What senators say about health care

As a copy editor, I’ve learned that a lot of writing comes down to simple word choice. Same holds true in politics. One word in place of another, or one word repeated over and over, holds immense power. In the ongoing debate over health-care reform and its implementation, senators’ manifestos hold keys to their stances, priorities and plans.

Below are two Wordle creations, using the text of 10 U.S. senators’ health-care manifestos on their Web sites. Each Wordle represents the top 50 words found in the manifestos, compiled together. One Wordle is from the text of five Democratic senators, and the other is from the text of five Republican senators. The words “health” and “care” were removed beforehand from both composites. Without scrolling below (read: cheating), can you guess which Wordle belongs with which party?

The top Wordle belongs to the Republican senators, and the bottom Wordle belongs to the Democratic senators. (Republicans: Tom Coburn, Sam Brownback, Jon Kyl, Richard Shelby and Olympia Snowe. Democrats: Claire McCaskill, Harry Reid, Debbie Stabenow, John Kerry and Mark Udall.)

Were you right? If not, why do you think you missed it? And if you were right, what words clued you in?

Wordle only tells part of the story. It measures frequency, not context. And you’ll notice a substantial amount of overlap in the words — insurance is the most-used word of both parties, and Americans is a word both also use liberally.

I have to say that the word that jumped out at me most was Medicare. It’s one of the “medium” words in the Republican word cloud, but is the second- or third-most used word in the Democratic cloud, more used even than Americans. Further combing suggests that Republicans are likelier to discuss the process and risks of the legislation — bill, senate, congress, increase, legislation — while Democrats are likelier to tout their legislative success and specific actions — Medicare, coverage, seniors, businesses, ensure. I thought it was interesting that words like coverage, seniors and affordable had about the same amount of usage by both parties.

What do you think each Wordle says about the parties and their health-care stances?

Into “The Pacific”

If you have HBO and aren’t yet watching “The Pacific,” I highly recommend it.

I watched “Band of Brothers” on HBO when it aired eight and a half years ago, right before the Sept. 11 attacks. I remember it feeling larger than life, sprawling and “important.” On the other hand, I also remember losing track of the characters and having a difficult time forging connections with many of them, just because of how many of them there were.

“The Pacific” succeeds in that area where “Brothers” faltered. Rather than following an entire company, “The Pacific” focuses on three specific men: Robert Leckie, John Basilone and Eugene Sledge. That makes it feel much more intimate and personal. It’s easier to become engaged in and committed to the three men, who are all interesting and unique in their own ways.

It also helps that the three leads (James Badge Dale, Jon Seda and Joe Mazzello, respectively) have all so far been pretty outstanding. You’ll probably find yourself favoring one guy above the others, and for me it’s Badge Dale, whose Leckie is smart, cynical, ornery, just a shade less than insane and deeply poetic. (For my film geek friends, Badge Dale played a significant role in the elevator scene at the end of “The Departed;” yes, that elevator scene. He’s also quite cute and may follow me on Twitter at any time.)

Speaking of film geekery, if Joe Mazzello looks vaguely familiar, it’s because he played little Timmy in “Jurassic Park” back in 1993. And for my fellow “Eurotrip” lovers (it’s one of my favorite guilty pleasures), try to spot Jacob Pitts, aka Cooper, among the Marines in Leckie’s company.

The series is about halfway done. Guadalcanal, Melbourne, Cape Gloucester and Pavuvu are behind, while Peleliu, Iwo Jima, Okinawa and the endgame are ahead. Even knowing what happens, who lives and who dies, I’m eager to see how it unfolds.

I make no secret of being a military history enthusiast, and WWII in particular. It’s something I can share with my dad — we’re watching the show together — and I believe it’s something people my age know appallingly little about. In the end, though, I don’t read and watch WWII material out of patriotism or duty or anything like that. At its heart, it’s a series of great stories that need to and deserve to be told. And I’m a sucker for good stories.

“The Pacific” airs new episodes at 9 p.m. ET/8 p.m. CT Sundays on HBO. Older episodes are available on demand, and repeats air throughout the week. April 11 will be the show’s fifth episode of 10. Here’s the official trailer from HBO.

If you’re interested in reading more about the individual men, you can pick up “Helmet For My Pillow,” written by Leckie, and “With The Old Breed,” written by Sledge. Right now I’m reading “Guadalcanal Diary,” by embedded journalist Richard Tregaskis. There’s plenty of good reading material out there.

Semper fi.

