An Ode to My 20s

I like these scrunchy ankle boots
I like Philadelphia
I miss Villanova
Do I like this guy?
Should I date this guy?
When will he call?
Screw it, I will call him.
He wasn't home.
Fuck him, I am going out dancing!
Beer
The Cure
Laugh
I like this guy
I love this guy
He dumped me
I hate myself
I hate my body
TV
Movies
Beer
I will  now call all my friends and cry
Depression
More crying
Feeling better
Fuck him, I am going out dancing!
Shoes
U2
Travel
I like myself
I like writing
I love writing
Laugh
Beer
U2
Why the hell are my parents so weird?
I like this guy
But I also like THIS guy
I will date both these guys!
Wait a minute, they both came to see me tonight at my apartment!
At the same time!
I think I will drink this whole bottle
Wine
Pick one guy
That was wrong
Pick the other guy
Move to a new apartment
Then another
Travel
I love him
He loves me
He dumps me
Cry
Call all my friends and cry
Beer
Write
Write more
Travel
Work
Work more
Why won't they fucking edit my story already so I can GO HOME?
Oh my God. It's the copy desk calling at 11 p.m.
The mall
Move to a new city
New job
Move again to another city
Beer
Karaoke
New job
New friends
Lots of friends
Laugh
Is every single one of my friends getting married?
Bridesmaid seven times
Sang "Ave Maria"
Sang it again
And again
I like this guy
Now this guy
Dumped
I hate him
I hate myself
Write a personal ad
Date
A lot
This time, I do the dumping
Beer
More writing
Am I any good at this?
Am I any good as a writer?
As a journalist?
I just wish I knew
Maybe I stink at this
I think I stink at this
No, I am good at this
My boobs look good
My boss hates me
Insomnia Anxiety Depression Therapy
No more beer
No more guys who make me cry
I like myself more now
I can write
Fuck it, I am gonna sing show tunes!

(My birthday is coming up soon. While I am not all that thrilled to be aging or to be over 40, there are MANY aspects of being older that are great. For one thing, a lot less angst! I know who I am, and what I am capable of, and how strong I am. I know I will survive. Hey, hey.)

Sean Holton's Half-Assed Guide to Journalism Mediocrity

Sean Holton

My former Orlando Sentinel colleague, Sean Holton, died today after battling brain cancer bravely and with an intact sense of humor. Sipping Jameson's probably helped too. Sean was a great editor, funny guy and very nice man, among many other things. He kept a funny and honest blog while he was sick and you can read it here.

Here is Sean's obituary from his friend Craig. Here is Jeff Kunerth's detailed and awesome obituary in the Orlando Sentinel. (There is also a Guestbook to sign).

In 2003, he created his "Half-Assed Guide to Mediocrity" and passed out copies to his fellow reporters and editors at the Sentinel. Thanks to Lisa Cianci and Mark Schlueb at the Orlando Sentinel for passing this along. It is good advice for my fellow journalists and my journalism students.

Your goal for today is to neither be half-assed nor mediocre. Oh and maybe to sip some Jameson's. Do it in memory of my friend, Sean.

SEAN HOLTON’S HALF-ASSED GUIDE TO MEDIOCRITY

(Version 3.0: Release date, Jan. 6, 2003)

40 ways to promote mediocrity

1. Don’t care.

2. Don’t try.

3. Be negative.

4. Tolerate mediocrity in others.

5. Rationalize mediocrity in yourself and others.

6. Hide out in your job.

7. Build up a small piece of your job into more than it is, and hide behind that.

8. Be blithe about your mistakes.

9. Hide your mistakes.

10. Make people afraid to admit and correct their mistakes.

11. Don’t connect the quality of everything you do to the quality of the overall paper.

12. Don’t connect the quality of your colleagues’ work to your professional self-interest.

13. Don’t respect deadlines.

14. Don’t learn and respect the newsroom process all the way through the copy desk.

15. Don’t make that next phone call.

16. Don’t read that story printout one last time to make sure everything is exactly right.

17. Believe “good enough” is actually good enough.

18. Dwell on the shit that flows downhill, and don’t set the fires that will burn uphill.

19. Kid yourself that mediocrity deserves an “achieves standards” review.

20. Take no responsibility for your decisions, especially the stupid ones.

21. Cultivate your own martyrdom and encourage martyrdom in others.

22. Be a duplicitous backstabber.

23. Relish the blame game.

24. Be afraid to speak your mind.

25. Be afraid to think big.

26. Be afraid to be an aggressive editor.

27. Be afraid to kick back a story when it’s not good enough.

28. Be afraid to be edited aggressively.

29. Throw a snit when a story is kicked back to you.

30. Hoard power.

31. Confuse power with leadership.

32. Manage through fear and control.

33. Kiss up to your bosses and kick down at your subordinates.

34. Treat full-grown adults like children just because they happen to work for you.

35. Forget about all the people around you who are working their asses off.

36. Don’t treat colleagues with professionalism and respect.

37. Don’t get reviews finished on time.

38. Make everything personal.

39. Take everything personally.

40. Bitch about the law of gravity.

I Want a Journalism Internship

I want a Journalism Internship
by: RandomReality
Here is a funny video I made about my sometimes-silly college journalism students.


