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Mikethehack wrote:There was a rite of passage in the old days that the most promising journalists would earn their stripes doing the unpleasant beats. If they could cope with that, then they were sent next door and that usually meant Northern Ireland for most British journalists and the UK (and by extension NI) for the Americans, French, Germans etc.
They would go to London and have to go to mad old Belfast from time to time where they would be given a goood scaring and a few slaps to help them understand what complex political situations amounted to. After that it was usually the Middle East, Russia or Africa for the very thick skinned and New Delhi, Bangkok and Hong Kong for those who weren't quite as mad, but still had a lot of talent. Later on it involved a stint in the US (DC usually) before returning to a top slot at home. People worked their way up the chain.
Nowadays, I find myself in DPs beside people who are away from home for the first time. They are known as a liability and they scare us almost as much as the nuts with guns do. I remember a time when probably not one person in the whole bunch of us had a degree in journalism. Nowadays it seems that the place is full of people who only have degrees in journalism. Why do I find myself in DPs with people whose biggest concern is where the local gym is, their macrobiotic diet and where the best cosmetic shops are, women and men?
Why do I find myself in DPs with people whose game plan for life is to end up in Hollywood and become really, really famous? Why are they more concerned with situations that will make them look good, but have less of an interest in the story and the people on the ground?
Mikethehack wrote:Nowadays, I find myself in DPs beside people who are away from home for the first time. They are known as a liability and they scare us almost as much as the nuts with guns do. I remember a time when probably not one person in the whole bunch of us had a degree in journalism. Nowadays it seems that the place is full of people who only have degrees in journalism. Why do I find myself in DPs with people whose biggest concern is where the local gym is, their macrobiotic diet and where the best cosmetic shops are, women and men?
Why do I find myself in DPs with people whose game plan for life is to end up in Hollywood and become really, really famous? Why are they more concerned with situations that will make them look good, but have less of an interest in the story and the people on the ground?
rickshaw92 wrote:Where is a nice, soft war to cover?
Theres a few housing estates in London. We can do up the rickshaw with some kevlar plating and be on our way!
Shujaa wrote:Would anyone suggest going to uni for something on Journalism before I might head out or focus on getting out there?
SRR wrote:Shujaa wrote:Would anyone suggest going to uni for something on Journalism before I might head out or focus on getting out there?
Yes. You can do both. Get an engineering/health/business degree at uni and do your journo stuff in the summer. Then it'll all work out fine.
My problem is that I'm mind-bogglingly stupid at mathematics, business etc.
I'm only reasonable at writing and history. I don't think I'd have it in me to get down and take out a degree in the afforementioned subjects.
I'd like to head out to Sub-saharan Africa to do some freelancing or get a job that would allow me to freelance. Just not sure what to do, as I don't know much on the specific subject of Journalism, apart from that you need to make contacts in embassies etc. And to sit around in loads of ex-pat bars hoping for the best.
Hell, I've even considered joining the Australian Army for a Journalism scholarship thingy but don't think I'd survive long in the shitiness that is the Aussie Army.
Find your passion and fuck it till it cries for mercy.
rickshaw92 wrote:Can you get me a job as a war jurno? Im at the library right now and can steal a pen and paper for writin stuff down.
Hell, I've even considered joining the Australian Army for a Journalism scholarship thingy but don't think I'd survive long in the shitiness that is the Aussie Army.
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