Post Subtitle: Why I Could Never Be A Journalist.

In my sophomore year newswriting class we had to go out on campus and investigate a story…any story.  Get quotes, dig up information, find the lead…and we only had two hours to do it.  I took a different approach.  I made stuff up.  Before you judge (oh, too late?), let me set the record straight by saying that this excersize was not for a grade.  Furthermore, I did wind up using the last 15 minutes to grab all the available girls in my dorm, asked them how they felt living on a same-sex floor, and typed up the biggest piece of gobbly gook I’ve ever written in my life.  This excersize did not teach me how to be an investigative journalist.  Rather, it showed me that my desire to be creative, make up characters, and pull quotes out of the sky was WAY stronger than any desire to ask a hungover senior his opinion on the upcoming Spring Weekend festivities.  Oh, you think the university should ease up and that we should be allowed to bring kegs to the parties?  I’M AMAZED!

I started thinking about all of this while thinking about this new online endevor I’ve gotten myself into.  I don’t intend to lie or make things up in these posts, but I can’t guarantee that the thought won’t cross my mind because guess what?  Sometimes…(i’m not that interesting.)  Sometimes the only thing to write about is how long the day feels or how uncomfortable this sunburn is and to me that is just too much like the “wah writing” that I refuse to commit to “paper”.  While I’m tempted to turn this thing into a place where I can stretch my fiction muscles, I promise you, you throngs (12 people) of captivated parisioners (bored office workers) that I will be truthful with this blog.  It will actually be an interesting challenge for me.

Note to self: Be truthful.  Be truthful. Be truthful.

I’ve never seen The Goonies.

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