Whether it’s Rick Sanchez of CNN for all those aspiring news anchors, or Balto--if you’re a dog that has human intelligence--everyone has an idol. Subconsciously or not, we all look up to someone throughout our lives. Sure, they may change every so often, but it’s impossible as logical human beings to not look up to someone.
At 4, I wanted to be this kid named John in my preschool class. That kid had like three fucking girlfriends; he was set for life at the age of 4 (unless, of course, he contracted cooties). I guess I still aspire to be him? Then at 7, I was transfixed on being Stone Cold Steve Austin. Nothing would have made me happier than if I could Stone Could Stun my second grade teacher for giving us homework. At 12, I wanted to be a lawyer, and my idol at the time was Johnny Cochran—this was because I was so amazed that someone could get away with murder with the help cheesy, childish examples used by his defense. At 14, after reading a book on Margaret Meade, I briefly wanted to be an Anthropologist; however, that’s just dumb unless I actually WANTED to be a community college professor.
After a couple of years of having no idol, I was told to read an excerpt of Sex, Drugs, And Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto, by oft-wacky journalist, Chuck Klosterman. The first chapter of that book, This Is Emo, is probably the truest/funniest thing I have ever read. Concerning “fake love”, it details how the media and entertainment world has impacted our view of love; This Is Emo is an in-depth analysis as to just how much our ability to love is influenced by movies, songs, books, etc. Soon, Chuck Klosterman became my idol (most likely to his dismay, because I feel like every aspiring writer between the ages of 17-25 who considers his or herself a part of the counter culture wants to be him—then again, that sounds like one, big fucking over-exaggeration).
I then read the book Killing Yourself To Live, again by Chuck Klosterman, and I was sold: I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to write, I wanted to experience human progression and regression. And hell, even though it'd have little to do with my career planning, I'd too--like Chuck--want to write for ESPN’s Page 2 on a monthly basis, JUST BECAUSE I FUCKING CAN. Needless to say, Chuck Klosterman has helped me find, what I hope is, my calling.
Klosterman is a rare breed of journalists, in the sense that he his kind of famous and successful. I just turned 20 last month, and as if that isn’t scary enough, I now have to start spearheading my future. As a sophomore majoring in journalism, my expectations in life are fairly simple. I know the journalism field isn’t necessarily an affluent one, however, I simply enjoy writing for the sake of the art. If I can at least put some goddamn cereal and skim milk on the table, I’ll be content with life. If that doesn’t work out, well, I guess I’ll just use my fallback: community college professor.
At 4, I wanted to be this kid named John in my preschool class. That kid had like three fucking girlfriends; he was set for life at the age of 4 (unless, of course, he contracted cooties). I guess I still aspire to be him? Then at 7, I was transfixed on being Stone Cold Steve Austin. Nothing would have made me happier than if I could Stone Could Stun my second grade teacher for giving us homework. At 12, I wanted to be a lawyer, and my idol at the time was Johnny Cochran—this was because I was so amazed that someone could get away with murder with the help cheesy, childish examples used by his defense. At 14, after reading a book on Margaret Meade, I briefly wanted to be an Anthropologist; however, that’s just dumb unless I actually WANTED to be a community college professor.
After a couple of years of having no idol, I was told to read an excerpt of Sex, Drugs, And Cocoa Puffs: A Low Culture Manifesto, by oft-wacky journalist, Chuck Klosterman. The first chapter of that book, This Is Emo, is probably the truest/funniest thing I have ever read. Concerning “fake love”, it details how the media and entertainment world has impacted our view of love; This Is Emo is an in-depth analysis as to just how much our ability to love is influenced by movies, songs, books, etc. Soon, Chuck Klosterman became my idol (most likely to his dismay, because I feel like every aspiring writer between the ages of 17-25 who considers his or herself a part of the counter culture wants to be him—then again, that sounds like one, big fucking over-exaggeration).
I then read the book Killing Yourself To Live, again by Chuck Klosterman, and I was sold: I wanted to be a journalist. I wanted to write, I wanted to experience human progression and regression. And hell, even though it'd have little to do with my career planning, I'd too--like Chuck--want to write for ESPN’s Page 2 on a monthly basis, JUST BECAUSE I FUCKING CAN. Needless to say, Chuck Klosterman has helped me find, what I hope is, my calling.
Klosterman is a rare breed of journalists, in the sense that he his kind of famous and successful. I just turned 20 last month, and as if that isn’t scary enough, I now have to start spearheading my future. As a sophomore majoring in journalism, my expectations in life are fairly simple. I know the journalism field isn’t necessarily an affluent one, however, I simply enjoy writing for the sake of the art. If I can at least put some goddamn cereal and skim milk on the table, I’ll be content with life. If that doesn’t work out, well, I guess I’ll just use my fallback: community college professor.
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