I must be the queen of the re-evaluation. I am decisive, but unafraid to change my mind mid sentence.
I don’t want to change my mind about journalism. There is so much I love about it. There is so much that seems to suit me, and me to suit it. But there are negatives, recently discovered reservations that pick at my subconscious and surface when I long to sleep.
It is not just the suspicion that I may not be a good enough writer, talker, thinker, agitator… although these take center stage in every journalism class and project I attempt.
I am concerned about how journalism may change me as a person. Let’s face it, in terms of public reputation journalists come just above used car salesman and a little below pond scum. Who am I to say this reputation is unwarranted? They say Clark Kent would never have made it in journalism. They say an interview has three stages: flirtation, seduction and betrayal. What if that line becomes so very blurry that I lose it altogether?
Then there is the fact that journalism, at least in terms of a career choice, may not survive the next decade. Fairfax sacked 550 journalists last year. The internet is good news for free speech but when you can get the news for free, investigative, impartial, paid journalism slowly dissolves. I worry about democracy. I worry about the concentration of knowledge in the hands of the very few to the cost of the many. I worry that Prime news will become the extent of our information exposure.
If I should be so lucky to secure a job, what will I have to do to keep it? Journalism does not seem to offer the perfect work/life balance. Include the erosion of advertising and the diminishing workforce and either I am earning less than my current part-time wage in a full time position, or I never go home. Never see my family, for whom I am working in the first place.
I get it, the world is imperfect. Those things that make life worth living like relationships and sleep are delegated to those few hours we might have left after all the money-earning is complete. It is as if when I chose to spend the rest of my life with Michael I was simply choosing to devote dinner-time to him, while I spend the rest of my time with people who were not of my choosing. I should have a ceremony when I join the work force full time.
I am running out of steam here and the future seems so wearying. I need to keep my passion, my innocent excitement, else how can I go on? I need motivation to work hard at something that will keep me away from my husband and future children, yet will at least keep them alive. I long for heaven, where everything is worthwhile and beautiful. I also fear it as I don’t know if my earthly family will matter to me at all. If I will even recognise them.
I’ll wind up here. My pointless words have become bitter and I hate that. I want to share only good things with the world. I’m sorry.