She's a saucy girl

For anyone who isn't aware, Journalism is a highly romanticized career. 

I think when I imagine myself as a journalist I'm picturing the roar, boom and glamour of 1920s and 40s America, with the flappers and the cool hats that have little cards in them printed with the word "Press" and young dirty boys selling papers on the corner. I have a little notebook and glasses. I'm ruthless and fast-talking, a cigarette comfortably tucked into the corner of my mouth. I think I got a lot of that from Citizen Kane...

In reality, journalism is sitting at your desk typing away, making phone call after phone call, and trying to make deadline. It's a lot of work for very little pay off. And a lot of people don't call you back. That being said, I will not send out thanks and good vibes to everyone who has called me back. All this, and I'm only doing an internship for the paper's Special Sections. This isn't even news journalism.

I think I'm beginning to learn that journalism may have seduced me into an abusive relationship that I'm afraid to extract myself from. I think what I want to be is a writer. Let's not kid ourselves; most people don't care who wrote the articles when they browse through the paper. I'm a little selfish. I want to work to be about me too. I want the stories to be mine. I want the style to be distinctly mine. 

And so, if I can break out, maybe I'll try to go back to my past love, Creative Non-Fiction. The affair was brief and intense, but oh so sweet.