I have been feeling sick to my stomach almost all day.
I took a nap this morning and when I woke up there was a message from Joe asking whether I had seen what was going on at Postmedia. Mergers, layoffs. Very bad news.
You see, I stopped being a journalist a long time ago. Well, not really – once a journalist, always a journalist. I stopped trying to work as a journalist but I still have a passion for journalism. I was raised on journalism. Both of my parents studied it, it was all around me. People with great respect for the trade and its product.
This is devastation.
And my biggest fear is that a majority of people don’t know what they lost today.
You see, I don’t believe in citizen journalism, and I don’t believe good reporting can be done for free. Just because you have a police scanner app on your phone doesn’t mean that you have access. Just because you have a blog doesn’t mean you’re a reporter.
Good journalism, real journalism, is a very special skill. It’s access and instinct. It’s time spent digging. Talking to the right people and asking the right questions.
Too many people don’t understand the real value of great journalism. They want it for free and they think it will be the same.
I have been feeling sick to my stomach all day because a lot of people lost their jobs today, most of them hard-working people who were dedicated to jobs that have bad pay and shitty hours because they saw the promise of what good journalism can do.
I don’t know how we reverse this trend, but we would all benefit if we could figure it out.
Six years ago right about now my labour was about to go from zero to sixty, as they say. I had finally been admitted to the hospital and hooked up to the IV to start my induction. And then things really started to suck.
Six years ago right now I couldn’t imagine what the next day was going to look like, let alone the next decade.
Six years ago right now I had no clue how much love I could hold in my heart for one person.
It is almost unimaginable that six years ago I had never met my little girl. Never held her or called her by name or cuddled her or been frustrated by her. Never read to her or danced with her or embarrassed myself for her.
Surely she’s been here forever.
But really, just six years ago I was looking into unknowns. I didn’t know how my labour was going to progress, whether she would be born healthy, I had questions about how I would feel about her, what kind of mother I would be.
And then six years ago today I was given the part of me that was missing. A part of me that has made me stronger, more loving, more humble, more saner. She has made me everything I was supposed to be and more.
I will be forever thankful.
2015 has been wound down and I’ve been back full throttle in 2016 for the last few days. Today, however, I am in bed with a fever, possibly the flu, and I’ve been thinking about the many things that happened in 2015.
When 2015 started I was headed into my last semester of undergrad and starting the statistics course I had avoided taking the first time around. I was terrified and I ended up with an A. Actually, one of the last emails I exchange with my father, who had told me I would be fine, was to tell him my mark.
In 2014 my daughter started school and she continued to excel in SK. There were some rough moments but it seems to be fairly smooth now. She’s about to turn 6 and I’m already thinking about Grade 1.
This time last year I didn’t yet know if I had been accepted for the Master’s program. I didn’t hear back until April and I was so worried that I wouldn’t get in. If I hadn’t gotten in then going back to school would have been pointless. But I did, and I ended my first semester with two As, an A+ and an A-. So basically I rock.
That’s something I would love to share with my father, who actually suggested to me that I apply for this program as though it was something I should obviously do. But in May of 2015 he died suddenly. An article I read recently described it as an untimely death, which seems a bit silly since the man was 82.
I wondered a lot over the years how I would react when my father died. I mostly reacted by just wanting more time. I wanted him to have more time with my kid, I wanted him to see me graduate and set off on a great career.
Though even though I love my program and I’m having a great time learning I’m still trying to figure out how I want to use this degree.
2015 also saw me try to balance working an election campaign while also doing my Master’s degree. I mostly managed, except for winding up in the ER with severe bronchitis and an asthma attack. And so 2015 also marked the beginning of my trying to live with asthma as a adult. I had it as a kid but stopped using my inhaler regularly years ago. Now if I’m out in the cold wind for a few minutes I’m desperate for it.
This could also be a result of the fact that I ended 2015 about 20 pounds heavier than I started. That is also related to the fact that I feel like an idiot who must just be out of control.
So, I guess 2016 will be a bit of an adventure. Growth and learning and seeking out answers. But at this point I don’t really know.