Death is never easy. Death is hard, unkind, and always sudden. For a reporter, death is supposed to be easy. It's supposed to come and go, with no emotion, no after thought, tell the story and move on, but death, death is never easy. Today a community memeber died and reporting on it is hard. Thinking about it is hard, lose, even with a person I didn't know is hard and when you know every detail and are supposed to report on the situation in an unbiased manner, death becomes harder. But that's what I have to do, make a clean solid story about the death of a women I now know every detail about yet had never spoken to her in my life. It is a curse and a blessing of the job, being able to get all the details. If there were one thing though, one thing that I would tale out of this job, one thing I would never have to think about, write about, or dig into, it would be death. The saddest and hardest part about this one, she didn't have to die. A freak accident caused this one. At least when the person is sick or old, the blow doesn't come as hard, but when it could have been prevented, stopped, changed in some way, death becomes the hardest thing in the world to accept. Today death made a visit to Wilshire Tower, and it come as hard and fast as it could.

Blog 6

I was at home on what seemed like normal day when I got a very strange call. It was a tip. Now normally I would be all over it, but that wasn't the first tip of the day, in fact it was the fourth. The weirdest part, they were all for different events. I know this town in crazy but this was above the norm. So I got here i sat for some odd reason thinking about what I was going to do next. As I started to get ready for one I got a call for another, and then another. Sitting down now I decide to wait for yet another call. The air feels think and humid, the sky grayer than usual. I walk over to the window pulling the curtain to the side to get a better look. At that moment a loud crack breaks through the sky and my phone starts to ring yet again. The fifth tip of the day. I walk over to pick it up, but before i get there the power goes out. Great. I start looking for a flash light. Do I own a flash light? I am a reporter, I should own a flash light. As i stumble around the cramped space that I cal home, a glow seems to be coming from the window. As I listen more carefully I here frantic cries. I rush toward the window and see the Mosque on fire. Not only on fire but in complete flames, a smoke stake rising as high as the tower. Guess it's time to go. Grabbing my rain jacket I rush out the door. It was going to be a long day.

Carnival II

It seems to be a great day for reporting! Madness has ensued on the carnival, no surprise there. This whole town is complete madness, its getting hard to keep up with all the crazy that happens. Life seems to be getting harder and harder, keeping up becomes almost impossible. That’s the downfall of being a reporter, and the upside, news, events, life, it never stops. All though I think for this town it’s a bit different, exceptional I would say. A political group has placed itself at the carnival and among being louder more disruptive then the carnival itself has started to drive people away, which in turns draws more people in. But as al of this is going on Dave is having some chicken melt down. Apparently more were delivered then ordered. But when it comes to Dave who knows what the whole story actually is. So I begin walking over to that scene of events. Yelling is an understatement. But like I said its Dave, and among having a drink or two in him, he sometimes doesn’t seem all there. Then the real madness starts. The chickens are loose, people are running everywhere and making the chickens run everywhere as well. I need to move out of this damn town, but where would I get my excitement in life. I mean really who is the last person to be able to report on a bazaar carnival, Dave, and loose chickens. No one. And that’s why we are all still here I guess. Partly because of entrapment, I mean where else would we go, and the other part, the bigger part, we love being here, at least I do. It makes me want to throw myself off a cliff at point, don’t get me wrong, but this town has become my life, this town is a life.

carnival

Bright lights. There were bright lights every. Almost too bright. They drew you in. they dazzled and charmed, pulling you in almost, almost embedding a sense of danger as you got closer and closer without knowing you had taken a step. The carnival was in town. Without the lights, you may not have even noticed, but those lights were impossible to miss. There was not much sound coming from the set up, not the usual kids screaming, laughter, crashing of cars. It was a quite as it was bright but with the occasional jump of an engine to get something going. The strange thing is, a lot of people in town go to the carnival, but it always seems abandoned, there for the lights and nothing else. Maybe not everyone feels the some way I do about the lights. But how could they not. I start walking toward a ride in the carnival, watching the man standing by the machine. I feel his eyes on me as I walk by. I forget about where I am and what I’m doing. The ferris wheel draws m toward it. I’m now on it, watching everything from new heights. I like when the carnival is in town.

Town days

Walking around the city today everything seems especially dead and down. No one is out, nothing seems to be going on, but not to any big surprise. As I was on my stroll I pass by Dave’s meat shop and see him standing behind the counter. He looked depressed but didn’t everyone in this town. I notice him glaring at some thing, I turn and see a kid on the side walk selling lemonade. Well at least the youth had some spirit in this town. Suddenly I hear yelling in the background. I turn to walk toward it. It’s a couple fighting. I can’t make out who it is. I try to listen. They are talking to fast for me to make out what they are saying. It comes to a stop. They break apart and go in opposite directions. In a split second, it is as if nothing was going on, and I seem to be the only one who has witnessed what happened. I feel like that happens a lot in this town, which makes reporting in the town worth while and that much more difficult. I may be the only reporter but when no one else can tell me what happened it’s hard to make it believable.

Hello !!

Welcome to Wilshire Tower! I’m Courtney Red. I bet you are wondering how I got such an interesting name. Well you see, I have these red boots that I wear almost every day. People can always tell when I’m coming because of them. They have the most districted click clack. This can be kinda tricky sometimes though, because when I’m trying to be sneaky it is very hard. You see I’m a reporter in this small jacked up town. I’m the only person bringing in any sort of news into this town. I report everything that happens. I have all the gossip, all the fights, all the secrets that go on in this town. People don’t know it but I’m always watching. I live in the apartment, with most of the rest of the town. I’m door 323, so if you ever have any information to spread make sure you come to my door. I’ve lived in this town since I can remember and don’t ever really see a way of leaving. But with all the information I have on this town, I plan on writing a book someday and putting us on the map. That's my dream for this town.