If you don't want them to have potentially violent media learn to tell them "NO!"
What? We can say "NO" to drugs but when it comes to games, movies or music we dare not challenge the child's request? Believe me ... it's easy. See? "NO!" Easy to say and so quick you don't have to pencil the word in between all the cursing you'll end up doing just to get the kid to go take a bath and go to bed. No time management skill necessary for that one.
I get tired of this whole: "It takes a village to raise a child" crap. One. I didn't carry the little ones around for nine months and shoved it out into the world ... so why should I care if he one day wakes up and decides he wants to wear his pants down to his knees, baseball cap backwards or lime-green Scooby Doo undies underneath a pair of white pants? I'm just the person in the mall trying not to spew my cola-flavored slurpie all over the damn place when I see that nonsense. Heck if it weren't for the goofy looking dog I'd think the kid crapped his pants.
Of course, I tend to share my new weekend findings with friends and unsuspecting people butting into my business or preaching to me about the evil of games to me in the first place. Which led to an aggressive argument with one religious non-gaming naysayer who claims to have two children of his own. And happens to think Scooby Doo clothing goes with anything in his child's wardrobe.
In his preachings he brought up the ol' "it takes a village to raise a child" spiel and that I should have just told the kid's parents how ridiculous or inappropriate the kid looked.
Okay, I live in an area populated by self-proclaimed southerners. Mutton chops, baggy overalls and any fashion dictated by Hollywood as the latest and greatest cool outfit of the century. Who'd rather put a bullet through my skull for even questioning their fashion sense than yank the kid's britches back up to cover their butts.
"Sorry Cleatus Joe! My bad. I didn't realize rat-tails were the in thing this year. You look great in that mullet and the tobacco pouch is dead sexy ... YEE HAW!!!!"
My comical response sent the man ranting and raving all the way back to his car. Trying to negotiate the child's sense of direction when crossing the street, instead of holding the kid's hands. Well... that and his confirming my one way ticket to hell for being an unwilling to be saved gamer. As he shoves one kid into the car and chases after the other, I managed to squeeze in one last say on the matter before he drove away.
"Well, if it takes a village to raise your child then obviously you should rethink your choice of being a parent or your lack of parenting skills have annoyed your "village" long enough and they've been forced to step in."
Yeah. Never seen a man so angry that his head turned red. Kind of looked like that girl from the exorcist just before her head began spinning around. And in a morbid way as I imagined his head exploding and blood splattering everywhere that all I could think of was "hey ... he's actually kinda hot as a redhead."
After reading the video game report card from MediaWise it sort of proved my point that most of this could have been prevented if parents have stepped in to understand what ESRB means and look at the games their child wants to purchase instead of doing whatever it takes to shut them up.
You've seen them in the game stores. Once and awhile an adult brings their 6-year old into the store. The kid runs through the aisles and finds the game with the cool looking robot on it. Plain as day the ESRB rating on the box said "M-for mature" and mom or dad tries to put it back until junior pitches a fit on the floor.
"PUH-LEASE!!!! I WANT THE GAME WITH THE COOL ROBOT!!!!" Mom and dad ignores them. Next thing you hear before you black out is "I WANT THE ROBOT GAME! Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! OR I HOLD MY BREATH TIL' I DIE BECAUSE YOU WON'T GIVE ME MY ROBOT GAME!!!!" This is often followed by a high-pitched scream.
After what seemed like hours you get up and check yourself. Hoping not to find you peed yourself and wipe the blood off your ear lobes. Look around to see if the couple and their screaming banshee have gone, then scramble home.
Then weeks later we're annoyed by news flashes about how how a violent game ended up in the hands of a 6-year old and your favorite game store is under investigation for selling it to the kid.
Teaching a Grizzy how to fly a fighter jet
It's been a few years since I grew tired of my N64 and gave it to my father to keep, sell or use it as a bookstand and went to GameStop to purchase a PS2.
Then last Christmas out of the blue he called me at work to ask how to turn on the N64, what kind of games could he play on it and soon ask if he could have the games I already traded-in at GameStop two years ago. So, just to be nice I went back to GameStop, found and purchased all my old game titles and gave them to my dad.
I knew he'd be happy playing Mario Kart, Perfect Dark and Donkey Kong 64 for awhile or get frustrated and put them in storage. I thought he would be happy or put it away. Wondered if he was playing them or if he had put them away. He played two minutes of both games and decided he didn't like them but didn't want to put them away. Instead he wanted a newer game.
Seemed simple enough. I offered to take him to the store with me to pick out a few games because I knew he was picky about what he liked and disliked. I thought he would go with me to the store to pick a game ... I hoped he would go to the store to pick a game. No. He wants nothing to do with the game store because he felt people would laugh at him for wanting a game and asked that I go "pick something" for him to play. So I picked a few war games like Sarge's Army and a few James Bond titles since he was a fan of the movie.
