Music to my ears. Literally.

But not just any music. Loud base reverberating around what I could tell, even without looking, would be a large refurbished studio in an old brick building with creaky wood floors and 360-degree mirrors. The kind of place that triggers every dancer’s memory with smells of old wood, leather and sweat — not to mention the pain of delightfully blistered toes.

Without thinking, I bolted across the street and up three flights of stairs.

At the Mad Dance House reception desk, a smiling blonde bombshell with a tight bun greeted me and offered me a tour. She took me through four studios where jazz, contemporary, hip-hop and ballet classes were underway. I was so excited that I bought a five-class pass on the spot and sat waiting for the next one to start.

Unluckily for me, as someone who mostly studied ballet and contemporary, the next class was hip-hop. But I decided to take my chances. I looked totally out of place — the only person not wearing baggy clothes and neon, over-sized trainers — but the instructor instantly put me at ease. Tammi was hilarious and beautiful with contagious energy.  Although it took me most of the class to lose my trained ballet form, I had more fun than I’d had since hanging up my dancing shoes more than two years ago.

After that first taste I wanted to go back again, right away. So the next night I hit up jazz class. The choreography wasn’t my style — think robots in a kick line — but the instructor was just as lovely as the last.

In just a few short days, I easily used up my five-punch card. And, ironically, the classes I liked best were all hip-hop. You may see me dancing down the halls or practicing choreography in the elevator. But rest assured, you won’t catch me wearing pumped up kicks and baggy pants any time soon.

By the time I reached my last year of High School, I realized I couldn’t just sit around, contemplating things so far out of my horizon and yet somehow barely concentrating on the chaotic and vibrant world that was going on just outside my line of vision. The thought of going out into the big wide world was incapacitating for me, someone who until a few months ago had a panic attack when I had to answer the phone or get on a bus. But I knew I had to do something to force myself out of my contained, controlled world and into something different. Not only to further my education but also to better myself as a person.

The decision to study journalism came halfway through the year, mainly because; I liked the news (not completely, but there was an interest there), I had perceived it as a potential career prospect more than a few times, and I had already been writing articles (bland, colurless, boring articles, but articles nonetheless).

I experience an eternal conflict between my inability to believe I am capable of doing things, and this yearning to prove wrong to the people who believe I am simply a boring, arrogant or dull person.

This odd mixture of capability, incapability, desperation, depression, confidence and doubt leaves me in a limbo I have no choice but to rally against, and have been rallying since I was young, and I relish in a chance to push myself further out into the world and expand my knowledge through the remainder of this course.

The menu looked amazing, boasting flame-grilled burgers with tasty toppings like avocado, greens, Kenilworth cheddar, onion jam, beetroot, fried egg, roast eggplant and sweet potato.

Once we’d picked our poison — the Swiss Miss and a side of chips for me, an American in Noosa for my Canadian friend and the Sheepish Sheik for the local Brisbanite — we hunkered down to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Nearly 40 minutes later, our food arrived — cold and sans chips.  We were too hungry to complain, so we kept eating.

Instead of the burgasm I’d been expecting, my well-done burger was almost burnt. My friend’s medium was hardly cooked at all. The patty was overwhelmed by a massive white bun and overly prominent sharp cheese. It also felt like our meals were missing something. It wasn’t until afterwards we realized they’d forgotten to even put tomatoes on our burgers.

By the time the chips arrived, we’d almost finished our cold, questionably-cooked burgers. The handmade, real-potato-style chips — with the skins on — were an improvement to the burgers. Sadly, the server forgot our tomato sauce and we were stuck dipping in an overly creamy garlic aioli.

Thanks to the cold, lacklustre food and non-existent service, my friends and I agreed we wouldn’t be going back.

Rating: 4/10

A lot of people started their blog with a quote so I figured I could do that to.

Prior to studying at Jschool I was a man who read too much and used his brain too little causing me to waste much of my quiet time pondering the deeper meanings of the universe.

As pointless as all my pondering was I could not help myself.

I had this innate curiosity which drove me to read about anything and everything, but this came hand in hand with a lack of direction.

Because I enjoy reading about everything it made it difficult to focus on one thing.

So naturally journalism was what I was looking for.

I was 15 when I participated in some kind of career testing, where they ask a series of questions and they choose my best career path based on my responses.

I was told journalism would suit me, I enjoy meeting new people, I like to travel, I like to read and write.

I then realised it was my dream to become a journalist.

It was only in my senior year that I realised I should stop being lazy and be a bit more proactive in my pursuit to journalism.

I would tell my parents, oh yeahhhh I wanna be a journalist, it is perfect for me dah dahhh day dahhh etc.

But they would always point out that I have never demonstrated any interest into the field, all I had really done was continue reading and writing the same way I always had.

I had this misplaced sense that university guarantees you a job, it opens all the doors and gives you all the tools to pursue a career in whatever your specialised field is.

