Monday, November 13, 2006

I'm not a specialist, I'm a journalist

Journalism: A line of work that entails submerging one's self in any situation, which happens to peak a personal interest, and putting the facts on paper so to give the public a general idea? So where do I sign up? Objectivity? Bah, I'll just work on that along the way. Throughout junior high school we've had Orwell constantly reminding us that objectivity will only become obsolete. When do we have till? 1984? Shit, I don't see the point in worrying about it now.

Anyways, since I've finished my training in the skills of journalism, I guess my current goal should involve finding a job that's willing to deposit a paycheque into my bank account in exchange for my efforts in writing the English language. I'm having difficulty fulfilling this first-step in all seriousness because I'm still laughing at the concept of choosing this as a career path for myself. Back in the day, if you had told me that I would become a journalist I would have told you, "What? You're the asshole! Wait, what's a journalist again?'
I realize that if I want to enjoy one of the greatest perks of this job (writing about what genuinely interests me) so soon in the game, then I really shouldn't expect to see any money come my way; at least not for a while. This concept doesn't bother me as of yet.

So this is my blog and I'm not trying to pass it off as some form of journalism; come-on, it's my blog for Christ's sake. But I hope it serves as a useful platform that gives me some sort of incentive to practice my writing because if I plan on writing for the rest of my life I better get off my ass and actually start doing it. I admit, I've had some trouble in following this principle and I guess this blog can be compared to an obese man putting on the track suit for the first time and going for that run at four in the morning. Sure this metaphor might get side-tracked along the way, but it will be a hell of an adventure because neither he nor passing spectators know where he'll go next. I will, however, try to pass this blog off as an experiment because I really don't know where I want to take it: whether to write long-winded, pretentious essays about anything that troubles me, or whether to to make a blog that's true to the sense of the word. Hell, I might just decide to regale you with the most gratuitous aspects of my life; maybe hire myself a stenographer so I can post all those morning conversations I have with my bathroom mirror. It's MY blog and if you don't like it then go fly a kite... and after you're done flying that kite, go fuck yourself - just kidding, calm down.

I feel like I should state, with all sincerity and hopefully without exposing an inferiority complex, that I'm not expecting to write anything all that insightful. Not enough to justify distracting anyone from downloading old, shitty sitcoms (that last comment wasn't mean to be derogatory. I still find myself captivated by how fast the cast of Of Wonder Years grew up before my very eyes.) I'd also like to add, without exposing a superiority complex, that I'm writing this for myself; for the sake of actually having a collection of written material.

Wow, with all this talk about personality traits you'd think that I was writing this for the sake of inadvertently resolving some kind of traumatic childhood. Not to worry folks. While this might turn into nothing but vainglorious tripe, I promise you it won't turn into some sort of cry-for-help. I assure you, the only person who touched me as a child was myself.

On that note I would like to take the time to sit back, think about the future and imagine myself becoming the ultimate journalist: having the credentials of Haroldo Rivera, the substance dependency of Hunter S. Thompson and the teenage heart-throbbing good looks of Walter Cronkite.