When people find out I'm a fairly recent transplant from Calgary, their first question is usually something along the lines of 'Why did you choose Lloydminster?'
Invariably, I tell them I don't mind it. The job fit what I was looking for, and I suppose I could do a lot worse than a population of 24,000.
But there are still some things that catch me off-guard. Like coffee shops not being open on weekends, Home Hardware not open past six, and the serious lack of radio stations.
For a 22-year-old, I've got what some might call "interesting" taste in music. My childhood summers were spent camping across Canada, in our tent trailer and later fifth wheel, pull by a Jeep and later a '92 Ford truck. The truck only had a tape deck, and before CD adapters (and even after them) I can clearly remember my dad burning CDs to tape before holidays so we had stuff to listen to in the truck.
My dad likes rock. A mix between CJ92 and Q107, and I guess that wore off on me, because I could sing Tracy Chapman's Fast Car and songs by Neil Young by the time I was four.
I was subsequently introduced to the Backstreet Boys, etc., in elementary and junior high, and then they fell out of favour, and I wasn't quite sure what to listen to next. An English project solved that problem. I was introduced to Buddy Holly – and everyone who came after him, and I never looked back.
Top 40 in high school and university? Couldn't tell you — I was too busy listening to what was "top 40" in the 1950s. It became a fun game for friends to try and find a top 40 song I had heard before.
Unfortunately, moving to Lloydminster, I had to give up my oldies radio station (XL103 and Capital FM — AM660 in Calgary used to be an oldies station before they flipped it five years ago, on my birthday, of all things) and have only a couple of choices: country (LloydFM), rock (the Goat), contemporary (WayneFM), some more country AM stations, and similar formats in surrounding communities. I picked Wayne FM because at least they play a little bit of stuff from the 80s, and I even heard La Bamba one time.
Occasionally, I'll stream CapitalFM from Edmonton just because I need a good oldies fix, but I like hearing local news and weather, so I really have no choice but to pick one from above.
And so I'm kind of ashamed to admit that some of the songs I can't stop playing recently include These Kids Wear Crowns' Jumpstart, Train's Save Me San Francisco, and Lady Gaga's Edge of Glory.
But just to be clear, I would still kill for a poodle skirt, and as one friend put it, "If we had to pick one person to go back to the 1950s to save the world, you would be crawling into that time machine before anyone could say anything."
Monday 30 May 2011
Friday 20 May 2011
Dear Mac: a computer love letter
Dear Mac,
We've been together for nearly four and a half years now. I didn't want to meet you at first, thought this relationship would never work. I'd seen you from a distance and heard people talk about you, but I was perfectly happy in my relationship with PC, a distant cousin of yours.
PC and I, we never really had any major problems. Granted, I was willing to cut him a lot of slack, because I'd never been in a relationship like that before. The first time I lived with a computer was in Grade 9.
I heard of friends who had problems in their PC relationship – files were lost, memories erased, or the blue screen of death (also known as the silent treatment). But we never thought about giving up our relationship with the PC we loved, and who gave us everything we needed (usually).
And then I went to university and met you. At first, it was a casual acquaintance. PC and I were slowly being forced apart, but I was still very attached to him, and given the opportunity, would choose him over you. But slowly, that changed. I found your interface much more attractive, and it seemed much more intuitive to figure you out.
Soon, it became difficult to interact with PC. Sometimes, it was a challenge to even turn him on. So the relationship with you intensified. We started spending all hours together. In the second year of our relationship, we moved in together, and our time together often extended long into the night, telling stories about Calgarians or preparing an essay together.
Awkwardly enough, PC was still living under the same roof, but we made it work somehow.
You've always been there when I needed you. You've never corrupted files out of spite, and if you gave me the spinny wheel of death (the silent treatment), it was never for very long. In some instances, I know I've taken advantage of you, yet you never crashed.
