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Journalism As It Is

16 Jun

Let’s start with saying that no profession is a cakewalk. But they say we can be happy doing what we truly love to do, no matter how complicated or challenging it can get.

Journalism is considered to be one of the most interesting but at the same time the most difficult professions.

The reason why I’m writing all this is to express my negative point of view about the profession that I’m going to choose.

You are free to disagree with me but I think that journalism is too dependent. If you work for some magazine or a TV company, you are expected to consider the policy of the employee. There is no way you can do what you want when people who hire you have an individual format and they fight for it. For example, you will have to do an exactly that kind of a reportage you are expected to do. You will have to study the previous work of the institution you work for and put into practice this or that pattern. Things can go really crazy: the editor can either transform your article beyond recognition or give you his own words to write so the work could match “the pattern”. I consider this way of a journalists’ work to be wrong and irrational. First of all it excludes journalism from the list of creative professions. Obviously creative work, or art which it is, can’t exist without freedom of choice and creative individual thinking. Also there is no chance a professional writer, a journalist can grow up in his field being stuck in one unchangeable format. You can’t broaden your mind or change for better if all you do is follow strict examples and don’t change at all. You have to try yourself in different styles, you have to find your own one; a good professional should be flexible. To grow up, to change something you have to quit your comfort zone. Moreover if you want your business or your job to be successful you shouldn’t stop at some points. If you feel that you are the best or you’ve reached all the big success you should start moving to another side, try something new. If you stop you may just become a piece of shit.

Another problem is journalism being all about “write the way all people could understand it”. Writing some stupid and inelaborate stuff for stupid people who don’t want to think is overwhelming. There is a great chance that you will be made to write about such dull and unnecessary things like personal life of celebrities or the City’s Day concert. This isn’t important, you don’t help people, you don’t write about the real problems and that interesting way the planet is moving. But to my great disappointment stupid news are demanded by people, it’s just what they want. So a journalist is a bitch of the society.

Spending all the time in the water of stupid events and uncreative work can make a person be the fish of his working river. This is an opposite process of growing up and becoming better as a professional.

Sometimes when I think about the work a journalist has to do it makes me wanna puke. Just one simple example: I am to interview some famous musician. From my point of view the interview should go about music, art, thoughts, feelings and so on. How can I accomplish my own task if I have to talk about a singer’s pregnancy? How can I be a great professional if I am told the way I should write? Steve Jobs said “It doesn’t make sense to hire smart people and then tell them what to do; we hire smart people so they can tell us what to do.” There’s no need to explain how these words are related to journalism.

With all the bad things I have described I still think that you can turn journalism to an opposite side. If one wants journalism to be creative work, if one wants independence of writing and working with really interesting stuff he or she should create its own “journalism platform”. Let it be a magazine for example. But this idea will work out only when really hard work, talent, strong will, revolutionary ideas, the ability to put people together and money become a unified power.

It’s necessary to say that journalism is a great way to write stupid things out of your head and your writing style. But it’s for those who decided to go down the road where journalism is just 1 mile highway full of bricks and tricky turns.

It’s necessary to admit that being a journalist can get you some necessary acquaintances.

I think it’s great that I realized all these things so early. It means I won’t face too much disappointment in future.

This or that way you are to choose your own life. I believe that hard work, a desire and a talent can get you any type of journalism. We are to decide what to do. No one said it’s gonna be easy, but still no one said it’s impossible.

