Journalism and I have a love, hate relationship.
When I love it, it hates me.
When I hate it, it still hates me.
Yes, journalism and I decided to take a break, but we had problems putting distance between us.
My three roommates studied journalism.
One roommate was the managing editor for the school paper.
Another was the news editor for the school paper.
The other was a writer for the school paper.
…They persuaded me to be a columnist for the school paper.
Journalism was ALWAYS around, and everyone loved it.
Most of the people I associated with studied “J”. At every meal, party, or night out- journalism was the topic of discussion. I couldn’t escape it. Every time my friends mentioned something “off the record” I’d roll my eyes and cringe in disgust.
My friends always asked if they could interview me regarding topics from healthcare, to what I think about Valentine’s Day. They asked me to edit their stories, distribute the school paper, film their standups, and carry their tripods. I babysat Harry Forestell’s kids, the news anchor for CBC Fredericton. And I once shared a chip bowl with Todd Battis, the Atlantic Bureau Chief for CTV National News in Halifax.
People didn’t believe me when I told them that journalism and I couldn’t make it work. They always said I was a journalist at heart. I said we weren’t compatible.
At one point, journalism and I were happy. I wanted to take our relationship to the next level.
I watched The National religiously.
I once dressed up as Peter Mansbridge for a class presentation.
I wrote a thoughtful note to Peter Mansbridge-on a napkin. He wrote back.
I took one journalism class at St. Thomas, where I mastered the art of drawing pretty flowers on my notebook.
I watched All the President’s Men-the book was too long.
I practiced my interview skills in front of the mirror with my hairbrush.
People often asked why I didn’t take journalism.
I didn’t need it. I had my French boys.
But truthfully, I was scared of it. I was scared of us.
I still am.
After I graduated from St. Thomas, I moved back to Winnipeg where I was accepted into the Creative Communications Program at Red River College.
In the CreComm program, I unwillingly took journalism classes. But over time, our love for one another rekindled. I tried to resist, but it demanded my attention. I was forced to interview, write stories, and eliminate adjectives from my writing.
It wasn’t until I practiced the art of interviewing and story telling, that I realized journalism is essential. It’s a noble profession that journalists don’t get enough credit for.
Two weeks ago, I majored in J.
I want to tell meaningful stories through the written word. A lot of work goes into one story, but it can go a long way.
A story helps us relate and learn from one another. It’s needed to keep us informed, and improve the state of humanity.
Secretly, I’ve always had a bit of a thing for J.
Journalism and I are like Peter Mansbridge and his ties. We fit together, and nothing can keep us apart.