Save the font, save the paper

I'm a huge Heroes fan. I don't even admit that coyly. I love it.

As all nerds who are obsessed with something know, you start to relate to the characters. I wish I had a super power.

Then you start to become disillusioned with reality. Wait a minute. . . I do have a super power.

I really do, though.

I, Kevin Jeffers, am the master of fonts.

Over the summer, while the Chanticleer was out of print, I worked tirelessly on redesigning the paper. No pay, no official training on the ways of newspaper design (yes, I include the joke of a class that is Publication Design).

Just me, my Mac and a dream -- make the Chanticleer look like a real newspaper and not like a middle school paper like it has in the past.

Or like Nick Nolte's mugshot (props to BHoll for the simile).

After Chris found a way to download the Linotext font for free and I played with other fonts some more, it became obvious.

Less is more.

Two fonts. Times, Helvitica.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Simple, right? You'd think so. But that simple of a notion never occured to previous editors (I base this on the one year I spent around the paper prior to this year). Last year's paper was a parade of fonts.

So there's only one explanation.

Fonts are my super power. I eliminated unnecessary fonts, like a hero.

Save the font, save the paper.

Mission accomplished.

Oh and last night I used Courier New, 14-point font (because it's the biggest font available) to write my research paper. I think cutting corners might be my second super power. . .

To be continued. . .

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While I sit here in my apartment eating my Cuban sandwich from La Mariposa, sipping on my beverage from Java Jolt and wishing upon all the stars that I lived in the Grove (or Jacksonville Place, they're both the tops!), I'd like to get one thing I don't like about the newspaper business off my chest.

Printed news is driven by advertising (ROTC is awesome).

Over at The Chanticleer, we're limited to only eight pages a week or so because that's all the advertising will pay for.

Most publications will bow down to their advertisers, but not us (ROTC is awesome).

Sure, we ignored obvious story ideas about how the Grove wasn't close to being habitable by the time school started. And how several students' parents had impending lawsuits with the company if their kids weren't in the apartments by the time September came. And how we've heard nothing but complaints from the people who live in there (no hot water, anyone?).

But we didn't think there was much of a story there...

Yeah, that's it.

*twittle thumbs*

Man, I want something to eat. What do I want?...

Deeeelicious.

I'm a tool.

Reading, wRiting and Running

I'm a terrible writer. And I'm getting fat and I'm lazy.

I'm starting to put all the pieces together and see that may all be related.

Monday morning I decided to get up and go for a run. This on only four hours of sleep. The running trail at Henry Farms at 7 a.m. is a nice, refreshing site.

The same day I decided to walk to class instead of fighting traffic for twenty minutes to travel half a mile. My calves were screaming with pain. My calves used to be my strong point.

While my still-sore-on-Thursday bones are telling me that so much exercise in one day after months of so little was a terrible, terrible mistake, I can honestly say that it was worth it.

While I'll hardly lose that five extra pounds after one day, it taught me something at least. I'm a poor writer because I don't put myself out there enough.

Every storyteller worth his weight in quills will tell you that you have to know as much as you can about the world around you. That includes nature, like on the running trail, or getting to know the other foot travelers to and from classes. Seriously, I met at least three people in between Self and Merrill Halls with stories that could be told.

If I want to tell those stories, I have to get my lazy butt up.

Here at The Chanticleer, we're in the middle of a four-part series addressing student health issues at JSU. Brandon Hollingsworth wrote a great story on sleeping habits this week. In a couple of weeks, I will be examining dietary habits and obesity.

I'm hardly the only college student who considers these issues to be problematic.

Maybe if I can get those health issues going in the right direction for myself, my writing will follow suit.

The road ahead

is long, indeed.

Melting our cares (and candy) away

I still don't really know what to put in this space. But the other day, without sleep because I had to lay out the F'n (sorry, Hank) paper, I was a little inspired.

Chris, Matt and I (not pictured. Because I was taking the picture. Stupid.) were pretty bored in the Chanty office.

So, we decided to melt the gummy bears Toni bought in the microwave.

Brandon explained to us how microwaves work or something. We weren't really listening. But you can read more on the wunderz of science in his Saturday blog.

We decided to mate the bears (Matt looks particularly happy about it.)

Lol.

When two become one.

Green bear: "WTF?! We're all gonna die!1!>XO"

He was right.

White and Yellow bear wander into Styrofoam Forest to see the the carnage.

Only to meet the same fate.

Pretty soon all of Gummy Bear Village makes the fatal mistakes of Red, Orange, Green, White and Yellow bears.

And genocide ensues.

Then for no real reason at all we added chips, coffee, sweet and sour sauce, sugar and fake baby blood .

And microwaved it. The smell was the best part.

The end.