A don’t-care type of guy

7 Apr
I so don’t care.
I’m done with this entire round-shaped world.
The only “entire” thing left in me is the bottle of red wine.
I don’t wanna think.
I wanna thank. That this moment came.
Finally came to purify me and take some silliness away.
I don’t care about school; I don’t care about what a teacher will put me tomorrow, don’t care how big the prison of stupid tasks and work will be. I so don’t care how much I will sleep and eat. I feel nothing for almost all the people, for almost all the events. I don’t listen to what they say, I don’t feel how they try to hurt me.
I let all the feelings go. I’m empty like that entire bottle of wine. All I see is pure white. The endless infinity of white world.
I’m not scared of the future. I don’t care what I will have to do.  I’ve got everything I need. I’ve got the sense to live and my person. I’m completely indifferent what steps I will have to make to reach, I will do. I’m not afraid. Even if I don’t enter a university I will stay calm because I know that everything happens for a reason. I will take any chance to grow up and develop myself. When I let my fear go I realized that I’m able to think clearly, act naturally and understand things. While I stay calm I can go on, go up and never down.
I’m not overwhelmed. I stopped worrying about my mental problems, about my core and my… unperceived, unconditional, uncontrolled and purely natural choice.
I let my anger go. I forgave all people that ever hurt me; I forget all the bad things. Eventually the chaos in my head started turning into a slightly seen bunch of shelves. Unless this is not the impassable, inexplicable and interfering with my work eternal chaos.
I built a wal l. Made of glass. Nobody and nothing can get through it. If they can’t break the wall they can’t get me and fill with their stupidity and misery. They won’t distract me and show the wrong way.
This is my golden time to work and develop in order to become the spirit. This is only for two people in the whole world now.
I don’t care about the world I know. I mean the law, absurd, routine, boring and absoulutely hypocritical part of the World.

“If the world is so wrong then you can FUCK them all with one song!” yeah?

 

I’ll create a new world. THE ONE, my own.
Some will come, something will be gone.
Art and love are those things having sense, the first will go through time, the second one will watch me burn.
I’ll still dream on!
I will never come undone.

Amy Winehouse

8 Jan

This is not dedicated to her death or birthday anniversary. It’s about Amy’s art.

She was always laughed at. Paparazzi did their job well taking pictures of her drunk or “ridiculus”. But  the moment she died was the upgrade of her career. The minute ago she was the dirt, the next moment “Back To Black” is on the top of Billbord and her creative work is risen up to the skies.

Amy was a gifted girl. She has opened the sacred secret of love and feelings.

Her songs reflect pain, sorrow, not sadness, grief, tears and … humility. She wasn’t protesting, didn’t maked a big show of “words-and-no-deeds”. She sang soul songs. Painful, profound and inconsolable songs.

When I plunge her songs I fell that she loved and failed, loved so much she died. Amy burned black, died for love in all ways, ispecially physically. They said she needed rehab, drugs killed her. Of course journalists are good at overplaying and telling lies. They will raze to the ground anyone to get a great blatant story.

“Love is loosing game”. She wished she had never played this game. Life is a loosing game, Amy, yes? We all are seeking the raison d’etre even in semirandom events. We all can’t admit that we’ll die and will never care again about anything. There is nothing there. What a wonder to find your love and stop seeking because you already know the answer. How great and priceless it is. How painfully it hits.

Amy Winehouse failed. Like all of us will do. Some people will call this “the path of least resistance”. But he walked away and never came back. The grief and pain she had to face. So much was cried out and written out.

And those people and mass media. Their “Rehabilitaion”. She didn’t care. Didn’t want to go there. Because she already knew the end.

Amy Winehouse burned to ashes, she knew everything and was ready. Why suffer, why wake up alone, why suffer?

Some of us will see a crazy addict bitch, some of us wil see a girl who was killed by love.

And one more thing that irritates. 27 years old, alcohol, drugs, music, death… This is the classic Rock’n’Roll story. How much money those madmen got. But they don’t see the tragedy. This  cynicism afficts so much. Those morons trivialize music and art.

“They tried to make me go to rehab but I said no, no, no! I ain’t got the time”. Don’t go.

Do you yearn? Because I do.

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New York me, please! Just do it!

5 Jan

2012 was a super shitty year. It was a killing-dreams-sucking-the-life-out-harsh-and-disappointing year. Life is always unfair, it brings down. Unsolved problems and unfulfilled dreams bring down. But when a new year comes we try to forget and forgive. Forget all the problems because people prone to be fed with the hope even when the fridge is empty. Forgive people and ourselves because there is no point in cherishing hatred. Even those who have a broken bottle of wine instead of a heart secretly believe in love. New Year is the summing up of all we’ve done and felt during one year. Everybody believes in what I have just written. You know why? Because we think that the next year is the next chance. One more trial, one more step and attempt and maybe our dreams will come true. Everybody is miserable, some people realized it and some of them still stay in a dark room waiting for a guiding light. Those are happy who become blind after they spend 100 years in a dark room.