I took them to his house where he asked me how to play the game. I suggested the book that came with it, but he felt I was insulting him and spent a few hours teaching him how to make his characters move and what each button function did in the game. I made sure he knew how to work the game, even played a few levels with him and left for home. I was positive he knew how to play the game ... I hoped he understood how to play the game ... then my cellphone rang. He didn't understand how to play the game and proceeded to ask me what each button function was on his controller and how it relates to the game. So I turn the car around and drive back to his house to go over the controls of the game and helped him beat the first level. This repeats for three weeks and I have a meltdown about pestering me at work about level 4 of the videogame and that unless the house was on fire stop calling me or I'll sell his "bleeping" N64 and use the money for liquor.
Its now Christmas 2006, my dad hasn't called in a while to ask about how to play a level or for new games. In fact he would often report that he was almost done with the game and plans to go to the store to buy a game for himself. I was actually proud of my dad sucking in his pride and going to the videogame store himself. So I cleaned my house, played with my cats, blogged and sent last minute e-cards before going to his house for Christmas dinner.
I get there. My brothers aren't speaking to me. Which meant they just got through having a four hour recount of my dad's time in the Army or they've grown tired of explaining something to him. They explained in great detail the agonizing day of finding a game store that's open and buying him a copy of a flight simulator style game and have been helping him play his new game all afternoon. Dad was proud of himself for finishing his James Bond and Army Men games, and has grown tired of the simulator he's only played with for one hour. Now he wants a PS2. So after New Years, when all my bills have been prioritized and paid I went to buy him a PS2 as a late Christmas gift.
I knew he'd be happy with a few SOCOM titles and even a James Bond title for the PS2. I hoped he would be happy with the SOCOM titles ... I thought he would at least be happy with the James Bond title. He wasn't. Since New Years, I would often go home to find my PS2 games have been raided and since there were no forced entry points on the door or windows. I get a call ... it was dad ... he wanted to know how to get Snake (from Metal Gear Solid) to crawl into a vent.
Every week it seemed someone has rearranged the games I've spent all weekend alphabetizing, grouped and cataloged into my collection. Metal Gear Solid was placed with the Kingdom Hearts, the Devil May Cry with my Parasite Eve series and my Final Fantasy series out of numeric sequence in my library.
This year, I thought I'd buy him the same thing that's in my collection since he still refuses to go to the store for himself. So after Thanksgiving, I went to the black Friday sale at GameStop and left with $30 worth of Metal Gear games and a few Army titles he seemed to have shown interest in.
Wait. My phone is ringing.
Then last Christmas out of the blue he called me at work to ask how to turn on the N64, what kind of games could he play on it and soon ask if he could have the games I already traded-in at GameStop two years ago. So, just to be nice I went back to GameStop, found and purchased all my old game titles and gave them to my dad.
I knew he'd be happy playing Mario Kart, Perfect Dark and Donkey Kong 64 for awhile or get frustrated and put them in storage. I thought he would be happy or put it away. Wondered if he was playing them or if he had put them away. He played two minutes of both games and decided he didn't like them but didn't want to put them away. Instead he wanted a newer game.
Seemed simple enough. I offered to take him to the store with me to pick out a few games because I knew he was picky about what he liked and disliked. I thought he would go with me to the store to pick a game ... I hoped he would go to the store to pick a game. No. He wants nothing to do with the game store because he felt people would laugh at him for wanting a game and asked that I go "pick something" for him to play. So I picked a few war games like Sarge's Army and a few James Bond titles since he was a fan of the movie.
I took them to his house where he asked me how to play the game. I suggested the book that came with it, but he felt I was insulting him and spent a few hours teaching him how to make his characters move and what each button function did in the game. I made sure he knew how to work the game, even played a few levels with him and left for home. I was positive he knew how to play the game ... I hoped he understood how to play the game ... then my cellphone rang. He didn't understand how to play the game and proceeded to ask me what each button function was on his controller and how it relates to the game. So I turn the car around and drive back to his house to go over the controls of the game and helped him beat the first level. This repeats for three weeks and I have a meltdown about pestering me at work about level 4 of the videogame and that unless the house was on fire stop calling me or I'll sell his "bleeping" N64 and use the money for liquor.
Its now Christmas 2006, my dad hasn't called in a while to ask about how to play a level or for new games. In fact he would often report that he was almost done with the game and plans to go to the store to buy a game for himself. I was actually proud of my dad sucking in his pride and going to the videogame store himself. So I cleaned my house, played with my cats, blogged and sent last minute e-cards before going to his house for Christmas dinner.
I get there. My brothers aren't speaking to me. Which meant they just got through having a four hour recount of my dad's time in the Army or they've grown tired of explaining something to him. They explained in great detail the agonizing day of finding a game store that's open and buying him a copy of a flight simulator style game and have been helping him play his new game all afternoon. Dad was proud of himself for finishing his James Bond and Army Men games, and has grown tired of the simulator he's only played with for one hour. Now he wants a PS2. So after New Years, when all my bills have been prioritized and paid I went to buy him a PS2 as a late Christmas gift.
