Feeling naked and apprehensive

Most of the time when we transition between one part of life and into another, it’s not so obvious until it’s already passed. We don’t realize everything is different until the change has already occurred and we certainly don’t pause to think about it or be nervous about it.

My six weeks as news editor and production manager of The Ryersonian finished Wednesday. We went out to the pub as a group after deadline on Tuesday night and our professor paid for the food and drinks.

It’s incredible what you don’t know about people, especially authority figures, until you share a pitcher of beer with them.

And after we delivered the last newspapers around campus on Wednesday morning as a group, the five of us went for breakfast at a greasy spoon nearby.

I’ve hated working in groups my entire academic career. At least one person (usually me) is taken advantage of and gets stuck with most, if not all, of the work once the others realize he or she will work hard enough to get a good mark whether they help or not. I’ve had dozens of terrible group experiences.

But this group was incredible and we knew it would be before we even started working together.

Sure, it was stressful sometimes and we were short with each other once in a while as the 5 p.m. deadline crept up every Tuesday, but we tried not to take ourselves too seriously while at the same time giving one another the mutual respect we all deserved.

After spending at least five or six days a week with these people, I now feel naked without them. Three of the others are staying in Toronto for their internships, like me, but my closest friend left for Vancouver on Saturday morning.

We became even closer while on the masthead and it feels strange that I can’t call her up right now to chat about something, or nothing. We lived a few blocks away from each other and we saw or spoke to each other almost every day.

I did her highlights in the bathroom of her boyfriend’s apartment (she moved out of hers during Reading Week) and we tried to chat like normal. We acted like it wasn’t a big deal that we wouldn’t see each other for the next two months.

The goodbye was sad and I rushed it so I wouldn’t cry. I sent her a text message later to tell her how much I would miss her, but that I hoped she had a great experience. (How Gen Y am I?)

I’ve spent the days since then working on the new project I mentioned in my last post. We officially launched it today.

The TalentEgg Career Incubator is an online career magazine for Canadian post-secondary students and recent graduates, and an extension of the main TalentEgg.ca website. I’m the editor.

I’m still working on putting together a larger writing team (if anyone is interested in writing for us, please let me know) and it’s a bit of a work in progress, but we’re so excited about it and so looking forward to turning it into an invaluable resource for Canadian students and recent graduates, especially considering the current economic climate.

I’m having so much fun being part of the TalentEgg team again and working with the really bright, ambitious students and recent grads who have volunteered to contribute content. Lauren and I are also working on putting together some fun (but also purposeful) group activities for the team once it grows a bit.

And, of course, my personal life is extremely tumultuous at the moment as well. I won’t go into details, but my life will be probably changing a lot very soon. It’s sad, but it’s something which needs to be done if I’m going to start my life on the right foot.

I’m also starting my internship at the National Post tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. The editor I’m working with told me to show up with “ideas and enthusiasm,” and to be honest, I’m a little short on both at the moment. I’m so nervous and I’m still not sure if it was the right choice for me, but it’s too late to go back now. I just hope I can do an amazing job there and leave feeling good about my work.

I suppose I’m just a worry wart. I love change when it comes, but until it actually arrives and I’m certain about what’s happening, all I can do is worry, worry and worry some more.

If you put in the effort, someone will notice

If you put in the effort, someone will notice. Sometimes. If you’re lucky.

The older members of Generation Y, like me, have grandparents and parents who are self-made men and women as inspiration for their own success. As many Gen Y denouncers suggest as a flaw, when Gen Y was growing up we were told if we work hard enough there’s nothing we can’t achieve or obtain.

What they didn’t tell us, however, was that this depends on someone else noticing and appreciating our hard work.

My dad is the best example of a self-made man I can think of, and a big believer in this philosophy.

For years, he worked as a cable guy, and in mines and oil fields in northern Alberta and the territories. He went to trade school in the early 1990s to become an electrician and, although my parents had to file for bankruptcy shortly after, it was probably the best thing he ever did.

He worked as an electrician for years, hauling around a heavy tool belt, crawling into small spaces, handling tiny wires and spending weeks in the cold while working on projects in the winter. His work at the airport caught the attention of one of the largest car rental companies in North America and they created a position just for him: he became the facilities manager for all of Toronto.

After almost a decade there, he was offered the opportunity to defect to a competitor (another large car rental company) to oversee locations across the country.

Although there are stressful days when he wishes he was back doing manual labour for a living, he has a comfortable mostly-office job with an impressive salary, especially for someone who didn’t go to university or college. He also has lots of perks like a company car, free gas, plenty of vacation time, an assistant and the ear of the president of the company.

As an unmarried, childless twenty-something working hundreds of kilometres below the earth’s surface in a mine in the early 1980s, he probably had no idea what his career would look like at age 52. He could have followed almost any path.