As for me I have realized everything. But please don’t judge me just for dreaming.

My answer is always New York. This is the “boiling point”, “the reference point”. The place where a life begins.

Is there anything more beautiful than Times Square during New Year’s Eve or Monica Bellucci? Let’s talk about the Big Apple.

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I watched the video in YouTube. That was the biggest shake of the New Year. Can you imagine? Times Square, New York City, 1 million people around counting out 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and HAPPHY NEW YEAR! The small plaza exploded with fireworks, confetti, shouts, hugs, kisses, flashes, smiles and tears! Oh I was suffering! Goosebumps could have devoured me! This video fucking tore me apart.

Now some words about how I spent the New Year Eve.

I stayed at my place, ate food and watched House M.D. That is exactly what I did the year before. It is even symbolic. With elements of pathetics and irony. If to look back on my life one can see it is a big ironic ass kick.

Why at home? You know rock stars never have friends, never ever, yeh?

I am the one who rewies different movies or series for many times. House is my favorite one. Maybe I just wanted to meet a New Year with someone I love…

I also admit that I was depressed for some period of time, the fact that I’m writing means I’m done with rehabilitation. I’m pure, virgin pure. It’s time to look for the cure!

The cure is the black and white Rock’n’Roll – the quintessence of everything. This is not about 30 Seconds to Mars, Marilyn Manson or other cheap shit. Enough!

Now I wanna show my “Inspirational Letter”. It is to help me keep on moving and breathe. This is just placebo but never mind.

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Charging… Clear! He’s back. The cockroach’s back!

He knows that one day he will be there, no matter what way, doen’t matter what number, being one of the million is even better because nobody cared about psy and other “stars” who were stupidly standing in the “special star place”. Fuck them, fuck their gangnam style, all the shit is in sewage.

Brokeback Mountain Forbidden Love

30 Aug

You only see what your eyes want to see.

You’re frozen when youre heart’s not open.

Madonna

2 days ago I would say there is no movie to be compared with “Titanic”. I was wrong. There is another beautiful and tragic story, meaningful, covering the truth of life and love. “Brokeback Mountain” excited me the strongest way. It is a particle of light; it is art. We should consider it from the artistic point of view. This is not about gays, not about bisexuals either; it’s about the core of love and humanity. As soon as I consider this work as art my point of view becomes ultra-subjective, because everyone has the truth, the truth of art is very personal because the artist leaves only questions to be answered by those who get affected. Nothing is right and nothing is wrong. It’s all about impression and emotions. How can we judge leaves for being green?

Why is this story so grim and heartbreaking, breathtaking? It illuminates the harsh truth of modern society and eternal problems, tragedies.

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Why not about gays if we can see two men having sexual experience with each other?  Because it is all about pure love. This feeling doesn’t know boundaries, limits, ages, sexes or nationalities. This movie, this book tell that love which is not a conception of some stereotypes or shapes that society has created. We can’t judge leaves for being green, you remember?

Now I’d like to say some words about homophobes who denied watching the movie despite the actors were just perfect. Heath Ledger and Jake Gyllenhaal are truly outstanding actors. People who don’t understand the main idea only see what their eyes want to see. They see two gays or bisexuals who have sex, which is just disgusting. I see another picture. This is not about my sexual orientation, I just can go deeper. Once you really fall in love you understand that the rest of people and the rest of life gets white and stays backstage.

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I can see that love in this work of art was spontaneous; it was on fire for a long time. I don’t give a fuck if they were men or women or heterosexual, I can see the beauty and perfection. What makes us get up and die, get up and die… From time to time we could think that the fire stopped but it never did. This love embraced pain, tears, happiness and pureness. That passion in which rare meetings added fuel to the fire… Have you ever fell in love?

