I need popcorn for council

Council meetings are a good reflection time for me. Mainly because the moment any numbers are mentioned my brain finds some other path to wander down and I soon find myself thinking about goldfish or the way the sun rays irritatingly hits certain peoples heads. They also remind me how resilient my gut can be… mainly the induced hunger by not bringing food in fear of crunching in a quiet room, and forgetting water. There is water cooler water flowing into a plastic cup in a quiet room specific kind of volume that really does make one realise they could probably survive in a desert for at least a day. 

One thing I do like greatly about council meetings is the dry sarcasm which seems to weave its way into heated arguments. These make for great quotes in stories. I’m not sure if it’s just because I’ve been doing the council round for the past 5 months and have a collection of council agendas that I can now understand them with surprising ease. It could also be the staff have now simplified things. Possibly both. But either way as of late, I have been pleasantly surprised by the information I can use for a story from one document. 

Anyway, I should actually get back to focusing on the meeting now, as they have stopped talking about numbers and I can now really get into it. Yes, I do genuinely like council meetings, and I do get quite excited about the stories. 

I know, weird.

But that’s okay. One day I’ll remember to bring popcorn.

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The tale of the journalism kid

Ahh, reporting. I do enjoy the newsroom atmosphere. Between Melissa singing her strange jingles for almost everything usually ending with her own name… then you have the usual banter between each other, the ribbing and then Melissa’s off the cuff comments topped by some inappropriately timed comment from one of the boys… then Melissa not quite getting it. I like it. It makes me laugh. 

Our ghost has been quiet today… I’m not sure why… maybe he doesn’t like dryers or sunny days? My mind boggles… 

Of course then there is the increasingly growing pile of washing in my room- topped off by the washing thats been sitting in the washing machine for a week… It’s one of those ‘please please please just be done without me having to lift a finger!’ type things… perhaps our ghost could help me out? 

Then there’s the vacuuming, (still find it strange that word has two u’s… it just doesn’t feel right)… our floor is looking increasingly suspect… 

And sky seems to have this amazing new talent for selecting certain channels not to work on… I mean thats just brilliant… I don’t pay enough money as it is to watch it… 

Then again I don’t really have the time to do so… so I suppose I can’t really complain… perhaps they’re doing me a favor… 

My list goes on. 

In between the chaotic madness that has become a somewhat enjoyable insanity of my life, I have managed to eat crackers and cheese, read TWO- not one… but TWO gossip mag’s and have time for nearly 8 hours sleep each night! 

Brillance. 

A day in the life of a journalist

Here we go again. Early morning. Brain refuses to work. Sigh. Coffee- not an option. Heart races. Head spins. Need coffee- but it will make it worse. So, no coffee. Tired. So so tired. Thats ok. Nurofen. Take 3. Headache kind’ve cured. 

Walking along. Freezing cold. Wishing I’d brought a coat. See coffee cart. Wish I could drink coffee. Decide to write a story on them. Perhaps that will make up for lack of drinking coffee. 

Few good quotes. Find other people to talk to. More good quotes. Get back to ‘news room’. Pitch idea. Realize it’s a leading news story. Perfect. Write. Send. Publish. 

Woohoo! 

One down. Two to go. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.

Tired. Worn out. Happy.

This is making it. 

Slowly.