Yummy Yummy Haight Street

All You Knead. I guess it’s all right there in the title, but this Haight street jewel is one of my favorite restaurants in the city. It’s the kind of place where everything on the menu is delicious, and they even serve breakfast all day! The huge booths are broken in and comfortable and there is always something interesting to look at on the walls. The extensive menu offers everything from breakfast to sandwiches to pizza-the best part is it’s cheap! Two people can easily dine for less than 20 dollars. I have spent much of my life eating BLT’s (bacon, lettuce, tomato-just incase), and for that reason I might even call myself a BLT connoisseur. All You Knead has one of the most amazing BLT sandwiches I have ever tasted, and I even bring my friends and family to AYK and make them order this delightful treat. It is served on fresh baked 7-grain toast with just the right amount of perfectly sliced tomato’s and crunchy lettuce, and they never skimp on the bacon, which is cooked just right! All You Knead also cuts their own French fries and season them with a secret red spicy powder. Although the place can get a bit crowded for breakfast and lunch on the weekends, don’t be discouraged, the service is relatively quick and orderly. Bottom line if you are ever on Haight street and wondering where to stop in for a quick bite, look no further that All You Knead! Oh and if you want my advice, order a BLT, I promise you will be satisfied.

Art Gallery: Intimidation

Art tends to be inherently intimidating. Thanks to my Father, I have never felt that intimidation. Between the home I grew up in and the one my parents live in now, there was always enough art hanging on the walls and on bookshelves to have filled the Art Institute of Chicago. Anyway, when it comes to art galleries and museums, bring ‘em on! Pretentious art brokers and zany artists don’t intimidate me, they intrigue me. That is until I walked into “Off the Wall Art”, a gallery on Haight Street that sells posters and reprints of famous paintings. The first time I went into the shop it seemed like there was no one else in there, including anyone working. My friends and I walked around for five minutes or so but got annoyed that no one was there to help that we left unsatisfied.
Months later I saw a sign in the window of “Off the Wall” that said ‘Lost Our Lease Closing in 3 Days.’ I decided to give the place another chance, figuring that at least there would be a decent sale. Well I wish I hadn’t gone back in because the sales woman/ owner of the shop who had failed to help us the first time, was snippy and a tad feisty. My boyfriend and I found the one poster in the place that wasn’t on sale and the woman was short with us as she rang up the purchase. The poster is a pretty awesome map of the Haight-Ashbury area, with a key telling you where all the musical people of the 60’s and 70’s lived. I walked out of “Off the Wall” with 150 dollars less than when I walked in, and a new intimidation of art (one that I had so fortunately avoided for 21 years). After 23 years, “Off the Wall Art” a store full of posters and reprints has lost its lease and is moving to Ninth and Folsom. Haight Street in San Francisco is one of the friendliest places on earth, between the hippies and tourists; I guess there just is not room for pretentious art.

A Little Taste of Chicago...in Hayes Valley

Moving to a new city comes with its fair amount of pros and cons. Pros for example may include an exciting new job or school, new friends, and new adventures. And the cons…well they seem more obvious, being far away from family and the life we were used too. When I moved to San Francisco from Chicago, almost three years ago the two big struggles were trying to make a long distance relationship work and trying to find some decent Chicago style deep dish pizza. My long distance relationship ended quickly; however, I met the love of my life! Now it seemed all there was left to do was find some delicious pizza (those two things may not be on the same level for the average person, but Chicagoans are pretty hard-core about pizza)!

After diligently searching I found the answer to my prayers in Hayes Valley, a quaint neighborhood in San Francisco. Patxi’s Chicago Pizza was just the place I had been searching for. The menu isn’t huge but with pizza’s including, The Favorite (Pepperoni, mushrooms and black olives) and Hawaiian (Canadian bacon, pineapple and onions), I promise no one will leave hungry. Colleen Jackson, a Patxi’s regular, said “I try to come at least twice a month, and my favorite pizza is Chicago style with sausage and green peppers.” Patxi’s serves both Chicago style and thin crust pizza and with a large selection of salads this place always hits the spot.

Although it is not exactly like home, heading down to Hayes Valley for some deep dish pizza is a lot cheaper than jumping on a plane back to Chicago. So, next time you move to a new city and you are a little homesick, find yourself the stuff that makes you happy. Which apparently for me were a new love and some awesome pizza?

Worth a thousand words!

Photography plays a huge role in the world of journalism. Politicians, athletes, religious figures, celebrities, and everyday people grace the pages of our newspapers, magazines, and the Internet. Their faces are often filled with emotion— whether it joy, pain, disgust, confusion, or otherwise. It may seem simple: take a picture, write a caption, and publish it! However, many photojournalists have made some seriously unethical decisions regarding photography. You may be wondering what I am talking about, let me explain. The creation of the computer program Photoshop has led many people to alter their photographs from their original state…to pretty much anything they want, without explaining that it has been altered. With a program like Photoshop, a person can change the exposure, colors, and insert or delete objects. Another unethical thing photojournalists do is set up shots. A photographer’s job is to capture life, people, and real situations—in order to show society things that are going on in the world. However, when a photographer says ‘stand there’ or ‘hold this’ or ‘cry’, they are altering the situation and creating a moment that did not in fact ever happen, but was set up! Over time, many photographers have made this unethical decision, and paid the price by losing their jobs. Pictures are worth a thousand words…something we have all heard a million times…photojournalists should just make sure the thousand words, are the right ones!

