One good thing came of this year
Our last editorial meeting at the paper was yesterday. I had intended to tell our editor what a useless experience this past year has been. Then I had forgotten I was going to do that until part way through the meeting. At that point I just couldn't bring myself to do it by the seat of my pants.
I don't know. I'm really conflicted about the whole thing.
The year was a waste in terms of becoming a better writer.
I made many friends though. And I also grew a spine. Which is nice.
Should probably explain the last, shouldn't I?
Those of you who know me would probably agree that I'm a nice guy. I treat people the same, regardless of whether I like them or not. More than once, people have asked Brian if I liked them. Not because I was an ass, leading them to wonder I didn't. They couldn't figure out if I was treating them well because I liked them, or because that's just how I treat everyone.
Every time I open my mouth to say something, I run an unconcious check on the words I'm about to say to make sure they're as inoffensive as I can make them.
I'll nearly always put the needs and wants of others over my own.
Part of this is that I want others to like me. Another part is that I very badly want to like everybody. Another is that I don't like it when people are mad at me. A huge part of it is that I have very high levels of empathy, so any type of negative emotion in others really bothers me.
All of these get me into a lot of pain in the ass situations.
The one good thing about this year is that I was forced to stop being such a nice guy.
At one point I thought to myself that if I was going to do the job the way I had to, the process was going to hammer my personality into a slightly different shape.
I've worked in the most toxic work environment I've ever been exposed to. I've dealt with a blatantly partisan editor in chief who put her political agenda ahead of journalistic integrity. I've reported on a corrupt student government. I've called people on their mistakes, canned articles for arriving late, and written articles about improper conduct of the adolescents in student government.
I've pissed people off, made some hate me and came to dislike some of them.
And none of it bothered me as much as I thought it would. I'm not sure I would have learned that had I gone to journalism school for the last year instead of working at the paper.
So if I'm such a badass, what's the real reason I didn't tell my editor what a useless experience having her as my editor has been? Because I'm no badass at all. If I'd said that, it would have been with the intent of hurting her. And I just couldn't do that.
And in the end, I guess it wasn't a completely useless experience after all.
Turn every situation to your advantage, right? (See principle four.)
I don't know. I'm really conflicted about the whole thing.
The year was a waste in terms of becoming a better writer.
I made many friends though. And I also grew a spine. Which is nice.
Should probably explain the last, shouldn't I?
Those of you who know me would probably agree that I'm a nice guy. I treat people the same, regardless of whether I like them or not. More than once, people have asked Brian if I liked them. Not because I was an ass, leading them to wonder I didn't. They couldn't figure out if I was treating them well because I liked them, or because that's just how I treat everyone.
Every time I open my mouth to say something, I run an unconcious check on the words I'm about to say to make sure they're as inoffensive as I can make them.
I'll nearly always put the needs and wants of others over my own.
Part of this is that I want others to like me. Another part is that I very badly want to like everybody. Another is that I don't like it when people are mad at me. A huge part of it is that I have very high levels of empathy, so any type of negative emotion in others really bothers me.
All of these get me into a lot of pain in the ass situations.
The one good thing about this year is that I was forced to stop being such a nice guy.
At one point I thought to myself that if I was going to do the job the way I had to, the process was going to hammer my personality into a slightly different shape.
I've worked in the most toxic work environment I've ever been exposed to. I've dealt with a blatantly partisan editor in chief who put her political agenda ahead of journalistic integrity. I've reported on a corrupt student government. I've called people on their mistakes, canned articles for arriving late, and written articles about improper conduct of the adolescents in student government.
I've pissed people off, made some hate me and came to dislike some of them.
And none of it bothered me as much as I thought it would. I'm not sure I would have learned that had I gone to journalism school for the last year instead of working at the paper.
So if I'm such a badass, what's the real reason I didn't tell my editor what a useless experience having her as my editor has been? Because I'm no badass at all. If I'd said that, it would have been with the intent of hurting her. And I just couldn't do that.
And in the end, I guess it wasn't a completely useless experience after all.
Turn every situation to your advantage, right? (See principle four.)