Printers haven't always liked our relationship, but the Adobe Creative Suite seems to approve of my relationship with you more than it ever did with PC. (Except that one time in second year. We don't talk about it much, but making me wait four hours to load a Dreamweaver file was not cool.)
So what gives now? You've been very temperamental over the past few weeks. I saw the signs – you were slow waking up in the mornings, and gave me the silent treatment more than once. I took heed and tried to get you the attention you needed, but apparently it was too late. Now that you've recovered slightly, you're still acting out.
I can't be the one in this relationship who handles all the files. I need you to do your part – move the proper elements in InDesign when I ask you to, and not to walk out on me when we're working on an important file.
I love you, I really do. Even last summer, when I could only spend evenings and weekends with you, and had to spend my days working with and being personable to PC, you know that wasn't my first choice. For those who don't approve of our relationship, who thought I was better off with PC, an illustrator acquaintance pointed out that the design work you do with Adobe CS surely requires just as much computing power that a PC does with games.
So let's work this out, OK? Especially, I don't know what's going on between you and the mouse, but you guys need to figure things out and communicate better.
Love,
Me.
Note: It's not just my computer I have this "relationship" with – my car's name is Minnie, (short for Minnie Mouse because she's silver and her side mirrors look like ears) but when I hit a pothole or am trying to coax her to shift gears a little quicker, I usually call her babe. My laptop's name is Peggy Sue, and my GPS used to be Gertrude, until my friend switched the navigator voice. So if anyone has a good name for a GPS with a male Australian voice, I'm taking suggestions.
I think the habit might have started at Jubes – the office has a really temperamental photocopier/printer that was named Stewart. Actually, all items in the office were named, but only Stewart and the name for the paper slicer stuck (kind of). So if you hear Jubes office staff swearing at "Stewart," the printer probably ate a piece of paper again or something.
The habit got to be that I even would encourage the printer in the editors' room in the Comm Centre (and got made fun of for it) even though I never named that printer.
My work computer's name isn't really Mac – I don't actually have a name for him, though Mac might work, short for Mackenzie. Or I'd take other suggestions… originally, he was a silver 21.5" iMac, but lost his tan (i.e. we switched my computer out when that one crashed a few weeks ago) and is now a white 21.5 iMac.
I need to get out more.
We've been together for nearly four and a half years now. I didn't want to meet you at first, thought this relationship would never work. I'd seen you from a distance and heard people talk about you, but I was perfectly happy in my relationship with PC, a distant cousin of yours.
PC and I, we never really had any major problems. Granted, I was willing to cut him a lot of slack, because I'd never been in a relationship like that before. The first time I lived with a computer was in Grade 9.
I heard of friends who had problems in their PC relationship – files were lost, memories erased, or the blue screen of death (also known as the silent treatment). But we never thought about giving up our relationship with the PC we loved, and who gave us everything we needed (usually).
And then I went to university and met you. At first, it was a casual acquaintance. PC and I were slowly being forced apart, but I was still very attached to him, and given the opportunity, would choose him over you. But slowly, that changed. I found your interface much more attractive, and it seemed much more intuitive to figure you out.
Soon, it became difficult to interact with PC. Sometimes, it was a challenge to even turn him on. So the relationship with you intensified. We started spending all hours together. In the second year of our relationship, we moved in together, and our time together often extended long into the night, telling stories about Calgarians or preparing an essay together.
Awkwardly enough, PC was still living under the same roof, but we made it work somehow.
You've always been there when I needed you. You've never corrupted files out of spite, and if you gave me the spinny wheel of death (the silent treatment), it was never for very long. In some instances, I know I've taken advantage of you, yet you never crashed.
Printers haven't always liked our relationship, but the Adobe Creative Suite seems to approve of my relationship with you more than it ever did with PC. (Except that one time in second year. We don't talk about it much, but making me wait four hours to load a Dreamweaver file was not cool.)
