Hmm, well scholarship committee, my brutal honesty isn't going to get me the scholarship, but I'm considering speaking my mind to give you at least one application to laugh at. I never chose journalism as a career, but hoped that some how blogging could turn into a career. That was of course, after I discovered that being a veterinarian was a little more difficult than little seven year-old optimistic, non-jaded Lauren thought it would be.
I hope to one day make a living writing like Jenny
Lawson, she also has a kick ass book,
Let's pretend this never happened which apparently
can be downloaded by PDF which is a complete
scam if you ask me. If you want to steal literature
then google the PDF to the book, otherwise be a
respectable human being for god sake, and buy
the book from amazon. Or, if you live close to me
and want to borrow the book, I could probably
help you with that.)
The editor of a paper came in, to talk to us bright eyed, bushy tailed j-school students. That editor sucked the life out of me, I was basically left the classroom a corpse, thanks to that super uplifting, motivational speech that entailed him saying: "Don't expect to be paid", "You better have written for at least eight thousand magazines before you even CONSIDER writing for us", "go dig you own grave, it'd be more productive than listening to me talk". And so I went, shovel in hand.
I apologize that I want to make enough money to a. Buy a house b. Have two babies c. Foster 8-12 cats and possibly run a cat breeding operation. As graduation looms nearer, I am planning what my life is going to look like. Picture this: A refrigerator cardboard box, 10 cats. I wouldn't have brought the cats into my terrible fate, but when I can't afford heat, I need to be resourceful. I will also use the cardboard box as sustenance because everything I eat that is gluten-free, tastes like cardboard regardless. Win-win.
Did you know that 80% of journalists are actually prostitutes on the side? Yeah, they are, and it's good money, not to mention the material that they can write about following their encounters. I'm kinda wondering how I am going to survive with this shitty paying degree, so I have detailed a list of possible part time jobs I am comfortable partaking in:
- Produce and birth infants to rich couples that are blacklisted from adoption lists.
- Hide behind cross walk signs, at the first notice of an expensive car approaching, hurl myself into the cross walk and collect an insurance pay cheque.
- Call companies like Pepsi and Kraft, and complain that I found shards of glass and fiberglass in their products (I may not get money but I will get free food regardless, some free pop to wash down my free crackers)
- Steal the cats of wealthy individuals, wait until they issue those cute missing posters with a monetary reward, then return said furry creature.
- Build decks, roof houses and lay hardwood floor (don't even scoff, I am not a namby pamby girl, I can do lots of hardcore things that most people think are impossible)
- Catch rattle snakes and coyotes and sell their skins/pelts for good money to hunters traveling through the area, which I heard is a better industry than journalism.
I much prefer blogging to regular journalism (despite the fact I will never be paid for my rants) because I can fucking say fuck whenever the fuck I want. I can talk about anything I want without having to "survey my readers", because quite frankly, I don't care where my website hits come from. A douchey editor isn't going to mess with my stories and make them say things I don't mean. I don't have to interview anyone I don't give two shits about, I just think "hmm whats pissing me off today" and I write it. The end.
Thank you for reading, scholarship selection committee, I am not your girl but I could really use a few thousand dollars. You think it over and get back to me.
Lauren, the not so journalistic journalist