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A Different Breed

light at the end of the tunnel

For the longest time, I dreamt of being a journalist. I wanted to uncover truths and tell people’s stories. I wanted to be a part of the fourth estate.

But after an internship at a London based newspaper, I knew I wasn’t a good fit for it and it wasn’t for me.

If you’ve ever met a journalist, sat down and talked to them, been around their buzzing minds and words, you know they are of a different breed. They are usually highly cynical, very intelligent, read and take in a copious amount of information, and generally make little money.

I’m not talking about your famous TV personalities that read off of a teleprompter. I’m talking about those you never really see, but rather you may read their words, never paying much attention to the byline of the story.

They thrive on words and information. The newsroom is always alive with energy. Their minds are running at 100 miles per hour, trying to get the next best story on their front page.

Just as in all aspects of life, there are great journalists, mediocre journalists, and those in between. We mock them and criticize them, and they may frustrate us to no end. Sometimes, they even lie to us. They are in no way shape or form perfect.

But sometimes, just sometimes, we do get insightful, highly intelligent individuals who tell it like it is through artful composition of words, sentences, and paragraphs. They have a gift that is regularly overlooked and taken for granted.

“The dirty secret: journalism has always been horrible to get in; you always have to eat so much crap to find a place to stand. I waited tables for seven years, did writing on the side. If you’re gonna get a job that’s a little bit of a caper, that isn’t really a job, that under ideal circumstances you get to at least leave the building and leave your desktop, go out, find people more interesting than you, learn about something, come back and tell other people about it—that should be hard to get into. That should be hard to do. No wonder everybody’s lined up, trying to get into it. It beats working.”

RIP David Carr

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One Comment Post a comment
  1. I knew I could never be a reporter either. But I knew this before I even considered it as a major. I had neither the tenacity nor the confrontational nature to make it work.

    February 15, 2015

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