UDK Blues

I spent all four years of my undergraduate career working for The University Daily Kansan in some capacity. One year, I was more than 4,000 miles away from the newsroom, but never missed a column-submission deadline. I spent a year and a half on the editorial board and participated in the endorsements of two Student Senate coalitions. I’ve placed headlines, written headlines and posted headlines to the Web.

My most memorable experiences involved my friends. Press Club, Barn Party, LNOP, potluck night, trips to Power & Light, random meet-ups in coffee shops and crowding together in the editors’ office to eat a quick dinner before budget meetings are all memories that make me smile. Friends, more than anything, made the Kansan what it was.

Part of the reason I was able to devote so much time to the Kansan was because I was paid. I would’ve worked at the Kansan for nothing, but my $7.50 hourly wage helped me pay the bills without having to take on a second job. I’m honestly not sure I would’ve had time to take a second job. My senior year, as a managing editor, I was comped 26.5 hours per week. All told, my “real” hours were easily 35-40 hours. Combine that with 18 credit hours (I was a triple major) and non-paying newsroom shifts for my classes, and  I would not have been able to give the Kansan the attention it deserved without some compensation.

I’ve used my Kansan experience and clips to land three internships at large U.S. papers, and it was also beneficial in applying to graduate school. Beyond being fun, it was hands-on newsroom experience and a way to actually become a working journalist before I graduated. Limiting Kansan leadership to the sleep-deprived, the credit-hour-deprived or the independently wealthy would potentially rob School of Journalism students not only of their campus jobs, but also of future jobs.

So I admit to feeling incredibly angry and disappointed to learn that the Student Senate finance committee has voted to cut the Kansan’s money from student fees. Senate is under some delusion that “they” pay for the Kansan’s media fee, when actually it’s paid for by students and only funneled through Senate. Whatever bizarre reasoning has been posed, it all seems to boil down to Senate brass not liking the Kansan’s coverage.

The Kansan is not the New York Times. It’s a learning tool and a place to get our feet wet. The (incorrect) comparison was that it’d be akin to Congress funding the Times. I assume from that  rationale that Congress would also be OK with not receiving taxes from the Times. Right.

According to a Student Press Law Center official, what the Student Senate is doing is not only stupid but illegal. Tonight’s vote means that the proposal goes to full Senate later this month, despite the fact that the student body (which Student Senate purports to represent) has already voted by referendum to keep this exact fee. The money itself, when divided up among every student, is a pittance, roughly $.02 a day, which makes this exercise all the more ridiculous. It’s more about principle than money in the end: Student Senate is threatening to cut off a student newspaper because of dissatisfaction with its coverage.Anyone who values a free press should squirm at the thought.

However, it’s sad that so many of us who devote so much time and effort to the paper are going to have to suffer through salary, staff and content cuts just to feed someone else’ ego. I’m confident, though, that we’ll prevail in the end. The Kansan’s been around since 1904. What’s so special about these people?

Lily and I

As I write this, a soft snoring emanates from a dog kennel behind me. Lily’s asleep, finally.

Two weeks ago last Sunday, I picked Lily up from the Lawrence Humane Society. She’s a 7-month-old puggle, a pug/beagle mix. She’s adorable and she’s ornery as hell.

When I researched the puggle hybrid, I found that they tend to have the beagle’s energy and love of tracking combined with a pug’s sweetness and obstinance. If Lily (or “Lily Pad,” as I call her, because her security toy is a stuffed frog) is anything, it’s obstinate.

In another week or so, Lily and I will be heading to puppy training class at Petsmart. Lily’s made great progress so far. She can sit and shake, is finally recognizing her name and is juuust about housetrained. We definitely need to work on some obedience and chewing issues.

Lily

Lily. Looking far more innocent than she actually is.

Compared with some horror stories I’ve read about puggles, Lily’s a breeze. However, she does have her little idiosyncracies. She loves chewing on the rocks from my mother’s tree pot in the living room. Lily might be sleeping in her bed at one moment and chewing through it in the next.

The biggest mystery of her behavior is, bar none, her FRAPs. What’s a FRAP? I had no idea until I researched it after Lily had already had several. Basically, a FRAP is a Frenetic Random Activity Period. In layman’s term, the puppy (and it’s almost always almost-adult puppies) goes bat guano insane for a few minutes, running furiously throughout the house, jumping on furniture and generally expelling energy.

Now that the weather is getting nicer, we can take Lily outside more and for more walks. I’m hoping her class helps her (read: me) with some of her behavioral issues.

I’ve thought, “What the heck was I thinking?” several times since we’ve gotten her. It’s usually after she’s had a FRAP or when I’ve had to take her outside to do her lady business at like 4 a.m. Then she cuddles up to me on the couch or does something cute and I forget all about it.