Ethically Speaking: Celebrity Obsessions

Tabloids & Paparazzi: two things that A-list celebrities can’t seem to avoid and society can’t seem to get enough of! When ‘tabloids’ first started the term referred to the format not the content; however, magazines such as The Star, OK!, and The Enquirer have since changed the term ‘tabloid’ and everything that it entails. Today the “tabloids” are focused around celebrity news, gossip, sports stars—the stories emphasize and sensationalize these people and the things they do. The stories that headline these magazines are basically ridiculous and unethical to say the least, and the pictures that go along with them are no better. The stories and pictures cover every angle of these people’s personal and private life; the stories and pictures are more often than not, defamatory and libelous. Paparazzi are another huge ethical issue; these people’s lives are spent chasing celebrities around everywhere to snap candid shots of celebs. The celebrities are often caught off guard and doing things they probably do not want to be photographed doing. Paparazzi, however, are relentless and like journalists who will do anything to ‘get a story’; they will do anything to ‘get a photo.’ Whether it is climbing a tree, sitting outside of Tom Cruise’s house at 3 a.m., or chasing Paris Hilton in her Lambo down the 5 in L.A.—paparazzi will stop at nothing. If these stories and photographs are so unethical then why will writers risk being sued for libel and photographers will risk crashing into a wall or falling out of a tree? In short, these people will risk their own lives because society loves to see celebrities at their best and especially their worst. Stories about Lindsay Lohan’s drug problems and pictures of Britney Spears sans underwear makes these people normal, and I think it makes people feel better about themselves. Our society has come to envy celebrities and look up to them (unfortunately above almost any other job), and so these magazines will continue to fly off supermarket shelves regardless of their lack of ethics.

Ethically Speaking

American Journalism Ethics (AJE)…wow, that is quite a mouthful. I have quickly learned in Dr. Robertson’s class that the ethics of journalism are insanely complex. Protecting sources, privacy, stereotyping, yellow/public/new journalism, Photoshop, Fox News (enough said)—the issues that encompass journalism are basically never-ending. Although I have not blogged in six months (my bad), I am back in full swing and ready to talk about many of these ethical issues. Stay tuned for the first installment of Ethically Speaking.

"Is this your first time? You look nervous."

The first memory I have of being at church is amusing to say the least. I was about 2 ½ years old; in addition, for visual purposes (or laughs) I was pudgy with a pretty legit mullet and had my bag of Cheerios clenched tightly in my little hand. Neither the priest’s captivating sermon nor the choir’s angel-like voices hold any significance in my vivid memory. However, I distinctly remember the look of mortification on my mothers face when she finally snatched me off the floor, after I had crawled under 25 pews and was only feet from the alter (the final destination).

Apparently, she got over the embarrassment caused by her turbo-charged tubby toddler, because from that day on I attended church every Sunday with my mom and two sisters. For a solid 18 years, I woke up each week and headed to 10 o’clock mass; not necessarily, because I wanted to or was I forced—just because that is what I did. Religion quickly became a huge part of my life.

For me being a Catholic was pretty much the inevitable: my mother was a devout Catholic, I was to be raised in a 100% Irish Catholic neighborhood, and I was baptized as an infant. At the budding age of four, I began preschool at a private catholic school and as you can see, things have not changed much. Ok, unfortunately that might be a bit of an exaggeration, a lot has changed since I was four. Two years ago I moved halfway across the country and was far far away from the conservative Midwest setting I was so used to. Because of my new self-ruling lifestyle, I found myself waking up at 3 p.m. and eating ice cream for breakfast. However, my sleeping and eating habits were not the only things that changed. I could have never expected this to happen but I stopped going to church—completely!

The last nine months of my life have been nothing short of a roller-coaster, sometime in August ‘06, everything began spiraling downward and I had totally lost control. The once comforting relationships with my parents, friends, and boyfriend were frustrating, I was struggling with school, I was constantly stressed with work, and even my health was suffering. I tried everything in my power to fix it, yet it seemed the harder I tried the worse it all got (such is life I suppose).

Last Thursday morning (May 3, 2007), as I sat on Lone Mountain watching the sunrise, the sun’s rays seemed to almost be pointing at USF’s St. Ignatius church. There it was—the light at the end of the dark tunnel, the dark tunnel that had become my life. At 12:05 p.m., I stood hesitantly in the doors of St. Ignatius, one of San Francisco’s most beautiful churches. A Christian church is a place of worship, a place where everyone is welcome, and most importantly where everyone is accepted—yet I was instantly overcome with feelings of guilt and regret, as though I had let someone down (God, my mom, myself).

The priest greeted the people and spoke the words I had heard a million times before “The Lord be with you,” as the congregation rose and replied, “And also with you.” My heart had slowed down and I apprehensively made my way to a pew in the back. Jim Thompson, an 81-year-old St.Ignatius regular, slid in next to me in a near empty church, which seemed odd, but I was glad he did. “This your first time or something? You look nervous,” said Thompson, as he winked at me then smirked. I was so caught of guard, my thoughts were all over the place—who does this guy think he is, oh no…he knows I’m a bad person. “Um…um…no,” I began stuttering, and then quickly interrupted my stammering self. “No, this is not my first time in church. Yes, this is my first mass at St.Ignatius,” I said in a firm tone.

Mass continued on as it always does: stand up, sit down, stand up, kneel…ect. The congregation recited the usual prayers (the Our Father and Nicene Creed), said their Prayers of the Faithful, and offered the sign of peace to one another. I followed along and participated as I had so many times before, and it felt good. However, because of my current state of life and the fragile old man’s comment, I sat consumed and distracted by the profusion of thoughts in my head. Mass had come and gone, and I was shocked when I read the time on my cell phone—it was 3:23 p.m. As I moseyed my way towards the door, I was mesmerized by my first experience at St. Ignatius almost as though a huge weight had been lifted.

Unfortunately, church & religion do not have magical powers so my life was not instantly made perfect. However, reintroducing the sense of faith and spirituality into my life and remembering that I am always welcome in the house of the Lord, I believe are lessons essential not only for me but for everyone.