Here is a story about my journalism life.
I’m not a big fan of going back to the past and mourning over the spilt milk or embarrassing mistakes I made. However, this time I can’t help it but reveal the most difficult moments of my life. Of course, everyone could say that more are awaiting me in the next few years or decades. In spite of this prediction, I believe I can still look back and view what I had gone through at the beginning of my career as a tough, bitter experience.
When I started my internship at one international news agency, I knew right away that I couldn’t expect anything to fall on my laps without putting efforts and time into the job. Besides, it would take years and years of concentration and endeavor just to get where I wanted to be. My internship stopped after two months, and I was later employed because the other reporter had to go. Just my luck, right?
I don’t know why things don’t come easy to me. I just know they don’t always seem to be right for me. Sometimes, embarrassingly, I sent off wrong messages to another bigger office in another region. Because English isn’t my first language, I have encountered countless issues. I swear, if I were ever born native of English, I wouldn’t have had those editors get into trouble because they didn’t understand what I wrote! I am not into taking revenge or gathering all bad feelings within me. But one of those painful memories keeps me awake sometimes from a sweet dream. I once was assigned to write a story out of this press release. Not feeling good due to some reason, I wrote the story the other way around, only to receive this kind of insult from one editor. “This is a really really bad piece,” she said. I held my breath on phone because the scolding part was eating away my time to correct the piece. I was too tired to cry anyway, but came up with a better article at last. The editor called and apologized for being such an idiot. That day of insulting left me an impression that it would never be easy these days to speak just some English and that the English language rules. But, I am not a English language MANIAC. But a rudimentary knowledge of this language isn’t enough to make a man live nobly in this modern English-crazy world.
Well, to cut it short, I didn’t quit because of this experience. One thing led to another. I started to write a lot for other news publications, not because I was damn famous, but because I was introduced by a good friend who’s also a journalist. I thrived on with trials and errors like being late for deadlines amidst tight school schedules. I have upset many but pleased very few. 😀
So, here I am today, complaining about life that’s never been fair. My justifiable anger is that English isn’t my first or second language while it should be, and that everyone around me expects me to attain what’s not deemed possible by a student with no English formal education but who spent hours being locked up in the room and learning English all by herself.
Just a simple person with an ambition to be a journalist and writer.