Alas, the title says it all. Surviving J-school, yes, that's my mission. I wrote a witty dissertation about my first few days of the professional journalism program. I lost that entire blog post because I'm too bleary eyed to be trusted on a computer (at 1 am, nonetheless!) So, the laconic version is this: I am tired of school. I am no Van Wilder, diligently trying to preserve my youth by taking the six year college plan. I want to finish. I want a stupid diploma in my greedy hands. Simultaneously, I want to be the best. I don't want my hormonal teachers to assume I am a sorority girl who wants a journalism degree to promote a job at Vogue magazine. I want to be the top of my journalism classes. I want to walk out of class and blush with a surge of pride because, Aha, I did write an enlightening bit of material about foreign exchange students being unable to travel abroad this semester due to swine flu. But first I have to wake up for class and make it through the AP Stylebook (a journalist's dictionary, comparable on the boring-o-meter to a normal dictionary) letters A and B. Yes, I really do have to read the definition of the word adjective. I'll be reading these words ad nauseam ( a word also in my "you don't know shit about shit condensed dictionary").
More to come...
han, a disgruntled journalism student
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