So what gives now? You've been very temperamental over the past few weeks. I saw the signs – you were slow waking up in the mornings, and gave me the silent treatment more than once. I took heed and tried to get you the attention you needed, but apparently it was too late. Now that you've recovered slightly, you're still acting out.
I can't be the one in this relationship who handles all the files. I need you to do your part – move the proper elements in InDesign when I ask you to, and not to walk out on me when we're working on an important file.
I love you, I really do. Even last summer, when I could only spend evenings and weekends with you, and had to spend my days working with and being personable to PC, you know that wasn't my first choice. For those who don't approve of our relationship, who thought I was better off with PC, an illustrator acquaintance pointed out that the design work you do with Adobe CS surely requires just as much computing power that a PC does with games.
So let's work this out, OK? Especially, I don't know what's going on between you and the mouse, but you guys need to figure things out and communicate better.
Love,
Me.
Note: It's not just my computer I have this "relationship" with – my car's name is Minnie, (short for Minnie Mouse because she's silver and her side mirrors look like ears) but when I hit a pothole or am trying to coax her to shift gears a little quicker, I usually call her babe. My laptop's name is Peggy Sue, and my GPS used to be Gertrude, until my friend switched the navigator voice. So if anyone has a good name for a GPS with a male Australian voice, I'm taking suggestions.
I think the habit might have started at Jubes – the office has a really temperamental photocopier/printer that was named Stewart. Actually, all items in the office were named, but only Stewart and the name for the paper slicer stuck (kind of). So if you hear Jubes office staff swearing at "Stewart," the printer probably ate a piece of paper again or something.
The habit got to be that I even would encourage the printer in the editors' room in the Comm Centre (and got made fun of for it) even though I never named that printer.
My work computer's name isn't really Mac – I don't actually have a name for him, though Mac might work, short for Mackenzie. Or I'd take other suggestions… originally, he was a silver 21.5" iMac, but lost his tan (i.e. we switched my computer out when that one crashed a few weeks ago) and is now a white 21.5 iMac.
I need to get out more.
Saturday 14 May 2011
Healthy eating
"I'm not a vegetarian because I love animals. I'm a vegetarian because I hate plants."
I can't remember where I read that, I just remember saying it to one of my friends who gives me a hard time about my eating habits because he thinks I don't get enough protein.
Actually, I'm a vegetarian because I think it's a healthier way to eat. After nearly five years of no red meat, I still eat a little bit of chicken and fish, but am working on eliminating those too.
I would have eliminated them two years ago, except an allergic reaction to dairy left me with a pretty much vegan diet (but no vegan substitutes for dairy except soy milk) and eggs for nearly eight months.
Even now, eating some dairy again, I still have to be aware of what I'm eating to avoid another allergic reaction (and if you see me on a day when my face is red with some hives under my left eye, it means I've become lazy) and I've discovered that vegetarians have to be really good cooks if we don't want to live on pasta and fruit salads for the rest of our lives (which is what got me into trouble in the first place).
One of my friends is a mean vegetarian cook – she even used to regularly update a vegetarian cooking blog. I never got how she cooked that food (food we got to eat a lot of when she had parties at her apartment – sorry Z. I'm not trying to make you miss Calgary!), went to school and held part-time jobs as well, especially because she has a penchant for making crackers, pasta and other things that aren't usually "make from scratch" foods, completely from scratch.
I don't mind trial and error though. While my mom still eats meat, she doesn't mind veggie dishes too. So I took some spanakopita home to her last time I went home because I made too big of a batch and was tired of eating it (it freezes really well, but it needed some tzatziki), and next time, I'll be taking home yam-leek-feta burgers. Actually, they're yam-feta burgers because the store was out of leeks, and I'm not crazy about the results (just don't tell her that). I don't know if they need more spices or what.
I find it's easiest to take leftovers for lunch the next day, because you can only eat so many salads and peanut butter and banana sandwiches; if you want to make a veggie lunch it takes a little bit of prep work. So I cook a lot on the weekends, because I have nothing else to do.