Sadly, I think she’s probably MY alpha.

Preparing for the puppy

This Saturday, I’ll be taking home my new puppy. After submitting a general adoption application to the Lawrence Humane Society and visiting the shelter last weekend, we picked out a 6-month-old puggle (pug/beagle mix) female. We’re ditching her shelter name and calling her Lily.

I’ve spent the past four or five days researching puppy behavior, training and crating. Seriously, at times I’ve thought, “This has got to be what it’s like having a baby.”

We’re making a trip to Petsmart to pick out her crate, toys, food, water dish, an ID tag, collar and other incidentals. My mother and I are spending Saturday, Sunday and Monday training her and getting her used to the house and the crate.

I’m glad I did research before getting her home. I want to give Lily plenty of structure and discipline, and we’re going to try to simulate pack behavior. She needs to learn how to walk properly (beside or behind us, never in front), when to eat (only when we give her food), where to potty (only in the yard), when to enter the house or a room (only after we do) and when she can get on our laps or the couch (only when we give her permission). The hardest part will be treating her like a dog, not a human.

My father’s kind of under the impression that this is draconian and will lead to an unhappy puppy, but I’m trying to convince him that a happy puppy is a calm puppy and one who knows her place in the “pack” (our family). I’m more worried about him slipping (sneaking her “people” food, letting her on his lap without permission) than I’m worried about her misbehaving. I’m also trying to convince him that a yipping, hopping, excited dog is an anxious and insecure dog, and that the “excitement” doesn’t mean the same thing it does in the human sense. I told him that Lily should signal happiness by acting calm, submissive and quiet, and he made some quip about her being “a stick in the mud.” Oh he’ll learn.

A lot of this will be down to trial and error, and I’m sure my patience will be tested. I’m just excited to get my sweet little girl home and have her get adapted to her new home.

Oscars like it’s 1997

It’s my favorite time of year: Oscar season.

It’s already hard not to think of 1997 when examining the slate of 2009 Oscar contenders, mostly because James Cameron is back on the radar with Avatar. (Full disclosure: If you haven’t seen Avatar yet, go see it. Now. That means you, Mother.)

But when I saw that The Hurt Locker had won the National Society of Films Critics prize for Best Picture, I realized that each of the “big five” films this year has an uncanny pairing of sorts to a 1997 Best Picture nominee. While there are 10 slots this year for Best Picture, five really stand out: Up in the Air, Avatar, The Hurt Locker, Precious and Inglourious Basterds.

1. Up in the Air = As Good As It Gets

Up in the Air and As Good As It Gets are both fairly intimate character studies and actors’ films. There’s no CGI spectacle in either of them, and both received recognition mostly for their acting. George Clooney looks very likely to win Best Actor, similar to how Jack Nicholson won for As Good As It Gets. While Up in the Air has no lead actress (Helen Hunt won for As Good As It Gets), Anna Kendrick and Vera Farmiga will likely receive supporting nominations. The Best Actress prize is likely to be replaced with an Adapted Screenplay prize for Up in the Air.

2. Precious = Good Will Hunting

Precious, like Good Will Hunting, is a rise-above-adversity story, detailing the life of a struggling young person who receives support and guidance from mentors and works to improve her lot in life. Similar to how Good Will Hunting received a Best Supporting Actor prize for Robin Williams, Precious’ marquee award will likely be Best Supporting Actress for Mo’Nique. It’s unlikely to win the Adapted Screenplay award, though (Good Will Hunting had a second win for Original Screenplay).

3. Inglourious Basterds = The Full Monty

Inglourious Basterds is fabulous, beautifully done and brilliant. It’s also bawdy, bent and perverse, which makes it a good soul mate for The Full Monty, another blackish comedy that was beloved but doomed to play as an also-ran. The Full Monty took home an Oscar for Best Score, and Inglourious Basterds looks likely to win Best Supporting Actor for Christoph Waltz and possibly Original Screenplay for Quentin Tarantino.

4. The Hurt Locker = L.A. Confidential

L.A. Confidential was probably the best film of 1997, just like The Hurt Locker was probably the best film of 2009. Both received numerous critics’ prizes, and both had comparatively low grosses at the box office. L.A. Confidential had only about $30 million going into Oscar season (it grossed about double that during the winter/spring awards season) and The Hurt Locker grossed only about $12 million during its theatrical run (Summit might re-release it in a few cities in late January or February for Oscar-campaigning purposes). Yet despite its critical success, L.A. Confidential managed to win only two Oscars: Best Supporting Actress for Kim Basinger and Best Adapted Screenplay. The Hurt Locker seems likely to take home Best Editing and possibly even Best Director for Kathryn Bigelow (making her the first woman to win the prize). But its weak theatrical run looks likely to hamstring it when it comes to the big win.

