A BRIEF TITLED DIARY OF AN UNPUBLISHED, SOCIALLY AWKWARD, ASPIRING FREELANCE JOURNALIST

LOG-IN no: 1

1st March, 2016

So then, I decided to kick start this diary from today after much in depth and careful decision making from last night’s hangover (too much coffee). I came  across my flare and innate talent for journalism some while ago and decided to waste no time in pursuing it. However,  most offices didn’t see  eye to eye with me on this and demanded that I produce some sort of a degree or award in the field. Having just unearthed my talent recently I had no such “official” degree behind me. It only fueled my passion for the work and I declared that I would make a name for myself as a freelance writer until I earned my stripes in the official institution of journalism  and proved my worth and passion to the industry. The chairman heard my hearty banter and had his two best bodyguards give me the  VIP treatment out the backdoor.  The kind of hands-on respect I deserved (no joke).

Brace yourself world,  there’s a new shark on the loose and it’s hungry for fresh,  unrefined, mature, unadulterated and truthful facts….  It’s a  very  specific shark.

I shall dig out stories from the deepest oceans,  the steepest mountains, the most bloodthirsty savannas, the darkest pits and the most treacherous rapids.  Generally  wherever there are fewer people.  Yeah I’m not a people lover.  As in,  I love some  people,  but not all. Like only some specific people do i love,  the rest are like passer-byers – if passer-byers were like slimy, slithery, droopy,  ewww slugs. What I’m saying is that some specific people are okay,  the rest really shouldn’t be there,  they throw me off my groove. I don’t think that you need people to tell a great story  to people. Just me,  my stuff, my story and then the people can come and applaud. And I shall smile.

I vow to uncover an unsung story every day

6th March, 2016

Okay maybe not everyday.  Cut me some slack,  art takes times.  Picasso  wasn’t born finger painting abstract art,  he developed  it over the years and died perfecting – and a bit of regretting – it.