This weekend was pea-avocado pesto (minus the pine nuts and with the addition of parmesan cheese), girl guide cookies (I'm not sure I like them dipped in the chocolate coating), and veggie bean burgers. I also made yummy muffins this week – not normally a fan of berries in muffins, but so good! I've found that some vegan recipes are easier to make than vegetarian recipes (vegetarian recipes call for a lot of spices and weird veggies I don't like or don't have); I just ignore the "vegan" butter or other vegan substitutes and use regular butter, or add cheese or whatever (milk products depend, since I drink chocolate soy milk, so in the case of the cookies I used the soy milk, but I might buy a small container of regular milk or use a bit of the half-and-half that I normally use for coffee in other non-chocolate cooking/baking).
I can't remember where I read that, I just remember saying it to one of my friends who gives me a hard time about my eating habits because he thinks I don't get enough protein.
Actually, I'm a vegetarian because I think it's a healthier way to eat. After nearly five years of no red meat, I still eat a little bit of chicken and fish, but am working on eliminating those too.
I would have eliminated them two years ago, except an allergic reaction to dairy left me with a pretty much vegan diet (but no vegan substitutes for dairy except soy milk) and eggs for nearly eight months.
Even now, eating some dairy again, I still have to be aware of what I'm eating to avoid another allergic reaction (and if you see me on a day when my face is red with some hives under my left eye, it means I've become lazy) and I've discovered that vegetarians have to be really good cooks if we don't want to live on pasta and fruit salads for the rest of our lives (which is what got me into trouble in the first place).
One of my friends is a mean vegetarian cook – she even used to regularly update a vegetarian cooking blog. I never got how she cooked that food (food we got to eat a lot of when she had parties at her apartment – sorry Z. I'm not trying to make you miss Calgary!), went to school and held part-time jobs as well, especially because she has a penchant for making crackers, pasta and other things that aren't usually "make from scratch" foods, completely from scratch.
I don't mind trial and error though. While my mom still eats meat, she doesn't mind veggie dishes too. So I took some spanakopita home to her last time I went home because I made too big of a batch and was tired of eating it (it freezes really well, but it needed some tzatziki), and next time, I'll be taking home yam-leek-feta burgers. Actually, they're yam-feta burgers because the store was out of leeks, and I'm not crazy about the results (just don't tell her that). I don't know if they need more spices or what.
I find it's easiest to take leftovers for lunch the next day, because you can only eat so many salads and peanut butter and banana sandwiches; if you want to make a veggie lunch it takes a little bit of prep work. So I cook a lot on the weekends, because I have nothing else to do.
This weekend was pea-avocado pesto (minus the pine nuts and with the addition of parmesan cheese), girl guide cookies (I'm not sure I like them dipped in the chocolate coating), and veggie bean burgers. I also made yummy muffins this week – not normally a fan of berries in muffins, but so good! I've found that some vegan recipes are easier to make than vegetarian recipes (vegetarian recipes call for a lot of spices and weird veggies I don't like or don't have); I just ignore the "vegan" butter or other vegan substitutes and use regular butter, or add cheese or whatever (milk products depend, since I drink chocolate soy milk, so in the case of the cookies I used the soy milk, but I might buy a small container of regular milk or use a bit of the half-and-half that I normally use for coffee in other non-chocolate cooking/baking).
Wednesday 11 May 2011
De-energizing the bunny
When I was in school, I used to get into fights with my parents because they didn’t believe me when I said I didn’t have time to clean my room or do the dishes, I was “busy.”
(Note: I seemed to get a bit of a break last semester, when my mom would say good night to me at 11 p.m., and when she got up at 4 a.m. to let the dog out, or 6 a.m. to kick my brother off to school, there I was, in the same position as she’d left me, working on whatever essay or assignment I had. What she didn’t see was that I had gotten about two hours of sleep, usually between about 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. It’s amazing how long you can actually function on two hours of sleep – I think I did it for most of October and part of November.)