5. Avatar = Titanic

This isn’t just because both are James Cameron films. Avatar, like Titanic, is getting too big to be ignored. It also has been mostly passed over for early critics’ prizes and looks likely to win the lion’s share of technical awards. Titanic won Best Picture (and Best Director) without winning an acting award (it was nominated for two) or even being nominated for Original Screenplay. Avatar is likely to face the same hurdles (no Best Picture winner has ever taken the prize with no acting or screenplay nominations). Most of the major awards (acting, screenplays, possibly editing and director) will go to other films, just like in 1997. But it’s still the biggest thing out there now, like Titanic was, and it’s not slowing down.

Spooky, isn’t it?

Paris on my mind

In exactly 256 days (give or take a day, depending on when we book our flight), I’ll be on my way back to London, which, I maintain, is the greatest city in the world.

Yet for the past week or so, its cousin across the Channel has been relentlessly popping up everywhere. Yes, it’s that “other” city: Paris.

Arc de Triomph in Paris

All told, I spent about a week in France, five days of which were in Paris. My first night there was pretty miserable — it was dark, cold, rainy, and what little French I knew escaped me. I remember finding my way around the train station with my friends by reading the signs in German.

Now though, that first frustrating night is kind of an inside joke, and my Parisian memories are more pleasant. Chocolat au pain for breakfast, and crepes in the afternoon. Seeing the Mona Lisa at the Louvre and work by Van Gogh, Renoir, Monet, Cezanne and Toulouse-Lautrec at the Orsay. Perfume shopping, lunch in the Tuileries and going to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

That was in March 2007. I haven’t been back to Paris since then, but I’ve often thought about it, even though Britain has gotten most of my attention.

My mother has always loved Paris and I hope to take her there some day. I called her from Paris on her birthday that year, and told her about it. She’s decorated our living room — it’s more like a parlor — in kind of an eclectic European style. We have posters with French text, English and French decorating books, a little wooden lorrie, a dish with coins from all over the world and my postcards in a display on the wall.

For Christmas this year, I ordered black and white prints of three of my Paris photos and made them into a triptych for my mother. Looking through all my photos made me realize how much I’d enjoyed Paris and how much I wanted to go back.

The Sacre Coeur

When I read that the Eurostar line (which runs from Waterloo Station in London and has connections in Paris and Brussels) had closed indefinitely, I wondered if I’d have to fly into Charles de Gaulle instead of take the train to Gare du Nord. It was then that I knew that going back was a serious consideration.

New Year’s Eve brought two separate references to Paris, and I wondered if they might be omens.

I watched Revolutionary Road with my parents and saw Frank and Alice Wheeler’s giddy excitement as they planned to dump Long Island’s mundane suburbia for a life in Paris.

After midnight, I watched the series finale of Sex & the City on TBS. The two-parter shows Carrie moving to Paris with her Russian boyfriend. Seeing Carrie trip over her French and wander around aimlessly looking at museums and bookstores reminded me of myself — sans Mikhail Barishnikov. Of course Carrie got her happy ending in Paris when Mr. Big came to get her.

London, obviously

London, obviously

Finally, during It’s Complicated, which I saw today, Meryl Streep described living and studying in Paris to Steve Martin while she made him some incredibly yummy-looking chocolate croissants.

It seems like there have been a large number of Paris-themed developments these past few days. I’m not sure if there really has been such an increase, or if I’m just noticing it more, or if it’s a coincidence. I do know that it all just makes me want to go back to Paris … for the crepes, of course. And the coffee. The cheese. And those delicious smoked-salmon quiche thingies they sell in cafes.

My French class starts in about two weeks. I already know how to say hello, good-bye, thank you, numbers and a few other random phrases. Paris is the last city I want to ever be in where I don’t have a good grasp on the language, so I’m going to make a lot of effort. I hope soon I’m 3-for-3 when it comes to major languages of the EU.

London will always be my first and biggest transatlantic love, but I think I’ll dance with Paris at least one more time.

The Great Puppy Search

Last January, on Kansas Day, we had to put Willy, our 16-year-old Pomeranian, to sleep. It was devastating for my parents and me. We’d had him since he was a puppy, a little ball of fluff. We keep his ashes, leash, tags, photos and other mementos in a box in our family room.

Lately, I’ve been thinking more and more about getting another dog. After talking with my parents, we’ve decided to tentatively start looking for another dog. I had volunteered a few times at the Lawrence Humane Society at KU, and respected their work last year during the animal-cruelty incident. Obviously getting a shelter dog was our first and only option.

