"What do you think about Obama's economic recovery program? Do you believe it is effective?"
or...
"Should Obama support the repeal of the 'don't tell/don't ask' policy regarding gay orientation in the military?"
even...
"Do you think Democrats will suffer this November during the mid-term congressional elections because of resentment/anger by the Republications for decisions Obama has made?"
I never thought I'd be asking anyone these questions; much less caring what their responses might have been. Because I really (and I am blushing as I say this) don't care. Politics make my head spin. Politicians irritate me. I have vivid memories of the breakfast table. My eyes still crusty and sleepy from the being awoken, I gripped my mug of coffee defensively while watching my dad shout back at voices on the television. The news. Rolling my eyes, I gather my mug slowly but eagerly make my way to the family room where Oprah was awaited me with a new publication for her book club, or the latest Dr. Oz "beauty secret". To me, such things are much more important and useful. (My dad WILL cringe as he reads this).
Nonetheless, here I am gripping my leather notebook while scribbling the details and remarks that make up people's opinions of Obama. They like him, they really really like him. His "report card" receives grades no lower than a C. On average, people responded with a perfect A+. Can we really give him such a high grade? Is his "No Drama Obama" method a useful tactic or an annoyance when we think of it in regards to what is happening with our oil? I find myself asking...should he really be keeping his cool? These are things I will be thinking about as I sift through the forty or so mini-interviews I conducted in Grant Park yesterday afternoon...
I took a shopping break in the late afternoon. Normally, shopping, unless it is for groceries...is not something I enjoy or consider to be a relaxing break. My reporter friend Tasha and I, however, needed a break from the hot summer sun, people, and our pens and notepads. So we bought clothing.
I do have a legitimate excuse, however. Living in a hostel with no laundry services leaves one with limited clothing at the end of a seven-day week spent eight hours from your normal closet. I needed a cute top to wear for my interview with Bob Rafferty. Bob is in charge of the web site's videos and feature pages that make up Wittenberg's website. Each of us was interviewed on our experiences as a reporter in Chicago. A girl has to look cute when appearing on the University's website...right? We raided the racks of Forever 21, Tasha and I. In the end, I wound up standing before the camera with the Chicago skyline in the background. I do have to say, however, that my melon colored tunic made me look and feel like a true reporter on her big break.
And here I am. The morning after, sitting in a Cuban Cafe listening to Cuban music. I am updating my blog while the rain patters against the sidewalks outside, and wets the streets between skyscrapers. My professor, D'Arcy Fallon is sitting in a chair across the cafe from me, writing in her notebook and occasionally shouting at the television screen mounted on the wall above. (Soccer is on...the only sport she follows). Meanwhile, whenever a cute man walks in we glance at one another from across the cafe and wink to one another.
Ahh...this is the life: coffee, cute men, my laptop, and the rainy city on a Saturday afternoon.
Alissa
More Later,
Alissa
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