One of my friends, on Day 3 of her new job, tweeted today: “I forget that working isn't like classwork; you don't need to be an Energizer bunny to get things done. So now I wait.”
It’s something that has been a hard lesson for me to learn. Learning it during my first internship was torture; it was hard to take an hour for lunch during my second internship because I didn’t know what to do with myself; and even working now, I have to plan things out not so I don’t get caught behind deadline, but so that I have enough to do until deadline.
Although that might have less to do with keeping busy and more to do with the fact that after being an EIC and being the person everyone had to wait for, I hate being the person everyone has to wait for.
And I get that everyone else has their own stuff to do, so I don’t want to be the person that is constantly – “OK, what can I do now? How about now? Got anything else I can help you with?”
Not living like a student – it's strange. Honestly, I think I've been juggling so many things for so long I actually prefer being busy, though I've also seen the flip side, when it's frustrating that you can't get really good at something – the jazz history class I took as one of my electives and working the sound board – because you don't have the time to devote to it.
It's also probably a little frustrating to others around you – I'm thinking specifically of the second year who had to chase me down the hall to talk about one of his stories because I was going from Point A to B and didn't have time to stop. Said second year also has a cane and a limp. Sorry about that.
But I’m glad I’m not the only one who has to learn to take out the batteries from the bunny and slow down a bit.
(Note: I seemed to get a bit of a break last semester, when my mom would say good night to me at 11 p.m., and when she got up at 4 a.m. to let the dog out, or 6 a.m. to kick my brother off to school, there I was, in the same position as she’d left me, working on whatever essay or assignment I had. What she didn’t see was that I had gotten about two hours of sleep, usually between about 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. It’s amazing how long you can actually function on two hours of sleep – I think I did it for most of October and part of November.)
One of my friends, on Day 3 of her new job, tweeted today: “I forget that working isn't like classwork; you don't need to be an Energizer bunny to get things done. So now I wait.”
It’s something that has been a hard lesson for me to learn. Learning it during my first internship was torture; it was hard to take an hour for lunch during my second internship because I didn’t know what to do with myself; and even working now, I have to plan things out not so I don’t get caught behind deadline, but so that I have enough to do until deadline.
Although that might have less to do with keeping busy and more to do with the fact that after being an EIC and being the person everyone had to wait for, I hate being the person everyone has to wait for.
And I get that everyone else has their own stuff to do, so I don’t want to be the person that is constantly – “OK, what can I do now? How about now? Got anything else I can help you with?”
Not living like a student – it's strange. Honestly, I think I've been juggling so many things for so long I actually prefer being busy, though I've also seen the flip side, when it's frustrating that you can't get really good at something – the jazz history class I took as one of my electives and working the sound board – because you don't have the time to devote to it.
It's also probably a little frustrating to others around you – I'm thinking specifically of the second year who had to chase me down the hall to talk about one of his stories because I was going from Point A to B and didn't have time to stop. Said second year also has a cane and a limp. Sorry about that.
But I’m glad I’m not the only one who has to learn to take out the batteries from the bunny and slow down a bit.
Sunday 8 May 2011
Comfortable clothes
I have two pieces of clothing I should never be allowed to wear out of the house.
Actually, I have more than that – jeans that are ripped, shirts that are pilled. Except I know I shouldn't wear those clothes out of the house, and I never do. But there are two tops that I'm strongly tempted, on occasion, to wear out of the house. They're just so comfortable.
The only tangible item I have from the AWNA awards I've won (the ACP award was for the Calgary Journal as a whole and that plaque is in their newsroom) is a University of Alberta T-shirt, because they sponsored the award. Before mailing the shirt to me, the editor emailed me to make sure my address was still the same, and he mentioned that it was a medium. Good. I normally wear medium.
