Saturday, And The News Is Still On

One day I wondered what it would be like to be a journalist. It was a Wednesday. I met my obligations that day despite entertaining my wonderings. By the end of the day, I added up how much media, created by "professionals", that I had taken in. I listened to forty-five minutes of news/talk radio, which consists of weather, traffic, local news, national news, commercials, and two local hosts making tongue-in-cheek cracks at the headlines. I listen to this program in the morning while taking two of my girls to school; but only when they are too tired to talk, and excluding the days when they want to listen to REM. It is my way of ensuring myself of being "informed".

Only forty-five minutes? Yeah, that's it. It has proven to be sufficient to date. I realized that if you want to know something, your options should not include great quantities of mass media. There is always a message being solicited whether you are conscious of it or not. This media has followed the "combo" strategy that fast-food companies have been so successful with. Apparently people like having decisions made for them for nothing more than convenience.

On the following Thursday morning, I woke up with a metallic taste in my mouth and a dirty feeling that I had been indoctrinated by my news consumption. What would possess me to think of being a journalist? Instead of dwelling on it all day, I decided that I am not qualified. I detest uneccessarily crowded rooms. I also see the difference between fact and fiction, and in journalism the temptation to breed the two must be overwhelming. I picture the pro-creation of the two as incestuous. It would surely create a monster.

Fridays are always great. The girls are sleepy from a long week at school, but I can always get them excited for the weekend. That particular morning, I was resolved to doing the research and follow-ups that people are waiting for. I had shaken the journalist thing off by then, and re-gained my focus. It was an REM morning, so I was able to motivate the kids and myself without any news. Be looking for my essay titled, "The Children Of Dissidents". After completing my trek across the city and back, it was time to work. Before I started writing and sending emails, I checked my Wordpress feed. I forgot that I had followed a blogger who attempts to recycle the media's fiction by adding "factual" commentary. I originally followed this blog because of one post he made, and I didn't use my newshounding skills to investigate past blogs. As it turned out, I was schnookered into the media again. The worst part was the appearance. It looks like a news site, but it isn't. This person also posts a "story" every fifteen minutes as well, so I have a hard time reading the blogs that are consistently good, and that have nothing to do with news. I un-followed that dude on the grounds that incest is a crime.

Saturday begins...  The kids are home, my dog wants to play, and I have to fit my obligations in. Writing is bitter-sweet; I dictate my hours, but I work too much so it spills over into the weekend all the time. As usual, before I begin working, I scroll through WP and my emails. By this time, I was repulsed by anything news related, and subsequently un-subscribed to five different email newsletters. I liked them at some point, but since Thursday, the day I thought about making myself a press-pass necklace, I couldn't take it any more. I was horrified that journalists and the mouths that speak these facts were still working too.

Since then, I have figured out a way to avoid being filled with news. Predictability. It is repetitious. One hour per week is more than enough to stay "informed". Today's media is designed to make you feel full, kind of like fast food. I can feed my kids a happy meal for dinner at five, and they are starving again by seven. The news knows this, and they use the same formula. You can test this theory at home with ramen noodles. It is very inexpensive science. The news is obligated to operate 24/7 in order to prevent any withdrawal symptoms from it's users.

With that said, I hope the next generation of journalists will turn more toward independence, and less toward marketing. After all, facts are useful, but very boring if fiction isn't sleeping with it. From now on, if I write about a current event, you should know that I am not a journalist. My heart is with the people, and my approach will be from that alone. I will pick organizations apart, I will point out stupidity, and I will most likely be cynical of the groups who attempt to indulge their incestuous fantasies of mixing fact and fiction. Have a great weekend.

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