Journalism and I have a special kind of relationship.
(for this blogpost and for all intents and purposes, we’ll refer to journalism
as “he”) I mean, I trust him, most of
the time. I look to him for truth and facts, not opinions. I sometimes get
frustrated because he doesn’t always live up to the purposes or fulfill the
needs I have set for him. (Granted, these are not farfetched purposes or needs;
rather, quite understandable and agreeable.) I just see his main purpose in my
life to be one of honesty and consistency—it really bothers me when he starts
to get all artificial, flaky, or even showy. I like him blunt and trusting,
indicating that I like it when he trusts that I can handle what he has to say.
Because let’s face it. His main purpose in my life is to keep me updated,
involved and aware. I come to him for details because I trust that he has the
credible ones. He’s quite the savvy guy and if I want to really know what’s
going on, I turn to him. He connects me to things outside my circles and
enables me to partake in substantial conversations with the stories and topics
he provides me. Basically, he serves as my portal to information, individuals
and news, and for that purpose, I keep him pretty close.
As you can see, journalism serves many purposes in
my life. In fact, journalism does so much for me that I found it quite
necessary to even give journalism a pronoun in which we formed a symbiotic
relationship—how swell.
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