Mallory Colliflower: Online producer

After a long and patient wait spent folding clothes at Banana Republic, ladies and gentlemen, I have landed a job. Actually, I’ve been at said job for about a month now and every week gets more and more exciting and challenging. You know all the stories and photos and videos that are posted on your favorite newspaper’s Web site? Well there isn’t some robot there posting all that content.  Computers aren’t doing it either. Producers who monitor, edit and select content make sure things on those Web sites are fresh and newsworthy. Luckily, in the state of this economy and the state of the industry of journalism as a whole I can be proud, thankful and relieved to call myself an online producer at the Miami Herald. Gotta give mad props to my classmate and good buddy Adrian Ruhi who also works there who recruited me for the spot.

I’ve learned a ton so far working with the McClatchy content management system and tweaking my news judgement, which is what I’m trying my best to work hardest on. My boss, Shelley Acoca, has been coaching me to put myself in people’s shoes. “What are people thinking and talking about today?” That has been helpful so far. I even polled some peeps on Twitter to see if they thought news judgement was learned or innate. Got some confidence-boosting answers that mine could improve over time if I work at it.  I think I just need to find my niche. Having control over something so public and wide-read is a little jarring at first, but networking with other online producers on Twitter and getting to know everyone in the newsroom is making me more comfortable.

So that’s the 4-1-1. It’s likely that if you’re reading this you found it via Twitter, but if you didn’t, you’re much more likely to keep track of my happenings there (@malcolli).

We’re also working to tweet more from our Miami Herald twitter account (@miamiherald) so follow us to stay on top of your South Florida local news.

Three days in New York City

I had a few proud motherly moments during my trip to New York City this weekend.  Not that I’m in any way as cool as Mary’s own mom, but that we’d grown so close that it felt like my own little chickadee was spreading her wings, and that made me happy.

Mary is one of my closest friends and my roommate in college.  We were randomly assigned to the same dorm room for our freshman fall semester at UF and I couldn’t have been luckier to get such an awesome roommate. We lived together for three years in college and now she has thrown caution to the wind and moved to New York City to live out her big-city dreams, and her friends get to come spend a wistful weekend in the city with a free place to stay.

We ate some delectable food. In the East Village we had greasy but authentic savory Venezuelan arepas at Caracas, which tasted even better with a brown-bagged Corona to wash it down.  The place sat about six people total so we munched our dinner in the park.  The next day and right around the corner Colonel Sanders was put to shame by the fried chicken I had at The Pink Tea Cup. Soul food at its finest. What I was most looking forward to as far as pleasing my palate was concerned were the famous cupcakes of Magnolia Bakery.  They were good but a little dense and crumbly for my liking.  It’s hard to knock a bakery that cranks out fresh cupcakes until 12:30 at night.

Other than that we mostly just moseyed around, shopped and people-watched. The feelings of independence I gathered from living out Mary’s life in the city with her, even if it was only for three days, was just the motivation I needed and wanted to get out of my short trip.

Election Day and new family members

It’s been a busy day in the Colliflower/Ortiz family today.  Aside from being a fairly political family and being anxious about the long-anticipated presidential election today, we were awoken around 6 a.m. this morning by my sister Courtney dropping off my nephew Owen so that her and her husband could head to the hospital.  Stella Noelle wanted in on all of the political excitement, and she showed herself to the world at 11:13 a.m. with a swift and easy delivery.  She’s a gorgeous little election day baby.  Needless to say the day has been rather hectic, only to continue with non-stop news watching for the remainder of the evening.

I’ve been debating about the “obligatory election post” and whether or not to jump on the band wagon, but I have still not yet decided.  I think I’ll be more swayed to write if this election goes a particular way. Here’s to HOPE.

Music and Memories

Some people say that your sense of smell is the sense closest connected to your memory.  Some scientists would agree.  To me, one of the strongest memory triggers is the flash of a few notes of a great song.  Music, for me, does more than just heal my sometimes broken soul when it needs soothing the most.  It’s a time machine that transports me back to places that I had long forgotten I ever visited. It’s unexpected reminders of good times and not-so-good times.  Good music is some pretty powerful stuff.

