I got into journalism because no other industry would have taken me. I don't know why I'm really doing this and still don't know what I want to do 'for a living'. My talents include taking the piss, writing and not caring. I guess that makes me an ideal worker for the media.
I bungled my English A-level first time around and had to go to Cardiff, which was my insurance offer. This upset me. As I am arrogant I refused to accept I would not be going to London, I re-took the exams I fucked up and passed them. I got an offer to UCL and went there.
I was thrilled to to be living on Gower Street in Bloomsbury and walking in front of the famous dome in WC1. It was amazing to think I was the 'best of the best' - the top few per cent. It fuelled my ego and sent me into a spiral of self love.
Sadly a prolonged bout of mental ilness dented my joy. That period is ongoing.
I got a job at a provincial news agency. This means I do jobs for national papers such as knock on people's door's when their kids dies, or go to the scene of serious accidents. Or speak with corners. Which is nice. I don't give a fuck about anyone I write about. I don't care about their families, if they have died, their kids have died or if anyone has died, including possibly my family (although I've yet to properly test this out.) I pretened to be upset when my grandparents died - that's not bravado or bragging by the way. Please try and believe me.
I didn't pay for university as I was too poor but left with massive debts. My inheritance from the death of my grandparents cleared some of it but there's still a five-figure sum, which is nice.
My job is getting me where I want to be. Where that is is respect and money.
Totally and truly, without and hint of irony whatsover, I can really say that I don't give a fuck about anyone but myself. I have pangs of 'stuff' but I just don't give a rat's arse.
This is an entirely pointless confession.
by 'Budding Journo' december 2004