Today we premiered "i.e.: NPR in other words," an entirely intern-produced multimedia presentation. I put in a lot of work, but a few others put in even more and I'm proud to be part of the extremely talented team that pulled it all off. More reflection on that later.

In the mean time, I urge you to check out the show at www.npr.org/internedition/fall09.

My story "Men of Craft" can be seen, and heard, here.

If you don't have 30 minutes to spare, cruise on through to individual stories and bios. The whole page should be a visual treat!

Finally, keep an eye out for new Gitnerblog posts in the near future. My time is mine again soon... well, more than before, and I'll be returning to the blogosphere.

Thanks for reading as always.

Believe it or not, my life has not changed since my New York Times microfame. I am still uninsured (although this is supposedly changing soon according to eHealthInsurance.com), and I'm still working hard to make a living. I was very tickled, though, that some people noticed my mention on their own! Thanks. I've continued to neglect Gitnerblog in favor of my duties as Blog Editor at NPR, but I just posted my second blog post for NPR's i.e. blog. Check it out here or read the except below.

“I’m scared.” Sometimes I say this out loud to myself before I go to bed. Not every night, of course. “I’m scared” is not my peculiar version of bedtime prayer. (I don’t do that either.) I just say it out loud to address the elephant in the room, to quell the fear.

So what am I scared of? I’m scared of what comes next and where I’ll end up. I’m not referring to the afterlife. I mean… what will I be doing in a few months? Where will I be living?

Roughly five months ago I graduated from college, and I could only find temporary work. To complement that, I found temporary housing in an eccentric group house in Georgetown. “Eccentric” is potentially too kind a word for the house I lived in. It was messy, and I shared my space with both mice and cockroaches, as well as the occasional hippie house guest. “How many hippies are sleeping on the floor today?” my roommate would ask me. We would even bet on it some mornings. My situation wasn’t ideal, but I felt some comfort in the consistency of things–even if it was just hippies sleeping on the floor. Then that arrangement expired.

Continue reading at NPR's i.e. blog...