The video has been viewed nearly 3,000 times (!!!). It was re-tweeted a bunch of times and the awesome Jim Romenesko did an interview with me for his column.

 

Kathryn Quigley likes

Xtranormal: I want a Journalism Internship

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My Ash Wednesday Burger Protest

I wrote this in 2011 and it still applies in 2012. This morning, I ate turkey sausage.
     KQ       2/22/12
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I ate meat yesterday. I was raised Catholic and knew it was Ash Wednesday but I willingly and defiantly pulled up to the Wendy's drive-thru and ordered a Junior Bacon Cheeseburger. It was delicious and according to the Church, it was a sin.

I knew that and didn't care. Here was my reasoning: If dozens of priests in the Philadelphia Archdiocese can't keep their hands off the private parts of children and teens, and Church leaders protect priests over children, then I am going to eat a damn hamburger.

There I said a curse. Another sin. You know what else is a sin? Priests in a position of power taking sexual advantage of children. It is wrong and it is evil. I know that. The priests know that. Millions of Catholic all over the world know that.

The Archdiocese SHOULD know that. But if they do, why did it take so long for them to respond to these allegations? Why did it take years of abuse claims, investigations and two scathing Grand Jury reports before 21 additional priests were removed from public service this week.

On the TV news last night, I heard a nun say the discipline of the 21 priests "was a persecution of priests." HA! Persecution is what thousands of abused children went through for years, when no one heard their cries and no one stopped the abuse.

I realize my hamburger protest is small and silly. I definitely do NOT think I am going to hell for eating meat. But it is perhaps the first time in my life that I have willingly broken Lenten tradition, even if I haven't been devout in years. But it is my small protest, my personal rebellion against a screwed up Philadelphia patriarchy.

I was raised Catholic in Northeast Philadelphia and attended 16 years of Catholic school. Aside from the folksy "guitar Masses" in the 1970s, I never really experienced a deep sense of love or peace in my parish church or school. Instead, the priests (with the exception of one, who later left the Church) were stern and severe. Confession was intimidating. There were no Saturday night Masses in Philadelphia because it was "wrong." We didn't know why. Masturbation was wrong. Premarital sex was wrong. Heck, mostly everything was wrong.

In religion class, we learned that Hell was painful because we would be on fire for eternity. We were taught that our souls were like white paper dolls and when we sinned, God took a hole punch and left a black mark. Really, teachers? REALLY? Yes.

In my parish grade school, the slow learners were placed in "F" level - "F" for failure. Looking back, I am sure most of those students probably had learning disabilities. But I don't think they were ever helped.

But I kept my faith for two reasons. For one, the two priests in my family - my uncle, Father Jack Quigley of Kansas was a good and kind man. So is my cousin, Father Leon Hutton of California. My high school was St. Basil Academy of Fox Chase, Pa. run by an order of Ukrainian nuns who love their students with all their hearts and each day demonstrate the goodness of Jesus.

I went to Villanova University on as scholarship (not my first choice - I wanted to go to secular Swarthmore). At Villanova, I found a progressive and caring community where Mass was one of the highlights of the week and many students worked for peace and justice. But Villanova is run by Augustinian brother, not the Archdiocese and I bet that made all the difference.

During my years living as a reporter across the country, I found welcoming parishes such as St. Patrick's in Fayetteville, N.C. and St. Juliana's in West Palm Beach, Fl.

Now I live in South Jersey, where I went to a parish church that felt like home. Well, it did until the Bishop of Camden closed my parish. Now I struggle to reconcile my deep doubts about the Catholic Church with how I want to raise my son. I consider becoming an Episcopalian, where women can be priests and priests can marry. Or a Unitarian, since they seem to welcome everyone and judge no one.

How am I supposed to tell my young son that he needs to follow Church law when many of its priests - God's Representatives on Earth - can't keep their hands to themselves? And Church leaders cover it up.

I don't know the answer. But I do know I am eating meat all throughout Lent.

Me and Dan Rather

Dan Rather came to Rowan University on April 11, 2008 as part of the school's 41st celebration of the Hollybush Summit. That was the event in 1967 where President Lyndon Johnson met face-to-face with Soviet Premier Kosygin. It was a pretty big deal during that time (Cold War) for those two to sit down together.
Rowan - then known as Glassboro State - was selected as a meeting site because it was halfway between NYC and DC. The school had just a few days to get ready and was quickly thrust into the spotlight.
As part of the anniversary of the Summit, former CBS anchor Dan Rather was brought in to moderate a panel on nuclear proliferation. He also took the time to teach a class for our students, including some of "my kids." It was great. He was great. All Dan Rather haters can just shut up.
I heard him speak at the IRE convention in Denver in 2005 and he was great then, too. I found him to be smart, well-spoken and really quite humble. He gave my kids good advice. Here are some of my notes:

The ability to write is the most important skill for a journalist

"You have to read books."

