Nobody has posted for a while so I decided to take the initiative and am going to embark on a rant about the crapness of Journalism and the sad, sad predicament I am in which will surely result in failure and, quite possibly, death.
By 5pm yesterday, NONE of my contacts had gotten back to me. I rang them all again at about 5.15, and, surprisingly, the guy at the Hawkesbury-Nepean CMA was still there and informed me that he had, in fact, received my email. Which prompts the question - why the fuck didn't he reply? Did he think I was hoping to write a news story which might be relevant in two weeks' time????????
He then tells me that all reports of their organisation receiving funding have been incorrect. This basically ruined the premise of my story, which was a delightful feeling. I was recommended by the CMA guy to ring the Hawkesbury Country Council something or other, which I did, and the guy there also says that nothing has been done, there is nothing planned, and, once again, reports stating otherwise are full, basically, of shyte.
I thought I might jump out a window, hope to break a leg, and thereby get out of writing my story. Alas, 'twas not to be. Instead I changed the angle of my story and managed to write the stupid thing and post it this morning, however, it put me in an extrememly grumpy mood and I expect to be avenging myself on the world for the next twenty one years.
I consoled myself, after finishing the story last night, by watching Commander in Chief and Boston Legal, and decided that after finishing my degree I will either become a press secretary and fire subordinates with great professional glee, or become a defence attorney who fishes in drains.
I would like a faux beaver hat. We're all friends to the animals here.
Current Music: The Blowers Daughter - Damien Rice