I’ve wanted to be a journalist for awhile now. But when I say journalist, I use that term loosely. I’m in the internal communications department for a science research company right now, and I write and gather information on company products and my coworkers. With this job, I would definitely not go around calling myself a journalist, but it is still similar work – research, story-telling…so it’s the same to me.
But months like this one make me wonder if I’m aiming for the wrong career altogether. From Brock Turner, to the UCLA gunman. From Orlando, to Jo Cox. Being actively interested and involved in the news is, so much of the time, just downright depressing. And addicting.
There’s a term called “tragedy porn” when you can’t stop reading and clicking away at really sad stories, pictures, etc. Most news sites basically revolve around this, as news is pretty much always a bummer. You’re 100 times as likely to see news stories with the words “death” or “abuse” or “scandal” then the headline “Citizen gets out of car in rush hour commute to help old lady cross street.”
And because of this, it’s often easy to think of the world as a tragic, evil place. I’ve too often left the internet thinking everyone in the world – besides me – must be a maniac. Sometimes, after the most intense news binges, I feel like I should even be afraid to leave my house.
If I feel this way now, do I even have a chance as a journalist? Would I become depressed, or an alcoholic? Would the job I love kill me?
My interest in this career may be a paradox, as I am generally very focused on positivity and good vibes in my daily life. It’d be nice if I could keep it that way and have my dream job as well.