The Weekly Albertan

Christmas Kettles taking to streets http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/community/70305567.html

Light Up set for Wednesday http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/community/70662467.html

Clean energy kicks tarsands http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/entertainment/70305797.html

History of design comes to Prince George http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/community/70551042.html

Twitter hits local classrooms http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/community/70550917.html

Local students take up donor challenge http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/community/70550732.html

At 9:00 a.m. I was sitting at the folding table (aka the meeting table) for our Wednesday morning story meeting.  Laura’s schedule today; 10 a.m. take pictures of UNBC students sorting garbage, 11:30 a.m. take pictures and interview students at blood donor clinic, 11:45 a.m. take practicum student (me) for lunch, after lunch call about avalanche workshop and write story, 3:00 p.m. interview and take pictures of Emily Carr professor.  Three students were standing in the cold with rubber gloves when I arrived.  They dug into the big green garbage bags for pictures.  The Blood Donor Clinic was running behind and the students did not give blood until noon.  I arrive half hour late for my lunch party.  Mmmm panini with borscht and loose green tea.  I call the avalanche guy who is paranoid and wants to see the article before it get printed.  All he said was where it was being held and when, who can go and how much it costs. He even e-mailed to remind me that he would like that.  At 3:45 p.m. I head down to Exploration Place.  The Emily Carr Professor told me everything about his exhibition and insisted the staff needed to be in the pictures I shot.  Back at the office I down loaded the photos and started writing.  4:30 p.m. and it was home time.  I love this job. 

I woke up to snow this morning. Lots of snow.  So I caught an early ride to work again.  I arrived just before 8:00 a.m. and the door was locked.  Everyone in the front office was late this morning.  A few minutes a taxi pulled up.  She apologized “My car is in the shop.”  I checked my e-mails on both my laptop and their Mac.  The story meeting started a few minutes after 9.  I got Salvation Army Kettles and new cancer lodge and take pictures of global warming dance performance at UNBC.  I had used my spare time to search for story ideas so I pitched a Girl Guide who has been a member since the age of five and is now 17, Caring for the Caretaker lecture at CNC, and two high school teachers who Twitter.  I got the go ahead for those stories. 

At 12:15, I was up at the university to take the global warming performance pictures.  Three students were dressed in spandex: Wind Turbine the Hero in silver spandex with cape, in black spandex Tar Sands the villain and Environmental Aerobics Instructor in purple spandex complete with blue and white stripped bikini bottoms overtop.  Weird but I got their names, took pictures, and went for lunch.  Hey, the university here already has a Timmies. 

After lunch I went to the high school to interview the two Twitter teachers.  Interviewed and took pictures of one but the other had left early.  The snow is still coming down.  Big wet flakes.  Back at the office I down load my photos and work on some of my stories.  Almost 5 p.m. time to go home. 

When I go home I undressed and put on my jammies.  Ahhh comfy.  Crap I have to go take pictures of The Trailer Park Boys because everyone else is at the Alan Jackson concert.  

After eating, I go dressed again and went down to Vanier Hall.  “Do you need a media pass or something?” asked the young girl at the door.  “No,” I replied.  “Okay,” she said.  The show started late so I got a good look at all the fans as they entered and found a seat.  Mullets, plaid shirts, baseball hats, and men.  Lots of men.  As the light was being lowered I made my way to the front and introduced myself to the security guard. The show started with a long pre-taped recording of them back stage.  “$%^*%^ )*&%^& (&*($” and a container of yellow liquid being thrown on stage.  More “$#$%%^&&^%$#$” and then puppets.  They were puppets of them trying to teach the audience that drugs and alcohol are bad but everyone does it so it must be good.  The crowd responded with hoots and heckling.  More $%$^%%$#@&&%$ and then peeing of pants.  I snapped as many pictures as I could and left when they decided they should hypnotize the audience. 

Now if is after 10:30 p.m. I am in my jammies and writing this blog.  Night Night.

http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/news/69910272.html

http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/news/69909997.html

http://www.bclocalnews.com/bc_north/pgfreepress/news/69787857.html

Cleaning the toilets on my first day at practicum? My sleepy eyes snap open from the sudden sound of the radio announcer’s voice.  “It’s 6:45 a.m.,” he says.   It was just a bad dream.  Stumbling to the washroom and then to the kitchen.  My boyfriend has made oatmeal.  “I will pick you up at 8:10 a.m. and drop you off a work,” he says to me. Brush my teeth and hair.  Wash my face and put on some make-up.  What should I wear?  I had been asking myself all week, but near found the answer.  Now I stare into my sparse closet. My new brown dress pants, black silk tank and a warm red sweater.  I hate being cold.  Okay, that will do.  8:05 a.m. my ride is back to take me to work.  I grab my new dress coat and the scarf I have never worn.  Dress shoes and ice-a-toners, purse, backpack with laptop and camera.  Do I have everything?  We pull up the front for the building with the big white sign that read “Prince George Free Press” in big red letters.  Kiss good bye, slid out of the truck, slam the door and I head for the door.  Deep breath, I grab the silver door handle and go inside.  I was not even two steps in when I dark haired woman asked “are you the intern?”  I replied “yes” and she took me into the back.  My name is Theresa and here is your desk.  “Bill is not here yet so you can wait here,” she said followed by a friendly smile.  Bill soon arrived and we did the usual first day of work rounds.  This is so and so and there are the washrooms, here is lunchroom.  “So, this is your desk,” Bill says.  “Sorry about the mess,” says Theresa.  “We weren’t going to clean it in case you didn’t show up,” she says laughing.  Bill smiles and bobs his head in agreement.  Theresa leaves and comes back with a wet brown hand paper from the washroom.  As she wipes I move random papers, CD’s, and a giant Montréal Canadians travel mug.  “We always have story meetings at 9 a.m. on Mondays,” Bill said.  “Give her one of those notepads,” says Theresa.  She came back with a huge 350 page notebook. Bill came out of his office and announced it was time to start the story meeting.  I was given, Healthier You Expo, P.G. man flies airplane across Canada, and local DJ wants to bring back theatre radio. After the meeting I met with Bill in his office. 8 a.m. on Tuesdays and Thursdays, 9 a.m. Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.  “When are these stories due?” I asked.  “As soon as you can,” he replied. “Come and go as you need to get things done but this afternoon we need to edit,” Bill said.  I return to my desk.  I sit down in front of the Mac computer.  “Oh, no a Mac” I thought.  I managed to get on the internet to start my research before calling for interviews. How do I get a Word Doc?  I can’t ask.  This? No. This? No.  Oh, this looks like some kind of worksheet.  I finally called my first interviewee.  Answering machine, um hi this is Laura umm Allgrove from The Weal oops the Prince George Free Press. “Pst! What the telephone number?”  That was embarrassing.  I plodded along and struggled to make the Mac do what I know I can do on my PC.  “It’s lunch time,” Bill says as he puts on his coat. I walk over to my old stomping grounds, The College of New Caledonia, the cafeteria will do today.  I sat in a quiet corner and enjoyed my tea.  I was back in my new desk before 1 p.m. “How are you doing?” asks Bill.  “Good,” I replied with a big smile.  “Do you need me for something else?”  “Yes, I want you to write a paragraph about why you are here,” Bill said. I wrote, deleted, wrote and edited, rewrote and rearranged.  Nothing seemed good enough. “Here is a sheet that needs editing,” said Bill.  Between the writing and the editing, the rest of my afternoon went by quickly.  “You can go Laura.” It was after 5 p.m. The air was cool but the street was quiet.  It gave me time to think about the day.  I did not have to clean the washroom like my nightmare had predicted.  Today was a good day.