Except this is a one-size-fits-all medium. So I wear it as a pajama top...but it's soo comfortable. If it were a little more fitted I probably could wear it out of the house, and sometimes, there's days I don't even care it's huge on me, I honestly try and find a pair of jeans or yoga pants that would make the shirt look good.
The good news about that shirt is that it's only about a year and a half old. The other item of clothing that I should never be allowed to wear out of the house is a 10-year-old sweater. It's grey, with the logo of my synchro club on it. Funny enough, I have another sweater from the same club, dark blue and a little bit newer. But the grey one is my favourite. I jokingly call it my "end of the world" sweater, because I used to pull it out of my closet when I was cold and it didn't feel like anything was going right. Now, it's the first thing I pull out of my closet when I'm cold because despite the fact that it's 10 years old, it's still really warm.
The thing is, I don't think you can tell that the sweater is 10 years old unless you look really close. However, if you see me out and about wearing either of these items (I came really close to wearing the sweater out today...and I still should go grocery shopping...) please, send me home.
And secondly, don't judge. They're really comfortable shirts.
Actually, I have more than that – jeans that are ripped, shirts that are pilled. Except I know I shouldn't wear those clothes out of the house, and I never do. But there are two tops that I'm strongly tempted, on occasion, to wear out of the house. They're just so comfortable.
The only tangible item I have from the AWNA awards I've won (the ACP award was for the Calgary Journal as a whole and that plaque is in their newsroom) is a University of Alberta T-shirt, because they sponsored the award. Before mailing the shirt to me, the editor emailed me to make sure my address was still the same, and he mentioned that it was a medium. Good. I normally wear medium.
Except this is a one-size-fits-all medium. So I wear it as a pajama top...but it's soo comfortable. If it were a little more fitted I probably could wear it out of the house, and sometimes, there's days I don't even care it's huge on me, I honestly try and find a pair of jeans or yoga pants that would make the shirt look good.
The good news about that shirt is that it's only about a year and a half old. The other item of clothing that I should never be allowed to wear out of the house is a 10-year-old sweater. It's grey, with the logo of my synchro club on it. Funny enough, I have another sweater from the same club, dark blue and a little bit newer. But the grey one is my favourite. I jokingly call it my "end of the world" sweater, because I used to pull it out of my closet when I was cold and it didn't feel like anything was going right. Now, it's the first thing I pull out of my closet when I'm cold because despite the fact that it's 10 years old, it's still really warm.
The thing is, I don't think you can tell that the sweater is 10 years old unless you look really close. However, if you see me out and about wearing either of these items (I came really close to wearing the sweater out today...and I still should go grocery shopping...) please, send me home.
And secondly, don't judge. They're really comfortable shirts.
Wednesday 4 May 2011
The worst part of journalism and why it's still worth it
It's inevitable: I'm going to run out of room on my tape recorder.
In theory, I'm OK with that fact. In reality, I've got 24:36 left before I have to do some major cleansing on that thing.
The problem is, I refuse to let some interviews go. I have probably 20 interviews – some nearly two years old, some as recent as a couple of months ago – that have survived a half-hearted attempt at clearing some room, another full-out purge, and if I have anything to do with it, they'll survive this next go-round as well.
Journalism isn't always a glamourous job. In fact, in my experience (so far, which is, if you add up the internships and semesters I've spent on papers, 16 months, 20 if you give me double credit for being the editor of two papers at once) it's about weird hours and that one source who just won't call you back. Or conveniently takes vacation time the week you're working on a story with them. Oh, and it's about a lot of coffee.