Only when I start speaking with people who have gone through uni did I realise this is not the case, in fact I know people who never had to show their employers their degrees.

My cousin is a reporter for CNN in the United States, and she told me that anyone who is going to hire who in the world of journalism “do not give a shit about your uni grades”.

Soon after my graduation, I found Jschool.

This is definitely the place for me, and it is definitely the place that will give me the know how to be a legitimate journalist that someone would actually want to hire.

“The essence of an independent mind lies not in what it thinks, but in how it thinks.” – Christopher Hitchens, Letters to a Young Contrarian.

I thought it apt to begin my blog with a quote from Hitchens, a journalist and author who has influenced me greatly. Reading the works of Hitchens, Marie Colvin, Robert Fisk to name but a few are just some of the reasons I am currently studying journalism at Jschool.

I thought I would begin by sharing my impressions of a journalism “masterclass” I attended, along with my fellow students, at the Brisbane Convention Centre last Monday. The event was organised by the Commonwealth Broadcasting Association and featured talks from Nigel Brennan, the Australian photojournalist who was kidnapped in Somalia in 2008 and held hostage for over a year, and by ABC foreign correspondent Sally Sara who has reported from many countries around the world including most recently Afghanistan.

Nigel Brennan’s talk naturally focused on his arduous experience in captivity. He talked openly about being held in solitary confinement and the psychological impact of not knowing when or if the cold hand of death was just around the corner. He spoke of how his “belief in humanity was sorely tested” as he watched his colleague and friend Amanda Lindhout being tortured.

Brennan has struggled to come to terms with how humans are capable of inflicting such unspeakable horrors on another member of their species. And who can blame him. He spoke of an occasion where in desperate need for human interaction he laughed at the attempts of his captors to practise yoga alongside him. Afterwards he was ashamed or as he not so delicately put it “felt like a cheap prostitute.” at longing for the basic human wish to connect.

The most chilling moment of the entire afternoon came when Brennan played back an audio recording of a phone call between Lindhout and her mother. Lindhout had spent the past three days being tortured and this was quite evident as the woman on the phone was clearly a broken woman. She was barely coherent and I instantly imagined a child crying out to her mother. The mother on the other end of the line was clear and concise and had obviously being trained in how to handle this conversation but how on earth she didn’t break down herself, I’ll never know.

I found Brennan’s speech had more to do with the psychological implications of being held hostage rather than journalism. As compelling as it was he only began to touch on journalistic aspects when he questioned what journalists ethical responsibilities were in a hostile environment. A noble question which I’ll come back to later.

The second speaker Sally Sara’s speech may have lacked the dramatic impetus of her predecessor but I still found her talk utterly fascinating. She was initially knocked back an astonishing 22 times before given her first opportunity. She advised the audience of aspiring journalists to apply for positions in rural areas as it was here they would hone their skills learning to be self reliant and find good stories.

She spoke of the day to day practicalities of being a foreign correspondent. The isolation, the adrenalin of being in a foreign if not hostile environment, the freedom to chase whatever story she felt needed to be told, the importance of being familiar with your equipment, all of this was paramount as there was nobody else there to assist you.

As a female journalist she was given access to stories her male counterparts were not so her sex became an advantage rather than a disadvantage, as many may have assumed would be the case in a patriarchal society such as those found in Afghanistan.

Reporting in hostile environments meant the likelihood of covering some unsettling stories and Sara hinted at the possibility of becoming desensitised to the violence. She recommended that any journalist experiencing a traumatic event should talk to someone immediately.

“I wouldn’t go out with a broken camera – don’t go out as a broken journo.” Sara said. Wise words indeed.

Both journalists reiterated the ethical challenges journalists face in these hostile environments. An example given of this was the Pulitzer award winning photograph by Massoud Hossani which shows a young Afghan girl screaming in the aftermath of a suicide bomb explosion. Sara said people around Hossani at the time were urging him to take the photograph as evidence for what had just occurred.

The question being are journalists praying on the misery of others or are they there to record this moment in history accurately? How far would you go to get a story? Would you risk your life? These are not easy questions to answer and anybody who says otherwise is deluding themselves. They are important questions and should be considered carefully before embarking on this career path.

As a person interested in foreign correspondence it was great to hear from two journalists who have been in the field. They were insightful and offered sage advice. There is a lot of romanticism associated with being a foreign correspondent and both speakers dissuaded this particular notion very quickly. If it is fame and glory you seek there are much easier ways to obtain them.

News story:   Tag line for news story or news angle

Deadline (to receive answer):   Date and time

Publication:  newsbytes.com.au

Journalist:  my name and contact details.

Brief statement re news story, in particular my news angle (as it pertains to the questions I need to ask of my source).

Numbered questions.

Thank you for your assistance,

(signature).

I would have thought starting three weeks late in a course would have been a disadvantage, a week later I’m working as if I hadn’t missed a beat. It’s a testament to the people at the head of Jschool.

