A volcanic body

The fire on my wings rips and spits,
through the sparse high-atmosphere air,
and volcanoes erupt off my fiery body,
in a terrifying, and furious fashion.

Passion travels like lava,
through chasms of molten veins,
emotion pumps to the surface of my skin,
fueling the purifying flames of my inferno.

Whose are the eyes that I will burn out,
and whose are the eyes I will bless with beauty?

And if another comes along,
to extinguish my loud flames,
and put out my burning feathers,
who will be the one to reignite my soul?

The clock ticks and tocks

Life is just happening to me;
I’ve lost the forward momentum,
and found myself unable to catch it.

I don’t know where I’ve been,
or who I’ve been there with.

Unsympathetic hands blend in,
with those of sympathy,
and the world is a wall,
of gray, blurry hands;
both accepting,
and refusing me.

I stare out beyond my borders,
and see the distress,
and and the excitement,
of every opportunity;
yet find myself unable to act,
incapable of moving forward.

I am reminded that,
“Anything but forward is a waste of time,”
but how do I stop wasting time?

The clock ticks,
and tocks,
without solutions.

March 5, 2010

The freeze of indecision

A flurry of options culminate in,
a spectacular moment of indecision,
completely freezing my mind and willpower,
as icicles hang from a once passionate heart.

I try to climb the hill I was king off,
and I just can’t seem to find my footing,
the mud slides out from under my feet each step,
under the weight of my every mistake and heavy heart.

Even my dreams have begun their attack;
where I once found solace, peace, and understanding,
I know find demons, shadows, and the sting of my guilt.

For what, for whom, and why,
does this attack occur,
and manage to break me down,
when everything was rolling,
such a short while ago?

Am I too scared to look,
into the eye of the storm?

Have I let go for too long,
and lost touch of my reality?

Have I let my anchors become cut,
and drifted into this indifference,
from my safely secured, familiar life?

This was will be lost for insanity,
or maybe it becomes the victor,
of a vacant mind, a shell of what was,
and may neve be again.

and the old lyrics echo in my head;
“I know the piece fit,
because I watched them fall away;”
but what great architect,
can put this mess back together?

Only me.

The place passion died

Passion seemed to die,
in the corridors of broken dreams,
that once shone with the power of a thousand suns,
and now sit, burnt-out, smoldering.

That’s the way life is,
for some people, who have trouble getting out of bed,
because there life has fallen apart at the seams,
and help is an echoing voice in the distance,
down one out of a series of darkened, degraded hallways.

A phantom hope wanders aimlessly,
on your better days you can almost feel it,
and on your worst it’s a shameful reminder of your potential,
imagine what you could have been,
if you only tried.

Imagine all of the burnt-out people,
who had ambition, and hope deep inside of their hearts,
but ran face-first into a cold wall of despair named reality,
where motivation is a one-man band playing on your own street corner,
collecting the right amount of change to eat sometimes,
but never enough to keep on living.

That’s when potential died,
in the gutters with change,
where reality swallowed it whole,
and motivation became a foreign dream.

To date or not to date

When you’re hanging out with somebody, when is it considered a date, as opposed to just hanging out?
I had a discussion this afternoon with a friend, and we were tossing around ideas about it. I felt it was an interesting topic, that many of us have thought about, and it should be discussed further.
Let’s start at the beginning; what is a date?
I would like to define a date as a plan to hang out with somebody, who you have a romantic interest in, and are interested in feeling out in person. The crucial part of that sentence is the “in person” ending.
It is evident social media has changed the way we meet, and get to know, potential love interests. Whether it’s through meeting people online, through facebook, or one of the still-wrongly-stigmatized dating websites, the game has changed.
You can get to know somebody very well through online interactions. I’ve had close friends I had never met in person, and whether I met them through social media, chatting, or online video games, some of those friendships were much stronger then some of the face-to-face friendships I had.
Let’s get back to the topic of dating. When you make plans with somebody, how do you know if it’s a date? Well, sometimes you get that funny, sometimes awkward, moment when one of the daters(datees?) will joke about how it is a date, which solidifies it as a date most of the time. Aside from that, it’s actually hard to tell.
I’ve gone out for coffee, or a movie, or a walk, with several girls, and was not sure if it was a date. I’ve had feelings for some of them, some of them had feelings for me, but does that make it a date?
I don’t know if there is a way to tell what is, and was it not, a date.
The better question to ask is whether it needs to be classified as a date for it to be romantically significant. I don’t think it does.

Savage, savage ghosts

Your empty shell greets me,
with a mirrored, sad smile,
and we know what we’ve done,
and what we’ve been through.

It hasn’t gotten easier,
and the rain won’t wash away,
all the rough moments,
and killer mistakes.

The past is too strong,
for you, me, and us especially,
we can never forget it,
not now, not ever.