In the spirit of reminiscing about life through my iTunes, may I present a loose musical timeline of my life:

4th Grade = Bought my first CD, “Bleach” by Nirvana. Also first concert, Alanis Morissette. I remember ice-skating parties with lots of Green Day’s “Dookie” blasting.

5th Grade = Weird Al, The Presidents of the United States of America, TLC.

6th Grade = Whichever rap was cool at that moment.  Middle school was rough.

7th Grade = Barenaked Ladies “Stunt” album.  Only the die-hards could sing all the words to “One Week.”

8th Grade = First exposure to Outkast (who I’ve grown to adore), Beck, Fatboy Slim.  Eminem’s “My Name Is” was brand new hotness.  I remember yelling out the bleeped dirty words at the 8th-grade dance.

9th Grade = Punk rock madness. Fenix TX, NOFX, A New Found Glory, etc.  It went along with my “skater” persona. I used to skateboard?? Damn right.

10th Grade = Incubus (saw them live that year), old Nelly Furtado (Not the stuff you hear in the clubs. She used to make some really beautiful music) and first dose of Radiohead. And lots of Bjork too.  My artsy friends hooked it up with the unknown tunes.

11th Grade = One word. Coldplay.

12th Grade = Classic Rock 100%. Getting my Led out all day, every day.

Freshman year of college = My love for non-Top-40 hits takes off.  Listening to The Postal Service will forever bring me back to the days of sitting at my desk in my dorm on the third floor of Rawlings Hall, windows open, listening to the RTS city buses pull in and out of the service drive.  First time I heard Jack Johnson, Gavin DeGraw, Death Cab for Cutie, The Shins. I was all about the Garden State Soundtrack.

Sophomore year of college = Dave Matthews Band.  I guess that fits into the “cliche” category. Saw him live at the O’Dome. Crappy seats, awesome tunes.

Junior year of college = Roommates played a big role that year in what I listened to.  Got my first taste of country that I actually liked in Rascal Flatts. Mary reminded me how awesome Third Eye Blind was during a road trip. Saw Jimmy Buffett and Steve Miller Band live, among others.

Senior year of college = Anything and everything that is awesome.  Fall in Gainesville of senior year was Radiohead’s “In Rainbows” on repeat when I walked to and from the bus stop. Kanye West’s “Graduation” when I worked out. Lots of indie stuff on nights with bottles of wine. Band Marino, The Avett Brothers, Band of Horses, The Format, etc.

I don’t know what my brain would contain in the absense of exposure to all the songs and artists that are now engrained in who I am.  I wonder if that’s what musicians hope to achieve within their fans.  To have their melodies and lyrics weaved permanently into the intricacies of life.  If so, mission accomplished.

The Sun Sentinel tells Brendan’s story

None of us who know Brendan will ever forget the moment when we heard about his accident. The tale of the ricocheting cars colliding on our familiar South Florida highway and the nightmare that began to unfold, and continues to evolve now, three years later.

Most of us remember Brendan this way -

Brendan’s wonderfully loving and dedicated family now cope with rehabilitating a son that is lost inside his own damaged brain, the result of a crash that broke bones in his face and leg and caused one of his lungs to collapse.  Brendan now lives in a nursing home in Ft. Lauderdale and remains in a vegetative state, or “waking coma.”

Sun Sentinel reporter Tom Collie and photographer Susan Stocker documented the day-to-day struggles that Brendan’s family deals with by compiling their information in a multimedia package to accompany the print story that ran as a special report in Sunday’s paper.  The package contained a cleanly edited five-minute video overview of Brendan’s story, with footage of his rehabilitation, home-video of Brendan before his accident and interviews with several friends and family members.  The most touching one comes from his mom, a cherished friend of the community surrounding my high school (everyone loves Mrs. James), who has remained by her son’s side to this day.  Readers can put themselves in her shoes by reading through the archive of e-mails she has sent over the years, providing detailed updates on Brendan’s condition.  They also included a click-through Flash diagram of different ways the brain can be damaged from excessive force from traumatic events like car accidents.

It would be difficult to remain un-biased in a critique of this package.  I was so pleased at the job the Sentinel did with the story of such a beloved friend.  By including the various multimedia features they did Brendan justice by using the right tools to tell his story in the most complete way.

(photos by Susan Stocker)