A journalist is an honest broker of information for the people at home.

"If I'd been a better speller I might have stayed in newspapers."

Be accurate. Be fair.

News is what someone somehere doesn't want you to know. All the rest is advertising.

 

"Look it up in the dictionary."

Journalists don't need to know everything, they just need who to ask or where to look it up.

(He is speaking entirely without notes.)

In terms of ethics, listen to the inner voice that says "you are going too far."

After the panel, I weasled my way into a reception and got to chat up Dan one-on-one. In the pictures, I alternately look like I am pushing him or about to hug him. Hee.

My column about sex with: high-priced hookers, the McGreeveys and horsies

Clearly, I lead a dull life. This may be because I am the single mother of a high-energy toddler who runs around all day and wakes up all night. Or it could be because I never had sex with: a high-priced prostitute, an aide to former N.J. Gov. Jim McGreevey, or a horse.

Let’s talk about the call girl first. “Kristen” from the Emperor’s Club VIP used her Jersey Girl smarts to charge $4,300 for sex with former Gov. Eliot Spitzer of New York. Now he is no longer governor. And millions of people are listening to her songs on her MySpace page. I admire “Kristen” for thinking she is worth that much. But Eliot, really, $4,300?? I balk at paying $19.99 for Match.com.

What the heck did $4,300 buy exactly? It sure wasn’t discretion. Let me tell you what I would expect for $4,300: George Clooney, in the dark suit he wore in “Ocean’s 11,” feeding me chocolate-covered strawberries. He would laugh at my jokes, rub my feet and come around to my point of view that Hillary Clinton would make a better president than Barack Obama. Of course we would make sweet, sweet love but it actually would cost NOTHING because George would be so enamored of me. See? This is a good fantasy and it cost nothing.

Apparently it cost nothing (except for perhaps his pride and self-worth) for a former aide to Jim McGreevey to announce this week that he had threesomes with McGreevey and his ex-wife. Dina Matos McGreevey says “no way,” Jim McGreevey and the aide say “way” and I am left befuddled. I think I am going to go with Dina on this one, if only because Jim has already proved himself to be a liar, liar, pants on fire.

I know people have threesomes – I watch cable TV, but it all seems like a lot of effort.

Take the “swingers lifestyle” for example. One drawback of being a tired single parent is that I often just flip to whatever is on TV and am too dopey to change the channel. So there I was, watching Showtime or HBO or some other premium channel that I have since canceled because "The Wire" over (sob!) and there was a documentary all about swingers. Let me try to express my opinion of some of the people featured: They are not attractive.

No. Nope. Not. At. All.

See, if I had the time, energy and inclination to “swing,” I would want to do it with supermodels and hunky actors. These people in the documentary looked like the dude at the car wash and his woman.

There were also all these rules. For instance, one couple only dated other couples. What? Dating once you are married? I thought that was the POINT of being married – to never, EVER have to date again. And not only does the couple need to get along, each couple has to get along with EACH OTHER – enough to have sex. Now really, when does that ever happen? The couple’s other rule was that they had to begin the evening having sex with each other, then they switched to the other couple and then they came back again to each other again at the end of the night. Whew!

At least they were not having sex with a horse. Another show that caught my tired attention recently was a movie on the Sundance channel called "Zoo."    It about farm animals and the men who … love them. Except one of the men, who was from Seattle, died in 2005 after having sex with a horse. Yes.

The movie "Zoo" is all arty and blue-toned and not at all graphic. The men talk about their love of horses and there are shots of men in silhouette walking to the barn as music plays. I was horrified anyway – but kept watching in that car-wreck way.

I am not alone. When the story was first published in the Seattle Times, it became the most clicked-on story on the Web site – for the whole year. According to Editor & Publisher, this was partly because the story was a link on the Drudge Report website.

All of this proves that I live a very dull life, indeed. Thank God.

When an Airplane Doesn't Fly

Ten years ago, I wrote a memorable newspaper article about a prostituion sting along a highway in Central Florida. The highway hookers carried flashlights and lured men who were driving by, looking for some, um, companionship. An undercover sting nabbed ten men, one of whom was in his 70s and walked with a cane.

My kicker to the story was about how one "customer" asked the undercover hooker for a sex act called an "airplane." No one knew what that meant, but we all had a good laugh. Today in class, I had my students read the story as an example of a short, but amusing tale written on deadline. They figured out what an "airplane" was in about 5 seconds by Googling it. (No Google in 1998). Here it is. (See Definitions 3, 4 or 5)

Let me just say that this act seems quite complicated and involves at least three people. Oh my! Thank God my students are over 18. I had NO idea what it meant!