What did you mean to me?
Well, what does it matter?
It ended for me then,
despite the shadows.

They play on the wall,
in my weaker moments,
and I watch them dance,
and laugh,
go unnoticed,
and cry.

Your shadows have become you,
in the purest form they could;
raw emotions and infancy,
no more rational filter.

Is it your rain dance,
or will it bring the sun?

Well, which would you prefer?

You savage, savage ghosts;
the way your tears join the rain,
and the way you dance in the sun,
confuses my dreams, memories,
and the memories of my dreams.

I float on an island,
a flying object approaches;
a bird, an angel, or death?
A mirage for the insane?

White walls rise,
the phantoms wail,
and life continues,
so very peacefully.

You are no stronger now

And you return every time,
to bring your malice and love,
even when it’s not welcome any longer.

Why can’t you feel the rust,
that grows on the outside of my heart,
from all of your unnecessary tears and the rain;
you tried to drown me in the flood,
now I can swim in the hurricane.

You were never enough,
when we were together,
with your love or hate;
you’re no stronger now.

My soul was always like Greek Fire;
too complex for you to understand,
too strong for your flames of hatred,
and a secret lost to you forever.

My flames never die when I stoke them,
the embers from ours died too long ago.

The past two weeks; journalism and career perspective

Over the last two weeks, I’ve been fortunate enough to get a lot of practical experience in journalism. I’ve gone through the interviews I spoke of in my last blog post, but also accomplished so much more than that. It began a week ago, when I attended a press conference at Laurentian University where the provincial government announced funding for Sudbury’s three post-secondary institutions, you can read my article about it here. It was a great experience to attend such a high profile press conference, which featured John Milloy, Minister of Training, Colleges and Universities, and Minister of Research and Innovation, as well as MPP Rick Bartolucci, and the presidents of the three institutions.
I was also fortunate enough to travel with the Cambrian volleyball teams for the weekend, and cover what it is like to go on the road as a varsity athlete. The article will be available in the new edition of the Shield (which can be picked up at Cambrian College for free, and is being released next week), and you can also read the results from the weekend here. It was a memorable experience to be on the road with the teams, even though I had gone through the experience of being a varsity athlete in the fall. It was much different covering it from the eyes of a journalist, where observation was crucial, and getting into the “zone” for playing was non-existent.
I was fortunate enough to meet several new friends, on both of the teams. There are a lot of quality people on the squads, it was my pleasure to report on their journey, and I hope that our paths cross more often.
The past couple weeks has made me wonder about journalism, and if I could see myself being a journalist as a career choice. Over the long-term, I’m still doubtful. As a short-term career, I think it has a lot of potential. Ideally, I would like to do a couple of years of journalism, finish a master’s degree, work for a post-secondary institution and improve it’s quality of education, and hopefully write a few books. Maybe then I’ll settle down and teach. Nobody knows what the future holds, but I believe mine will be a bright one.

