i don't care

i picked up a random PNW sports section today that was a couple of weeks old. i read a piece on page 2 that fired me up ... for a second.

the piece was unconventional, smart and made me think about what was going through the writer's head when s/he approached the story. my first instinct was to call someone and share the story just as i always do when i run across a piece such as this. but after thinking about it, the "eh" in me took over and i tossed the section in the recycling bin and made myself a snack.

i feel terrible that i'm losing my passion as far as the industry -- and even good writing -- is concerned. hell, i was angry at myself when i started feeling this way not all that long ago, but i just can't bring myself to give two shits any longer.

wrong or right, i blame the layoffs, the downsizing and the bastardization of the profession for the apathy i feel. am i alone in this?

 

Bet you didn't toss your snack in the recycling bin.

Become a chef.

 

Maybe if you used proper capitalization, you wouldn't have such a shitty attitude, young man.

 

Capital Letters Are Our Friends.

 

If that story had been online, you could have emailed it to all your friends.

What kind of snack was it?

 

A cocktail.

 

When I read print stories that are less enlightening and shorter than posts on this blog make the front page or a section front I really wonder what the point is anymore.
I don't know why newspapers should expect its customers to appreciate their product when they don't. As sad as it must be to see respected and experienced colleagues end up sorting mail - isn't it similar to what readers see on their front porches every day. It's tough to see, you end up wanting to look away and remember the newspaper in better times.

 

i'd like to think there aren't that many folks who give their lives to their jobs, but a lot of the people i know in journalism have (had) a deep personal investment in their jobs and the industry.

i can't start to explain how it makes me feel to be disconnected from what i once held so dear.

i want to be angry at myself, but i can't ... which simply creates some strange void.

 

I have long since accepted that my job is simply that: it's just a job. It might still be my career, but I know there's a pretty good chance it won't even be that. So right now, it's just a job that I enjoy which pays the bills.

I still love what I do -- the day-to-day work, the assignments, the colleagues and the environment of the newsroom -- but I'm not willing to give my life to it anymore. I come to work, I do my best, I get my paycheck and I go home. Honest day's work, nothing more, nothing less.

I didn't always feel that way; I'll confess that working for Singleton beat it out of me. But I'm a lot happier now, having that healthy emotional detachment from my work. I still enjoy journalism, I still enjoy great reporting, great writing. But that type of journalism has a feeble heartbeat in newspapers these days. I can find it in magazines. I can find it in research, including my own. It's still out there.

But my line of work is something different now. And that's OK with me. It's just a job.

 

I guess I'm the third category. Newhouse is leaking oil, but not as fast. I still admittedly have an attachment to my work. The people there are my second family, have been for 28 years. It's not lost on me that I'm one of the fortunate ones.