But the story broke my heart. Even not the story but the catalyzer of all bad things happened there. People… sweet beautiful people. The society, from the capitol “S”. The society which the humanity is so proud of. That is the main problem. Have you ever been miles away from your love? Have you ever had the experience of not kissing your love for a long period of time? Wouldn’t you be angry or despair? People didn’t give those characters a chance to be just happy, just to live their own lives like all we do. Do you fucking think that you are damn gods to decide what’s right and what’s not? So the influence of people is the symbol of how some representatives of humanity are being stupid and don’t know they are destroying others. And the fact the love was “forbidden” means that we are going to rot in the hole of our own prejudices, idiotic worldview and fighting for what we really don’t know anything about. The end of the story as we know is sad. The death of Jack was ambiguous, from the one hand he died accidently, from the other hand he was murdered by homophobes. This is the symbol of people’s hypocrisy. When they say “It was an accident, but in the reality it’s all a big piece of shit, because it was a murder, intentional murder, the crime against humanity, against love. This means people kill love, kill life. After Jack’s death Ennis was alone in the trailer park, he didn’t die, but he was never in this world again. The last his words we can hear were “Jack, I swear” with tears on his eyes, touching Jacks’s shirt tucked inside of Enni’s one as the symbol of eternity and immovability of love. Love can’t die, it just moves to other dimensions. “I swear” to love, to remember, to never give up on you…

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There is no sexuality, no orientation, no argues, nothing, ‘cause when it’s love you gotta fly. I’m not going to waste my time on those who can’t understand this, whose “love” is limited by sex, presents, walks and sex. I’m talking about something more profound. This just is not your business. I may be not the best writer, not the best “feelings-expresser” but I can feel in my heart. My heart’s breaking when I realize how many jerks ruin other’s lives, when they try to make leaves be black. Love is so rare, so catch it, run to it, never let it go, it is so rare… Find your sense in art/love which is actually the same.

1 gloomy birthday 6

17 Aug

Something strange, non-understandable but that’s how I roll

I can’t believe it’s true! I am 16, I am a high school senior, I got a passport. It seems to me that all these 16 years I was waiting for something huge. Let’s be honest. All of us think that we are something outstanding, something that is in the sky, far away from such crap as money, commitment, society or words of people we don’t know and will never meet.
My life is always about something fatal. Like death, getting a brand new family which I hate, having almost only girls as friends, meeting the femme fatale who changed my life forever, falling in love, knowing how it hurts and finally making a brave face because you never want to show how much you are scared about the future.

There are two worlds in me: the valley of death and the statue of liberty. The first tries to make me die, the second one is the fire that is burning in my heart and eyes. The cruel world tries to bring me down and drag me into the abyss of death. I have to run. I have to fight. I have to fly. I have to crucify. I have to resurrect. I have to be brave and strong. The thing that I have never fallen down on my knees is just a miracle. But I believe in miracles.

The problem is that I still can’t understand myself. Who am I? Who am I living for? What am I living for? I don’t know what to choose. I am split into two. I want to be a journalist and a physician. But I realize it can’t be both. So what should I choose? I have only 15 days left. I don’t want to spend 10 years learning and after all discover that I don’t want to be a physician. But if I choose journalism I’m afraid to connect myself with something I don’ like. And it’s not about advice or money or career. It’s all about me. It’s all about what I love more, what kind of person I will become.

One of the worst things of my existence is that I live in Ukraine. I want to live and work in the USA, to be with my soul mate, just become happy. I don’t want to be miserable. The only way for me is to get education in the US which means entering a college. My stepfather is an idiot; my mother is too busy with her work so I have to think about my education myself. I can work hard, I don’t complain about it. But when I realize how much fucking aspects of getting this education I’ll have to face I understand that for me it is a very heavy baggage. I’m just sixteen, I am inexperienced, poor, I started thinking only some time ago so I don’t know how to keep all this under control. I hate the world religion. I hate paper they pray for. I want to be something more than that. What if paper and numbers will cut the head of my dream? This is so stupid! So fucking stupid! All these tuitions, governments, laws, immigration services, all those motherfuckers I mean racist, homophobic, angry people get me down. I have to fight with this abyss of ignorance before it devours me. It’s all or nothing, sink or swim.