What I am now, is nothing compared to what I will be

The past two weeks have been very important for me. I’ve had the privilege of doing some interviews for articles I’m writing, and I was able to learn a lot of interesting things. I also had the privilege of having a job interview with Laurentian University for their new position of Web and Social Media Marketing Intern. First off, I did not get the job, but was on the short list of candidates.
I would like to speak about a few other things before discussing that.
I had the opportunity to sit down with Chris Mercer, chief of staff of Laurentian University for an interview concerning an article I’m working on. The article will be on College students transferring into University after they are finished at college, primarily. During the interview, we spoke of the directions that Laurentian is going, the social media landscape, and I found out that the job I applied for in December, was still vacant. I was privileged to interview Laurentian President Dominic Giroux, who also informed me about Laurentian’s vision moving forward. In my opinion, there are great things on the horizon for Laurentian University.
Aside from the professional portion of my discussions with them, we were also able to talk on a personal level. It was nice to gain some outside perspective on how my life is going, and on my potential for the future. The support I’ve been given from individuals such as Cambrian’s Irene Nizzero, Laurentian/Fraser Strategies’ Conway Fraser, Laurentian’s Julie Lacroix and Chris Mercer has been overwhelmingly positive. The support from my friends has also been positive, whether I’m speaking of my journalism comrades such as Nic Dugas, Ron Guillet, or Stephanie Daoust; my long-term friends Kyle Chapados, Jay Ceskauskas, and Justin Ceskauskas; or my family, which is to say, mostly Edward, but also my parents to some degree. Thank you all for your support, and for your kind advice.
This brings me to the point of this blog: moving forward from here. Getting rejected is never an easy thing, in life or in love, especially when it’s for a job that one feels they are more than qualified for. My credentials spoke for themselves, and the interview went well, to be modest about it. I have no regrets about trying for the job, or about being rejected for it.
My one issue with an interview like the one I had, is the value of my ideas. I pitched some great ideas about how to get students engaged with the University, what sort of avenues to reach out to students on, and what marketing policies will actually grab people’s attention. The marketing side of things is not my strongest feature, and I’m sure the marketing department already has their own ideas about it. The social media aspect of it all, and the ideas I pitched there, are the point of conflict for me.
During the interview I outlined a communications strategy for connecting with students, and decreasing the divide between the institution and the student body. Several of these ideas should, and I imagine will, be used in some form or another, by the University.
Does that bother me? The short answer is yes. I thought of those ideas, I researched those ideas and I presented those ideas. I will not receive credit for those ideas, thanks for those ideas, or consultation about where those ideas go. Basically, I sat down for a 45 minute interview, expounded a ton of ideas about social media, and ways it can be used to market to students, Then I wrote a half hour test that involved designing a marketing strategy for two separate real-life marketing situations (of which I will not discuss due to the confidentiality I feel the University deserves concerning their interview process). In a nutshell, my ideas were free.
So what bothers me about it? Ideas are common, but good ideas are hard to come by. Some of the ideas I pitched are good ideas. They will allow the University to launch a new marketing campaign using social media, which is an area of true weakness with a lot of post-secondary education institutions in my opinion, and have very real implications for the University. Usually when you bring somebody in to consult you, and give you fresh new ideas, it’s on a paid basis.
Some people may suggest that this is just part of the game of job interviews, but I find that hard to accept. It seems to be a catch 22: if I throw out these great ideas, I increase my chances of landing the job, but If I save them, I definitely will not be hired. It’s a tricky situation, and I don’t think there’s anything that can be done about it in favour of the interviewee. In this case, it felt very much as if I were a student at the institution once more but instead of feeding ideas for free to professors, it was to a marketing department.
All of that being said, I hold no ill will towards the University, and do not feel they’ve acted wrongly in any way, shape or form. This concept is bigger than a single institution, or single interviewee. I enjoyed the experience of walking into a room and being questioned by three individuals who I did not know, about a topic I truly care for. It was wonderful to have the chance to discuss social media, and its importance, with a committee of persons employed by a university which I am fond of.
The first thought that came into my mind when I got the phone call informing me I did not get the job, was my inability to speak and write french fluently. With a bilingual institution like Laurentian, that is a major setback to one’s employment chances I believe.
In this day and age, should it be though? I don’t believe so, and could spend hours arguing the merits of my point, but it is not worth dwelling on that point.
Maybe I just wasn’t good enough. Failure is something a person has to face, and become stronger for facing. I’ve always identified the phoenix as the mythical creature that represents me the best, and now everybody is going to see the truth in my selection. A new fire has been lit, and there will be no stopping it. What I am now, is nothing compared to what I will become.

A Machivellian education?

I recently read an essay in my Advanced Reporting class concerning Machiavellian ethics and journalism. The essay claimed that most American journalists lived by a Machiavellian system of ethics (which is primarily an ‘ends justifies the means’, and ‘success is all that matters’ sort of ethics policy.) I have been thinking about how much of that applies to my current life-style.
So how does this lifestyle apply to being a student? One word: Competition. All of us journalism students are competing against each other, whether we like it or not. We compete for marks, for stories, for contacts, and eventually, for jobs. In the media market, jobs are terribly scarce, which makes competition remarkably high.
I don’t feel any ill will towards my fellow journalism students, in fact I enjoy most of their company thoroughly (Hi Jess(y/ica), Ron, Steph, Nic/k, Joel, Ashlee, Corrine, Alli, Michael, Daniel, Heather, etc, etc, etc), but I realize we are in some unspoken competition. Truth be told, most of us will never be journalists.
Most of us will probably choose another career or go back to school. A limited number of us will hop into the journalism field, and might even make a full career out of it.
Back to the main topic at hand though, Machivellian ethics as they relate to my student life. I always feel like I need to do more with my life. What if I am not doing enough?
I am progressing well through school, working two jobs, playing 4-5 nights a week of sports, keeping up to date on current affairs, keeping my twitter/facebook/linked-in/blog up-to-date, maintaining friendships (as well as most I guess), going on dates rarely, partying occasionally, volunteering for several different groups, and even managing time for reading.
Am I successful enough as a 23 year old student? If you read my resume you will notice; I’ve got my bachelor of art with honours, I’m working on a history degree, I’ve held down several long-term, and varied, jobs, I have done a great deal of volunteering, and I have several diverse skills that makes me (feel) unique.
In the end, I always ask if I am successful, and if I could be doing more. I don’t know the answer. Common sense suggests I may be doing too much, but what am I willing to sacrifice to become successful?
What does it even mean to be successful? I don’t know, but I’m gunning for it.