Today, most young people attend college or university to obtain some kind of speciality and, honestly, some kind of direction or certainty as to which direction our careers will take.

But in today’s economy, many of us are facing the same uncertainty our parents faced at our age.

If there’s one thing I learned from my dad’s career path, it’s that I should work hard at any and every opportunity which comes my way in order to succeed, whether it’s the ideal project or position or not.

For example, when I was hired as a sales and marketing intern at TalentEgg last summer, I was happy to have a paying job at a great company after months of searching. But I was also disappointed I wasn’t able to land my dream journalism internship.

After all, isn’t that what I’m going to university for, what I’m paying tens of thousands of dollars for? Journalism, not sales and marketing.

But I sucked it up and hid my disappointment as best as possible.

I probably wasn’t the ideal salesperson and I had no formal marketing training, but I wanted to learn. And I discovered I was more interested in it and more capable than I thought. Besides, I really believed in the company and the people I worked with were great.

I’m not a one-trick dog and neither is anyone else.

I suppose I wasn’t such a terrible sales and marketing intern after all because Lauren, my boss and the president of TalentEgg, kept talking to me, and became a mentor and friend once I stopped formally working for the company and went back to school in September.

But I never stopped working. I offered to spend some of my time blogging and agreed to represent the company on related blogs and message boards. I made myself available as someone to bounce ideas off of and tried to communicate my genuine interest in the ongoing success of the company.

This week, Lauren offered me the opportunity to head up a new project at TalentEgg. I’ll provide more details once it officially launches. For now I’ll just say I’m extremely excited about it.

It’s creative. It’s online. It involves writing, editing and managing people. And it’s paid.

Although it’s earlier in the year, I find myself in the same position I did last spring. I’ve been applying for journalism jobs for months and haven’t been able to land anything.

The difference between this year and last year is I’m not disappointed to take this position. I’m fired up about it. It’s all I think about. I’m not just grateful for a job, any job, I’m starting one I love at a company I believe in and feel connected to.

I’ve worked hard at many things over the last year and TalentEgg was one of them. I didn’t expect anything out of it – I really wanted to do it. But Lauren noticed and now she’s placing value on my work.

More details about the project to come in the next week or two.

What has paid off for you once someone noticed how hard you were working?

What if my helicopter parent is no longer hovering?

As a young woman, a university student and a member of Generation Y, it’s impossible to get away from conversations about parents and, in particular, mothers.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my dad. And I’m sure most people love their dads too. But there’s something different and special about mothers.

My friends and colleagues complain about their nosy, bossy mom in one breath and then list everything she’s doing for them in the next. They receive texts, emails and phone calls, and, if they live away from home, the occasional visit once a month or so.

They call their mom when they have a problem and are more like sisters or old friends than mother and daughter. They receive care packages, thoughtful and practical gifts, and clothes that actually fit.

If you don’t know me, or you haven’t visited the about me page yet, my mom died of cancer almost five years ago when I was 18.

…

Phew. OK. The bomb has dropped. Can we move on now?

It would be too simple to say I’m jealous, or that it stings when I witness and hear about the relationships between them and their mothers, whether good or bad or somewhere in between.

I’ve accepted my place as a quasi-orphan and I’ve learned to deal with people’s sympathy.

As a seemingly unrelated aside, I’ve totally accepted my Gen Y identity – except I don’t have a helicopter parent.

It would have been my mom. She wouldn’t have been one of those crazy helicopter parents who does your homework for you or won’t let you do your own laundry or calls your profs if you don’t get an A in their class. But she would have been involved in my life.

The thought occurred to me today after I went back to Cambridge to visit my dad and my brother. I can’t help but think of her whenever I go home. My mom never lived there, but some of her furniture, photographs and knick-knacks are there. We have to drive past the house we lived in with her when she died on the way to my dad’s house, only a few blocks away.

But I got a direct reminder thanks to some paperwork my dad’s been holding onto for the past four, almost five, years. I guess my mom put some money away for my brother and I when she really knew she wasn’t going to make it and my dad wants me to check it out.

Just seeing her handwriting, our old address and phone number, and her email address (which no longer exists – I checked) flooded my mind with memories and the reality that, after all this time, she’s still not around.

She filed the paperwork April 2, 2004; less than two months before she died. It’s not much money and I’m not even sure how to go about getting it, but I’ll figure it out.

It just got me wondering what she would think of me now, five years later, as I’m about to graduate from university. I’ve survived this long believing she’s proud of me and somehow knows what I’ve accomplished since she’s been gone.

What kind of relationship would we have? How often would we talk, email, text and visit? What would I ask her for advice about? Would I be annoyed by how involved she is in my life? Would I take her for granted?

They’re questions which can never be answered, but also questions I think about to figure out where I fit among my peers – especially as I continue to discuss and write about Gen Y, who seem to have such deep relationships with their parents.