I knew he'd be happy with a few SOCOM titles and even a James Bond title for the PS2. I hoped he would be happy with the SOCOM titles ... I thought he would at least be happy with the James Bond title. He wasn't. Since New Years, I would often go home to find my PS2 games have been raided and since there were no forced entry points on the door or windows. I get a call ... it was dad ... he wanted to know how to get Snake (from Metal Gear Solid) to crawl into a vent.
Every week it seemed someone has rearranged the games I've spent all weekend alphabetizing, grouped and cataloged into my collection. Metal Gear Solid was placed with the Kingdom Hearts, the Devil May Cry with my Parasite Eve series and my Final Fantasy series out of numeric sequence in my library.
This year, I thought I'd buy him the same thing that's in my collection since he still refuses to go to the store for himself. So after Thanksgiving, I went to the black Friday sale at GameStop and left with $30 worth of Metal Gear games and a few Army titles he seemed to have shown interest in.
Wait. My phone is ringing.
Sunday, September 14, 2008
New adventures take too much time.
Sorry I haven't posted in a long while, I've been busy as of late with several projects as well as trying to find a new job further up the east coast ... or if i'm lucky a job that entails traveling. I miss moving around every three years as a military brat.
Anyways, the project's i've been working on include writing for www.gamertell.com and character concepts at iMU studios and bForsaken Productions. As well as my regular day job. Its been taking alot of my time lately, but I will try my best to get back on the blogging cycle and keep you posted.
I've recently started a myspace and facebook page if anyone wants to add me to their friendlist. Just look for YuffietheGreat on both of them. I'm also dealing with trying to figure out how get my groove back at work. Not sure if anyone can help me with this one though.
Recently, I've become bored with writing for my newspaper. I'm sort of distracted and want to move upwards in the gaming industry, but I also want to do more photography than writing. I think I need a vacation of sorts to get myself back together. My co-workers have begun to notice my lack of interest because its showing in the stories I've written in the past three weeks. I've been getting into trouble with the command information chief about my writing.
I'm not exactly sure she likes me much anyways, since it doesn't take much for her to blame for something. She gets excited about the little things easily, which is why I do try to do my best to make everyone happy. Even if I know I would have to be miserable for a few days. :(
Don't get me wrong, I love my job. Best people in the world to work with and all. I'm just ... distracted. I want more ... and I want something I can't have right now. A career that will allow me to just do what I enjoy most. Gaming and photography. I want to learn more but feel the only way to excel is to leave this town and adventure outside of North Carolina. See what I've been missing all these years and find something that will move me in a way that I will enjoy the next career choice as much as I have enjoyed working at the newspaper here. I feel I have been here so long, that I'm writing the same stories year after year and I'm letting the people I work with down because I can't put the same enthusiasm into my stories today that I did last year.
But I have a very good feeling that my time is soon, I will find the right path I need to walk on. I'm sure it will be scary at first, but as long as I don't let my past hold me back, it will be an adventure worth living.
Anyways, the project's i've been working on include writing for www.gamertell.com and character concepts at iMU studios and bForsaken Productions. As well as my regular day job. Its been taking alot of my time lately, but I will try my best to get back on the blogging cycle and keep you posted.
I've recently started a myspace and facebook page if anyone wants to add me to their friendlist. Just look for YuffietheGreat on both of them. I'm also dealing with trying to figure out how get my groove back at work. Not sure if anyone can help me with this one though.
Recently, I've become bored with writing for my newspaper. I'm sort of distracted and want to move upwards in the gaming industry, but I also want to do more photography than writing. I think I need a vacation of sorts to get myself back together. My co-workers have begun to notice my lack of interest because its showing in the stories I've written in the past three weeks. I've been getting into trouble with the command information chief about my writing.
I'm not exactly sure she likes me much anyways, since it doesn't take much for her to blame for something. She gets excited about the little things easily, which is why I do try to do my best to make everyone happy. Even if I know I would have to be miserable for a few days. :(
Don't get me wrong, I love my job. Best people in the world to work with and all. I'm just ... distracted. I want more ... and I want something I can't have right now. A career that will allow me to just do what I enjoy most. Gaming and photography. I want to learn more but feel the only way to excel is to leave this town and adventure outside of North Carolina. See what I've been missing all these years and find something that will move me in a way that I will enjoy the next career choice as much as I have enjoyed working at the newspaper here. I feel I have been here so long, that I'm writing the same stories year after year and I'm letting the people I work with down because I can't put the same enthusiasm into my stories today that I did last year.
But I have a very good feeling that my time is soon, I will find the right path I need to walk on. I'm sure it will be scary at first, but as long as I don't let my past hold me back, it will be an adventure worth living.
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