I browsed the LHS site and found a lovely little dog, and asked permission from my parents to submit an application for him. Unfortunately (not for him, for me), he’d found another home already. We submitted a general application and are now in the process of finding another little dog.

It’s been a hard year for our family and pets. In addition to Willy, Murphy, my aunt’s sweet little 14-year-old Bichon Frise, died shortly before Christmas. I think a little new blood would do us all good.

While I wait to hear back from a helpful and very friendly member of the LHS staff, I’ve been boning up on house training, crating, obedience trials, harness use, proper diet and separation anxiety. It’s been so long since I’ve trained Willy that I’m a little rusty. I am sure that I want to train the new puppy “right.” I don’t want to encourage begging, chewing and piddling in the house. On my parents’ end, I don’t want my dad to spoil the new puppy by giving it treats without corresponding good behavior. I loved (and still love) Willy to no end, but a month’s worth of tricks training went out the window in one afternoon with my dad and a few bacon treats.

The more I think about how I want the puppy raised, the more I realize that it’s pretty similar to what raising a baby must be like. I want the puppy to be loved but not spoiled, I want to keep it clean and handsome, I want it to like cuddling and go to sleep with a happy tummy and an empty bladder. I want it to be smart, disciplined and loyal.

I can’t wait to get started. Hopefully, I’ll have an update of some sort soon.

A week of holiday sweets

Rather than get presents for family members, my mother and I decided to make everyone goody boxes filled with sweet treats.

Because my mom’s family is mostly German, I  picked out a few German specialties for the boxes.

We baked the first items, Lebkuchen, a week ago, because the cookies need to “set” for a couple of weeks. The word Lebkuchen means “cake of life” auf Deutsch. They’re basically Christmas sugar cookies from Nuremburg. They take ground almonds, cloves, cinnamon and cardamom, and are made with an icing of rum, sugar and egg whites. I thought the icing had a weak rum taste when it was fresh, but a glance at the cookies last night showed me just how much the alcohol has set in — woo.

Yesterday was basic Pillsbury sugar cookie-decorating day, an excuse for my cousins, my aunts, my mother, my grandmother and I to go nuts with icing and sprinkles. We opened up English Christmas poppers and wore the tissue-paper hats all day. Thumbs up. As I type this, a plate of fresh fudge is sitting in the kitchen.

Tomorrow we’re making Berlin Kranzer, which roughly translates to “Berlin wreaths.” They’re little shortbread-like cookies twisted into wreath shapes and garnished with red and green peppermint candies. Tuesday is amaretto brownie day. I didn’t feel like springing for the actual liquer, seeing as I don’t generally care for the stuff, so we’re just using almond extract instead in the brownies and frosting.

I’m excited for Wednesday, even though the cake that day is going to be a challenge. I’m making Aegean cheesecake, using Greek thyme honey and riccotta in place of the more expensive mizithra cheese. We’re also doing the crust from scratch, which could be tricky. Thursday, right before we finally pack up the boxes (we’re also including baggies of chocolate-covered almonds that my dad makes at work), we’re making my piece de resistance: Black Forest cake.

It’s chocolate cake with Kirsch (German cherry brandy) mixed in, between layers of whipped cream and stoned black cherries. I’m going to shave Lindt truffles on top of it and garnish each slice with a fresh cherry. Mmm.

I’ll see what kind of mental shape I’m in by the time Christmas rolls around. I may not want to make anything else, ever. Last night, while talking to one of my overseas friends, I told him all that I was making. His response was something like, “How much cake do you NEED?!”

How much, indeed.

The Writing Bug

My dad suggested that I start writing again the other night, and I’ve been thinking about it. If nothing else, it’ll help keep me productive. It’s something to do. The vast majority of what I’ve written in the past four years has been an academic paper or a news article or an editorial. Some easy fiction might be good for the soul.

I haven’t written much in a while, not since my intermediate reporting class. My work at the Kansan was mostly about editing other people’s work, not producing my own. I wasn’t able to take reporting, mainly because my management position didn’t give me the time (and the paycheck won out, sorry to say).

When I was younger I used to write short little stories all the time, but nothing fictional’s come out in a long time. I don’t like talking about what’s knocking around in my head, mainly because I have this superstition that if I tell someone what I’ve started, I’ll never finish it.

If I had to judge my writing, I’d say my biggest weakness is probably my severity.  I come off as very intense and heavy, and I’d prefer to be more easygoing and colloquial. I think it’ll just take practice, so maybe I should do what my dad suggested and … practice.