What kind of relationships do you have with your parents?

Media consumption and criticism

Every media outlet has a bias. The business side of each outlet may try to convince people otherwise, but any journalist or media consumer with half a brain can figure it out.

Sometimes the bias is political. Sometimes it’s financial, racial or socio-economic. Other times it’s just a matter of a lack of resources and, most often, a lack of bodies to do the work. The industry is more strapped than ever before.

Journalists strive to be accurate, to include as many sides of the story as possible and to avoid bias toward one point of view or another.

But it happens every day and sometimes there is a major backlash from the public.

For example, there has been a bit of a backlash in the last day or so following coverage of the plane crash near Buffalo on Thursday night by one media outlet in particular, which has traditionally been known for its sensationalism.

Instead of simply regurgitating the few available details over and over again, the outlet took it a step or two further by providing some local context:

The Toronto-built Bombardier turboprop plane involved in Thursday night’s devastating crash in a Buffalo suburb is the same model used by Porter Airlines.

The media isn’t making this up. It’s true. In fact, the media is simply doing its job by reporting these facts, which people with connections to the aerospace or airline industries already knew. It was no secret.

Full disclosure: My boyfriend has worked for the past few years as an aircraft assembler at the Bombardier plant where the crashed Q400 was built. In fact, he probably worked on that very plane.

Aside from the fact that he’s pretty upset about the whole incident, we (and the thousands of other people with connections to Bombardier, Porter and the airplane industries in general) were already aware that Porter only flies Q400s.

But that doesn’t stop people from blaming media coverage for their problems instead of taking responsibility for their own media consumption.

Take the comments by Ryan L. over at blogTO, for example:

I now have 2 days to convince [his girlfriend] (who was already scared of flying prior) it is safe to travel on planes with otherwise impeccable safety records or we’ll be taking the greyhound and lose a full day out of our already brief trip.

…

Your constant lack of journalistic integrity has potentially ruined the vacation I’ve been saving up for and planning for 4 months.

I watched the CityNews coverage (as well as CBC) yesterday and, as a trained journalist, I think the story was reported with integrity.

Sure, it was reported in the sensational style typical of the outlet, but it was seemingly accurate and reported multiple sides of the same story, including the event itself, the story of the Canadian man who died in the crash, the story of the 9/11 widow who also died, and the local angle involving Porter and Bombardier.

What’s wrong with that?

Maybe I’m “one of them” now, but I can’t help but get my back up when relatively good examples of my profession are not only dragged through the mud, but also blamed for the ignorance and paranoia of the people who consume media.

I’m a true believer in looking critically at media, but I think people must also look at themselves and think critically about the way in which they consume media and how the media affects their day-to-day lives.

If media outlets censored themselves based on the possibility of making somebody somewhere afraid of something, nothing would ever be reported.

Governments and politicians would not be held accountable for their actions. Corporations which put public safety at risk would never be exposed. Corrupt individuals would never be identified and made an example of.

These terrifying things happen every day and are reported on every day, but without media exposure nothing is learned and nothing will change.

Before consumers turn on their television sets, open a newspaper or head to a news website, they must put their own fears, paranoia and biases in check.

This is when I turn into a zombie

Voting for the Ryerson Students’ Union elections ends tonight and we’re staying at school into the wee hours of the morning to get all the results live.

I’ll be liveblogging the evening’s events at RyersOnline. Look for a page to go live around 5:30 p.m. if all goes as planned.

The other editors and I will be posting results, photos and possibly even interviews and interesting tidbits of information as they pop up.

I have to be honest, though: I haven’t voted yet and I don’t think I will.

Aside from the fact that I’m graduating this year and these elections’ winners will have no affect on me, I’m completely disillusioned with the RSU and have no interest in supporting any of the candidates.

As a journalism student, I’ve been forced to pay attention to the students’ union since first year in order to survive story assignments about student politics. It was even more important last year and this year as I developed story ideas and was assigned more complicated political stories.

It’s been great reporting training because although some of the RSU members have good intentions, they are politicians. They know the tricks of the trade and can talk around an issue in ways most students couldn’t dream of.

But the infighting, allegations of corruption, nepotism and lack of getting anything done is truly disappointing. Other than a purely professional one, I have lost all interest.

It doesn’t bode well for my political interest when I will have to report on politics in the future.

Chances are I’ll have to report on some politics at some point, whether on the municipal, provincial, federal or international level. And unfortunately, politicians on all of these levels seem to be mostly the same.

I’m a politically passionate person. I believe in things and parties and even a select few politicians. I’m interested in watching the rising stars to see what they’ll do. I vote.

I’ve always wondered how becoming a journalist would affect this part of me. Will my passion for politics help me as a journalist? Hinder me? Or will it just disappear altogether as I become more immersed in political reporting?