I spent one internship working for the Government of Canada - Natural Resources Canada. In the end, I enjoyed the work that I did there – I loved the subject matter; I find the oil sands, its technology and fallout, especially the tailings ponds, fascinating – which is kind of surprising, considering it was a lot of video work. Anyways, my point is that I worked Monday to Friday, eight to four. That was it, unless I was travelling (it happened). I could make plans with friends weeks in advance, because I knew what my schedule was. In a journalism job – not a chance. At this paper, it's a little better because I know I work every third weekend, unless we do some shuffling to accommodate someone. During my St. Albert internship, I knew I worked basically every weekend. Couldn't tell you the time or place until Thursday afternoon, but I knew I would be working. Which was OK, it kept me busy because I didn't really have anything else to do and it gave me experience, but it was frustrating sometimes not to know what was coming up and if I could make plans for the weekend until basically half a day before.
There's also the subject matter. In case you haven't glanced at a newspaper lately, news isn't always "feel good." In fact, it's got a rap for not being enough feel good. Honestly, there are just some stories that are a pain to do – the source isn't articulate, it doesn't make sense, or it's just plain not interesting to me personally. Then there's also just the bad stuff – the car accidents, the court cases, having to talk to someone who just had a friend or family member die.
But those afore-mentioned 20 interviews are why I can go out and photograph the car accidents, deal with the inarticulate source, and try to find some interest in a boring story. I'm never going to do anything with those interviews again, but they're my favourite. They remind me that I have a really cool job, and I get to talk to people with amazing stories. I figure if I can suffer through three-and-a-half hours of a federal candidates forum until 9:30 at night (although, I've got to admit, there were some pretty interesting/funny moments) there will be a story down the road – like a woman catching a stray beaver in a dog kennel – that has my name on it.
In theory, I'm OK with that fact. In reality, I've got 24:36 left before I have to do some major cleansing on that thing.
The problem is, I refuse to let some interviews go. I have probably 20 interviews – some nearly two years old, some as recent as a couple of months ago – that have survived a half-hearted attempt at clearing some room, another full-out purge, and if I have anything to do with it, they'll survive this next go-round as well.
Journalism isn't always a glamourous job. In fact, in my experience (so far, which is, if you add up the internships and semesters I've spent on papers, 16 months, 20 if you give me double credit for being the editor of two papers at once) it's about weird hours and that one source who just won't call you back. Or conveniently takes vacation time the week you're working on a story with them. Oh, and it's about a lot of coffee.
I spent one internship working for the Government of Canada - Natural Resources Canada. In the end, I enjoyed the work that I did there – I loved the subject matter; I find the oil sands, its technology and fallout, especially the tailings ponds, fascinating – which is kind of surprising, considering it was a lot of video work. Anyways, my point is that I worked Monday to Friday, eight to four. That was it, unless I was travelling (it happened). I could make plans with friends weeks in advance, because I knew what my schedule was. In a journalism job – not a chance. At this paper, it's a little better because I know I work every third weekend, unless we do some shuffling to accommodate someone. During my St. Albert internship, I knew I worked basically every weekend. Couldn't tell you the time or place until Thursday afternoon, but I knew I would be working. Which was OK, it kept me busy because I didn't really have anything else to do and it gave me experience, but it was frustrating sometimes not to know what was coming up and if I could make plans for the weekend until basically half a day before.
There's also the subject matter. In case you haven't glanced at a newspaper lately, news isn't always "feel good." In fact, it's got a rap for not being enough feel good. Honestly, there are just some stories that are a pain to do – the source isn't articulate, it doesn't make sense, or it's just plain not interesting to me personally. Then there's also just the bad stuff – the car accidents, the court cases, having to talk to someone who just had a friend or family member die.
But those afore-mentioned 20 interviews are why I can go out and photograph the car accidents, deal with the inarticulate source, and try to find some interest in a boring story. I'm never going to do anything with those interviews again, but they're my favourite. They remind me that I have a really cool job, and I get to talk to people with amazing stories. I figure if I can suffer through three-and-a-half hours of a federal candidates forum until 9:30 at night (although, I've got to admit, there were some pretty interesting/funny moments) there will be a story down the road – like a woman catching a stray beaver in a dog kennel – that has my name on it.
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