Straight to the point

We haven’t wasted any time in jumping straight in the deep end this term as we got to work hastily assembling our first stories, and along the way we learnt about the unforgivingness of deadlines. It’s good we’re learning the hard lessons of journalism early, at the same time as we’re being taught how to overcome them.

The never ending story hunt

One thing which has caught me off guard is the pressure of finding newsworthy stories, it’s infinitely harder than I thought. My ideas of ‘newsworthiness’ have been broken down and rebuilt, but I’m still a novice to the news world.

What still has me bothered is that I know there are a million different stories out there, a lot probably pass me by every day while I’m traveling, but I can’t seem to notice them or find them, even when it feels like I’m looking in the right places. I feel as if there is a method unknown to me for finding the stories hiding in plain sight.

In another’s shoes

I remember watching movies and seeing the reporter character run around touting the importance of the ‘scoop’ or story that they will get from being involved with the events happening in the film. I always saw that character as someone out of touch, or with warped priorities under the frequently extraordinary circumstances they are put in throughout the film.

This is probably an apt observation, but nonetheless I understand now what drove those characters – the prospect of a story they will give anything to write – It’s a feeling I can relate to now that story hunting is a priority of my own. It is fascinating how a small change in your thinking can alter your perceptions of the world.

I know all I have done is a few things….starting off with looking at my very first piece of news story….so happy….thank you John, pomise more stories will come your way……and basically watching tv shows, going to the gym and basically hanging out with the family.

I should have done more work….so lazy….but parctice makes perfect….so all of my first term practice stories will be heading to john soon…before term two begins…..hopefully!

Shorthand…..what can I say….it is like learning a new language…..I should have learned how to write in my families language….sometimes it looks so similar….but not perfect yet at shorthand….but practice makes perfect!

So looking back at term one, what can I can say, I really enjoyed it, I might not be exactly that good as of yet, with my introductions (they are not as punchy as I would like them to be) with the sentence structure (i make a lot of grammar mistakes) with the flow of the story (sometimes I just go blank) but I will get there.

Working on all those practice stories with Desley (hope she is having fun with her retirement) is pretty fun, I cannot wait until we head to the courts and start writing stories from there. The best thing was practicing with those stories, working out which bits were relevant and which bits were relevant to the particular angle we were writing for.

But the one thing I am certainly learning is that a story is almost every where we look, to what movies we watch to festival that are happening around brisbane, like this weekend is the Supanova Pop Culture at Gold Coast, I would have gone but Allison Mack  (Chloe Sullivan from Smallville) didn’t show up, which is sad as my mum really liked the actress, so now I will wait for the Brisbane one in November where James Marsters (Spike from Buffy) will show up along with many others (who are not confirmed as of yet).

(I met Cassidy Freeman aka Tess Mercer from Smallville at Supanova at the Brisbane RNA showgrounds, very exciting moment)

SO like I am saying…..stories are all around us….just look at these two weeks we have been on a break…what has happened?  We see Coles Supermarket recalls Heritage easter eggs…………..that car chase with the BMW’s at Mt Ommeney where the police didn’t use their helicopter and used the news channels helicopters……..the earthquake in in the Indian Ocean (again) on the 11th April…..and then the announcement of Bob Brown (the ex-leader of the greens party) resigning……..then the hostage situation Crestmead…….and the sacking of former Minister of Police and Safety David Gibson……….. 

Stories happen all over……history is being made…….we just need to start opening our eyes to what is out there……next stop…..the mummy’s at the south bank museum (if I get the chance).

These are my thoughts and reflections for this week…..bring on TERM TWO!

My wonderful partner Leon had a 5-day break from working in the mines in WA and treated us to a beautiful resort in Noosa, talk about spoilt! Although QLD I have to ask-where is all the sunshine?

Another pressing matter we discovered as two Victorians was the lack of excitement about the AFL in Queensland. We trekked to 3 “sports bars” Sunday night to watch the footy before finally discovering one in the CBD, which not only had BOTH matches on live but also the F1, yes! Needless to say it was full up with fellow Melbournians!

We had an amazing time last week although it went much too fast.  This week has been my first since moving from Melbourne where I have really felt the pinch of being homesick. Leon is back in WA, my housemates are at work and there is no J School to keep me occupied.

I have kept myself busy though with lots of shorthand, lots of reading and lots of news consuming. Can’t wait to get into next term!

In early Greece, votes were cast by pebble – black or white.

In later years, the name of a politically dangerous person was written on a shard of pottery (‘ostracy’). The person with the most votes was evicted from Athens.

Julius Caesar made a name for himself in foreign policy in his bid to rule the Empire.

Julius Caesar did not survive.  Neither did Kevin Rudd.

News writing 101: “The past, the future and the present walked into a bar. It was tense.”

Quam ut scriptor novus.