Twenty-Something Year Old Journalist

Well folks, the time has finally come. I know we’ve only known each other for six blog entries, or rather for 22 years since it seems my grandpa is my only consistent blog viewer, but I hope you will share my excitement (and more notably, my Dad’s) when I say I finally have a job. 

I am working as an Assistant Media Planner for an advertising agency and have been for the past two weeks. (If that wasn’t made obvious by my lack of blog posting) While it’s been a bit slow, given that I am just being trained at the moment, it does present the question of where does this blog fall in my list of priorities? (My current priorities being work, sleep, CorePower Yoga, and watching 30 Rock)

So far, as soon as that clock hits 5:00pm, I am overcome with exhaustion. My inner voice yells at me that I should write for this blog, but my body’s profound need to be horizontal takes superiority. By the time I have enough energy to start to use my brain again, my dad has just arrived home from work and I must tell him about my day in an attempt to fish for validation and compliments of my intelligence and gold-star employee behavior. 

Yet here I am, writing for my blog. I often find my thoughts take the cadence and prose of my writing, perhaps acting as a subconscious nudge to actually sit at my desk and start typing. I have random ideas and topics to write about flooding my notes app and borderline incoherent drafts from when I get high and think I am the voice of this generation. So, I obviously do really enjoy writing.

Despite writing being something that I genuinely like doing and look forward to, and finally being an answer to the dreaded “what do you like to do for fun” question, I also enjoy people reading my work. Whether I am a narcissist with a big ego, or it’s simply just human nature, (or maybe both) I want my work to be seen and read. 

And while of course I love my grandpa and the singular, random WordPress user who likes my blog posts, I am not satisfied. I tried to put my marketing degree to good use and create an Instagram for this blog to promote it and get more views. And before you ask, no, Sarah Jessica Parker did not see my Instagram, prompting a book deal and the eventual climb to number one on the New York Times Bestseller list; I rather found that I am not creative, nor technically savvy enough to run an Instagram account, and that I am quick to get overwhelmed by the random sex bots and foreign men who populate my following list.  

So where does that bring us? I have no plans to stop writing, (please, hold your applause) but I do not think I am motivated enough to keep on a consistent writing schedule for a blog that I get excited for when I see I had two views in one day, only to find out those views are actually just me. 

I think I may want to partake in entering writing contests, or submitting my work to newspapers and magazines, but of course, that also requires time and effort that I just haven’t quite yet found. 

I have also floated around the idea of writing a book, or rather writing and compiling pieces to one day, in the far, distant future, publish a work of my own. I would love to be able to publish a book one day, possibly one filled with essays or in the style of Everything I Know About Love by Dolly Alderton, but my desperate need of validation and constant state of indecisiveness hampers those plans. 

For now, I’ll keep trying to make time to write for my blog, and even ponder a name change for my site, (I feel I can do better) but if you happen to see my published book years from now during an absent-minded Amazon scroll, please don’t hesitate to buy it and let Sarah Jessica Parker know that I finally did it.