I’m not a pessimist, I’m just a bit pensive. But keep my head high. I never give up. I promise to my music, to my person, to the emptiness that I will burn cities, I will fly if not then I will crawl, but I will never cut my fingers and build a coffin! I’m gonna build my Empire State Building, I’m gonna be on its top, I’m gonna find the biggest bullhorn and scream DREAM ON DREAM ON DREAM ON DREAM ON!!!! by Aerosmith. No matter what way I will choose I will try… Try to do everything I am told and taught. Never forget and never leave alone. I will feel! In heart!

This piece of something, I don’t really know how to name it correctly but this is some kind of confession of guy who is so lonely that has to write all this crap because there’s no one really around to hear me and understand me. My dreams are miles away. I hope that many years will pass and I will read my article again. Smiling, laughing, because I’m not alone and everything is alright. This is the period of changing, so I believe that no matter how much we all will have to suffer we will finally see our own light at the end of the tunnel. Out of darkness.

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Love

12 Jul

Love

I said I’d never write about love. But I couldn’t help. I want to write about how painful loving the one who will never be with you is.

All of us know the feeling when there’s something wambling and wambling in your stomach. It’s like rolling from a 400 feet hill down when your suprarenal glands release adrenaline and all you can is to soundlessly scream inside and barely breath.

So the grimmest things are: the fact that you can’t say how much you love the person and that in some days you’ll have to leave and will never see this person again…

Memories:

I won’t tell the name of my love, I will just call it “this person” or “it”. It will be less painful for me. From the moment I first saw this person I could never think I would fall in love with it. It only proves that love doesn’t know any special canons or prejudices. It proves there is no perfect personality for me. The only I can say about this person is that it is married, in its twentieth, has a child and is not a person of an extraordinary appearance. But this person is clever, witty, wise, interesting, has a great sense of humor and is charming. Just in few hours I realized that I need this person around to help me keep on breathing. I spent almost all my days just being in one room and listening to Courtney Love, Placebo, Marilyn Manson, Amy Winehouse, Evanesence and Madonna waiting for the time I could see my person again. When it was around I was some kind like drunk, like in euphoria, but when my love was not around there was a clod in my throat and I felt pain in my throat and stomach. I should also mention that the place I met this person was in one city in Russia, where I came for 10 days to see my relatives. I have also to mention that the person I fell in love with is not my relative but lived in the neighboring flat and visited the place I lived often. With each passing day I realized I would have to leave for Ukraine soon. So my grief was multiplying. In some moments it hurt more than always. For example when I saw its child and saw that they had the same crystal blue eyes. Or when this person was sitting next to me and watching some stuff on my notebook and then I went to another room to have a mean and when I came back I could still feel the smell of my its body. Or when I was just walking somewhere and could feel the smell of its car. Or when I had to watch my person’s wedding video, where this person is happy not with me, where it promise to love someone else forever and you have to seem to be smiling, to be happy for them. This was just unbearable. Knowing I will never have a chance to hear those Russian notes in voice that accentuate all vowel sounds…  But anyway in the city where there are no friends of mine this person became some kind of my friend, supporting life in me. After all the doom day of coming back home was about to hug me hard. There are no words to describe how painful and… how painful it was. But I had to face it. I had to be strong all the time. Nobody had the right to see my soul, to understand my condition. I think that time is the best healer so I need some time for recovery. I came back home scary and broken.

How does it feel when your love is the biggest secret you ever happened to have. How does it feel when the person you love is your biggest fear? This is the secret you cannot even discuss with your mind. This secret makes you forget about all principles like being yourself and telling the truth. So you don’t know who you are anymore. This is the moment you realize you are being changed. Yes, people do change. Of course this is completely not about telling the truth to the person you love.

In such moment you understand that no one is going to get you, but this is my guilt only. So you make a brave face put on a smile and try to forget that no fucking philosophers’, psychologists’ and friends’ advice will even slightly come to the point of helping you. The best anyone can do is to give you a good friend hug. And the only thing to help is tequila or red wine.

Being ready is being sure in the place and in the person you are going to share your pain or anything else with. So I’m not ready and won’t be ready for a long time more.

03.07.2012

14:54

Russia

“Memories”:

11.07.2012

18:18

Somewhere in Ukraine