the end of a chapter

The last couple years of my life scattered all over the floor

I've learned so much from being an editor at The Signal. 

I've been hired, fired and re-hired. I've learned what it means to have an editorial board--and a University of 30,000 people--depending on me to get my work done. I've learned responsibility and commitment, as well as how to contribute to/care about something so much bigger and better than myself. Not to mention, it's taught me a thing or two about journalism. ;) 

As I enter my senior year, my time as an editor has come to an end, but the paper will always hold the defining memories of my undergraduate career. Thank you to my family there, past and present, for every moment. 

xo

adv. media writing final

The capstone project for my Advanced Media Writing class was a two-part news feature story which included a print portion and multimedia portion. I interviewed Georgia State student Manoa Daniel about her experience getting sexually harassed on her way to campus, as well as her experience with a GSU police officer afterwards. Here is the article and virtual tour (video) of her walk: 

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When senior public policy major Manoa Daniel was walking over the Decatur St. bridge to get to class, a person not affiliated with the University exposed himself to her and tried to engage in conversation on Feb. 24. Daniel attempted to report the incident to an officer on campus, but she was instructed to just go to class. She never got the name of the officer.

“The way [the stranger] was positioned towards me, I thought he had a gun to me. I told myself to keep looking up, and if I pretended not to notice, he wouldn’t do anything. I couldn’t run because I was wearing these huge rain boots,” Daniel said.

Daniel recalled the strange man continuing to ask her questions and attempting to get him to look at her. Once she noticed what he was doing, she yelled for him to leave her alone and then clunked off heavily and quickly in her oversized rain boots.

When Daniel ran into the Petit Science Center, security called Georgia State University Police (GSUPD). An officer arrived and asked Daniel what the man looked like, but all she could give him was a ballpark height and a vague description.

“I tried not to look at the guy. I said he was 5-foot-6, 5-foot-7, and he had a navy jacket. He was black with a medium skin tone. But we’re downtown. Black or white, a 5-foot-7-inch guy with a navy jacket? That could be anyone,” she said.

The officer asked Daniel if she wanted to press charges, but she said that if they were to apprehend someone, she wasn’t sure that she would have been able to identify them. She declined.

Officer Willie Johnson, Supervisor of the Crime Suppression Unit at Georgia State, said that protocol was not followed for Daniel’s case. He said that the officer helping Daniel should have gotten all the information he could from her and then contacted other on-duty officers to inform them of the situation. At that point, there would have been at least 10 officers looking for the individual, according to Johnson.

            Unless police officers know for sure that someone is the guilty party, Georgia law doesn’t permit taking an individual from their destination.

“We’d get [Daniel] in the car nonchalantly, pass by the man and say, ‘Hey is that our guy?’ and if she says, ‘Yeah, that’s him,’ we’d radio the officers standing by the perpetrator and say, ‘Hold onto him, she gave a positive ID’,” Johnson said.

They would then get a statement from Daniel and arrest the perpetrator for public indecency and disorderly conduct, according to Johnson—both misdemeanor charges.

            Still inside the Petit Science Center, Daniel looked at the officer and asked, “Well, what do you want me to do? I have an exam, should I just go to class?”

He said, ‘if you wanna go to class, go to class.’

So she walked herself to class and never heard anything about it again.

Daniel said that the officer didn’t recommend that she file a report. GSUPD has jurisdiction of the Georgia State campus as well as a 500-foot circumference around it, which includes the location in which the incident occurred.

“We could have reacted to that,” Johnson said. “Its not [a student’s] responsibility to ask to file a police report. Their responsibility is to report it to the police department.”

Daniel said she wants to see more spread out police presence in areas that are heavily populated by students, even if they are not technically on Georgia State property. She also wants GSUPD to be more concerned about student safety.

“I’d like to see more of a reaction to reports. I don’t want to feel uncomfortable… That officer made me feel guilty for saying anything,” she said.

For a case like Daniel’s, the minimum protocol is to write a police report and title it “Information for other officers.”

“I would have liked for him to report that. I wish he got her name, her ID. That’s not how we do things here. That officer did not do his job,” Johnson said. 

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feature story

I have been neglecting my blog... There are plenty of things to post, but my schedule has been so hectic! I will post photos soon, but in the meantime, enjoy this story I wrote for my feature writing class:

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Jeff Johnson remembers his first taste of alcohol: He was 16, sipping on a warm Pabst Blue Ribbon behind the Senior Wing of his high school.

“It was isolated and away from the rest of the campus. All the seniors would sit back there, smoke joints and drink. I started drinking pretty regularly when I was 16 or 17 years old,” he said.

Fast-forward 20 years—Johnson’s relationship with alcohol became more than playing hooky in high school. He trained for the U.S. Coast Guard in New Jersey in 1976 and then worked in search and rescue and maritime law enforcement in S.C. He later worked for various newspapers there, as well.  With careers in the U.S. Coast Guard and journalism, drinking came naturally and often.

“I had the right environment for a stereotypical, alcoholic lifestyle. I didn’t think of it being out of the ordinary because everyone was doing the same thing,” Johnson said.

He drank steadily for about almost two decades. As time went on, the alcohol slowly began to take a toll.

Johnson went out for a night of casual drinking at the bar with his friends and colleagues after a long workday almost 20 years ago. The night became an initial understanding of what he was doing to himself. 

“I got a pretty good load on that night,” Johnson said. “I remember coming home and I remember waking up the next morning, or afternoon, or whatever it was. And the clothes I had worn the night before were in the middle of the room, soaking wet. I have no idea how that happened…that was the first indication I had before I realized, ‘this isn’t quite right.’”

Johnson was 36 when he had an epiphany that enough was enough.

On Dec. 23, 1994, he had his drink of choice—Seagram 7 and 7—and it ended up being the last time he ever drank a drop of alcohol.

 “I woke up the next day, Christmas Eve, with the worst hangover I’d ever had in my life. I really had thought that I had poisoned myself—maybe I did, I don’t know. It was just bad. I was in bed all day long. All day. And I realized later on when I was feeling a little better, ‘If I don’t stop this, I’m going to die.’”

That moment of clarity was the start of a new lifestyle for Johnson. He didn’t feel that formal rehab was necessary, but instead performed a rehab-esque experiment on himself.

“I did it on my own. What I did instead [of rehab] was I said, ‘I’m going to see if I can go 28 days without having a drink.’ 28 turned to 29, 29 to 30. I stopped counting around 200 or so and haven’t had a drink since,” he said.

            Johnson’s journey towards a healthy lifestyle didn’t stop with quitting drinking. In the summer of 1996, he stopped smoking. He then learned how to be a computer programmer and a photographer, began working out and even practiced yoga. The way he lived his life changed, and as far as relapse goes, Johnson said he’s never been tempted.

“For some people, it’s a daily struggle. I was well on my way to becoming an alcoholic. I’ll occasionally have dreams of drinking and wake up in a panic thinking I’ve relapsed. It’s something I don’t want to go back to. Dreams of drinking are nightmares for me,” he said.

Today, Johnson is a 55-year-old professor who lives with his wife and three cats in Loganville, Ga. Keeping a firm grasp on the reality of relapse has helped him stay sober.

“I have this knowledge that, for me, alcohol is a pipe bomb wired to my transmission. But it only goes off if you put the car in reverse. As long as I keep it in drive, I’m fine. Gotta keep going forward.”