Filling the static and silence
Loneliness can be overwhelming to the extent of despair. It’s practically an innate need of living things to connect with something or someone that acts not only as a mirror to our subjective experience, but also as validation that our subjective experience is not singular. No matter how desperately we want to believe, at times, that our struggles are ours alone—someone somewhere can, at the very least, relate on some minute level.
I was not a particularly social child growing up. I had no patience for childlike activities or conversations, so it went without saying that discussions with adults were far more enjoyable. The trouble with this, however, lay in the fact that I could never take these discourses home with me or to the playground or the cafeteria or anywhere else where I was supposed to act like a kid among other four-footers. Needless to say, my friends were oft books and chatter limited itself to whatever the singer of the song on the record/radio/cassette tape had to say. That I read Moby Dick over the course of a week in sixth grade might speak more about my isolation than anything else.
My stereo and later the iPod eventually filled the static and silence in later years. There was nothing so holy as hearing someone talk about your life without having ever met you, but telling the story so much more eloquently than you ever believed yourself able. (This remains the case—music connects us to emotions and experiences that are both real and fantasized. Why else would Presidential candidates have pep rally playlists?) Nirvana, Placebo, and The Manic Street Preachers crashed through my version of the 90s and Steppenwolf was my turntable favorite, among others.
Either way, these things took me away from the bubble that I felt I occupied.
Where we previously had books (David Foster Wallace, Elizabeth Wurtzel, Joan Didion) and our favorite bands, the internet and social media cropped up. In a way, the threads that tie us together via social media take what books and bands do and add steroids. Eloquence is one thing, to have an actual conversation with someone that gets it is something else. While you know some vague detail about the people with whom you trade favorite authors or show up at the same shows, the internet affords some speck of anonymity (if desired) when it comes to the gritty, bare bones discussions. You can bare your soul without necessarily having to readily admit it to someone that knows you face to face.
I remember discovering forums and message boards a good ten or fifteen years ago and what a find. You had a handle, you had an avatar, and you could share your secrets without having to share “who” you were. (Of course, now there’s Post Secret, which trumps all of this!) Somehow, even if you felt lonely in your daily life, you could turn on the machine (listen to the bloody modem for those that remember dial-up), and there was suddenly a whole world full of people that “got it.”
People ask now, “Why mess with social media? It seems kind of self-indulgent and a giant waste of time.” I say, why not? It would be like asking, “What’s the point of travelling to other places?” or “Why read the news or magazines?” We are a product of need for other living beings (including plants and animals and whatever else serves as your companion.) Even if one doesn’t particularly like the company of others and prefers a solitary existence (yes, that includes me, the perpetual roommate-free single dweller), we still have a sometimes begrudging need for validation of our existence, of our experience from/by something/someone else.
Even if it’s only a mirror. Figurative or not.
Lessons From the Paper
Food for thought from behind the headlines:
My giant take-home of late comes from the acknowledgment of one of my greatest weaknesses as a journalist. Accosting total strangers on the street—particularly college students—terrifies me in the same manner that speaking to large groups of people terrifies others. I avoid it, I stammer, I pass dozens of people as I try to psych myself up to talk to them.
I am still innately a very introverted person. Introversion can superficially be overcome only through the examination and practice of “putting on a good show.” Still, there are pockets of it that are more difficult than others. This is one difficulty for me. Perhaps one day I’ll move beyond it. Perhaps not.
McDonald's is buying out Whole Foods
Another cool part of my job as a writer and an editor is getting to break news like this.
Don’t Be a Wiener: What Writing for a Newspaper Will Teach You
Journalism and what I’ll call “new journalism” are tricky ventures, particularly the former if you have any opinion about the integrity of the news world these days. Journalism wouldn’t necessarily be a first career for me. Witnessing the spin factor of the news depending on your locale and news source, as well as what exactly is covered, is a sticking point because I’m of the opinion that news should be as unbiased as possible despite the fact that life itself is a subjective experience and therefore impossible to render objectively. Despite said reservations and a year after my lucky exit from the trenches of the advertising world, I’m getting paid to write for an alternative weekly on a piece by piece basis.
Reporting the “news”, whatever it happens to encompass, teaches you a lot of things that creative writing will sometimes not.
- Rejection. When you have to pitch three ideas every single week with the opportunity to be shot down every time, you will learn rejection and it will either make you or break you. No thick skin=no job in media.
- Journalism is all about marketing. Your editors can and will sensationalize your headlines in order to gain a few more readers—even if the headline and primary content of said article do not match. I call these black-hat headlines, but that’s just my opinion.
- Know your audience. Your articles will be buried if the editors don’t think there is readership for it. If your preferred audience isn’t that of the paper, FIND ADDITIONAL OUTLETS.
- Don’t be a wiener. If you’re not going to fight for your sources, your pitches, your style, ANYTHING—what’s the point? With a press pass comes power, so use it.
- You will love your editors as much as you hate them. They should be there to make sure that you become a better writer (among other things) and since it’s essentially free guidance, take it.
So, here’s a mini-plug. I had seven articles come out over the last couple of weeks, so if you’re feeling generous, I’d love for you to read them. Share them. Blast me in my Ask if you love them/hate them/have no opinion.
