I’ve made it to the half-way point of “Boot Camp.” If I ever felt more like a journalist, it has to be right now. I’ve been covering stories left and right, my tv doesn’t change from CNN or News 10 Now. I read the entirety of The New York Times and the local Post-Standard everyday. I am a walking news ticker. I hear a cricket. I hope it’s not inside.
I’m 100% comfortable and adjusted. I think. Or at least I’m really good at fooling myself. No, I think I really have found a home away from home. I like the people here. Good people. I know this will be a great experience. It already has been. I’m learning about myself and about other people. I didn’t realize how similar I was to the people I surrounded myself with at home. This is definitely refreshing. I think I can start a softball team now.
Everyone I know or who knows me, knows that I’m a hardshell to break. And I’m learning. I want to be able to put trust in people who put their trust in me. So bear with me as I work out my complexes. Although, spillling your guts to people you’ve just met is a lot easier than spilling them to somone you’ve known for a long time and have yet to spill. It’s a weird dynamic. And is just is.
I know none of you may believe this but I have earned the title of campus drunkard. Bad, I know. Okay, so maybe not campus drunkard but people call me a drunk-ass. Cuz I do stupid things when I am inebriated. I don’t know why I’ve been drinking this much. I have been extremely stressed adjusting to the workload. It’s crazy. And journalists are known to have addictons to something. I forget the statistic. There is all this incriminating evidence posted on a website. No more. Haha, I said that yesterday and I was drunk by 7pm. Harsh. No, I’m cutting back. I’m running for President one day, I can’t have all these pictures floating about. Drink responsibly. I’m numbing my pain, fear, frustration, hurt, sorrow, stress…I could go on forever but I won’t.