When adults asked high school me what I wanted to be,
I told them I wanted to be a journalist,
because I thought that meant being a writer with a paycheck.
Now, when friends act surprised at how many questions I ask,
I remind them I’m a journalist – and they wonder if that part of me ever turns off.
It doesn’t.
Why turn off your why?
Have you ever wanted to break something?
I have a recurring fantasy about smashing wine glasses. It doesn’t have anything to do with potential metaphorical implications – they’re just small, and thin, and, if you’re going to do it, the point is shattering.
Not sure why that particular vision has stuck around my head so long, I just know that if I was to ever direct a scene in which metaphorical catharsis turned literal, that’s what the heroine would be doing.
Of course, here’s the problem with that – in said scene, you eventually end up with a crunchy carpet of broken glass, and, if the theoretical heroine is anything like me, she’d then feel obligated to sweep up.
That’s my main issue with rebellion. I’m all in favor of window smashing and flamethrowing – except I know how much work it takes to get to the point where you own a window, and I’ve seen how long it takes the scars to heal when someone gets burned.
Continue reading “What Fight the Power Means When You’re the Adult in the Room”
Why Satire and Journalism are Two Different Games
In pdf format, in case anyone feels like using this in a classroom (if you do, let me know! There’s a contact form at the bottom of this post). Speaking of comments, feel free to comment on the poll below, just please adhere to these three guidelines: No pornography, no trolling, no spam. Be your best self 🙂
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Elizabeth DeOrnellas 