Clash

Media personalities are an interesting aspect to the program I’m currently bungling my way through. We’re a unique bunch, I’ll give us that. High school grads, fresh faced, irresponsible and full of surprises, current active members of the press, drunk on the power of information and the right to wield and disperse in the manner they see fit, biology majors who feel they have deluded themselves long enough and are learning the art of scientific storytelling, jocks, ex-figure skaters stepping off the ice and experiencing trial by fire, army brats, a bona-fide Hollywood starlet, poli-sci junkies……and me. Age gaps wide enough to drive a truck through and I watch them in wry wonder, remembering when I was their age, how much I thought I knew. The masks are intricate and plentiful, vulnerability is a detriment. There’s no crying in baseball…and all that healthy stuff. Competition is cutthroat; apparently there are only 4 media jobs left in the world so we’d better claw our way there. After all, everyone knows that the second semester of your first year is the key to success in life.

10 classes for the next four months. It’s a good fucking thing I went to university before this, I have a sinking feeling I’ll be relying on the life skills I learned whilst attempting to become something of an artist. Crying while finishing projects at 3am is an acquired skill I’ll have you know. Surviving 9 days on 12 hours of sleep, wearing the same 4 outfits for 6 weeks straight and that whole functioning alcoholic thing….yup. I’m ready.






Oh…..and by the way……

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