With the vultures

Vultures get a bad rap. They really don’t mean any harm. I haven’t had the time to blog for quiet a while now, internships with newspapers take a surprising amount of time.

Maybe I’m lying to myself, maybe it isn’t just all the work I’m stuck with. I do have a tendency to be nomadic with my interests but I don’t let it worry me. Nomads always stick to trodden paths.

The internship is a funny preoccupation. I’m there because I have to be. I’d say I don’t like them, that they’re a bunch of propagandists but I can’t get myself to do it. They’re nice people honestly. It’s downright bizarre how well they all get along. And scary how pleasant faces can pen dangerous spins.

There are time when I feel like it’s hell. Do well and they give you more work. All day, Sunday to Saturday. Feel too tired to care about bylines really. In the heart of a corporate machine my emotions surprise me. But you do end up enjoying it eventually.

If there’s a memory I fear that’s going to haunt me it’s standing in a dusty hospital in the cities outskirts with other interns grinning about getting a big story, smelling blood and realizing we were there because their blood was our livelihood.

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