Failing Twice

Well, in case you haven't noticed, I failed my mission to write in my blog every month. However, I mostly forgive myself for this because I wrote for a blog on which people actually comment in March. If you haven't already checked it out: http://tv.gawker.com/5501195/the-teen-cable-shows-youre-pretending-not-to-watch. I guess I still failed, but whatever.

My greater failure, however, which I realized today, is my failure as a journalism major. I say this not because I didn't go into journalism--my major certainly contributed to my having gotten my last two jobs and I have no regrets about my selection--but because today I realized just how pathetic it is that I not only have no favorite columnist but I can't even match writers to their pieces. These details--details which are paramount to a journalism major--evade me in the same way the details I learned in my classes on Roman and Byzantine history escape me. I cannot remember the name of the guy who wrote the fabulous profile on Roger Ebert for Esquire. I cannot remember the name of the woman who wrote an excellent piece on the sale of Tibetan prepubescent girls into slavery for Marie Claire. At best, I can tell you that Michael Azzerad wrote my favorite NYT article and that Laurie Sandell has written a host of the cover features for Glamour, but I know this because Michael Azerrad also wrote the Nirvana biography Come As You Are and Laurie Sandell spoke to one of my journalism classes at NYU.

I can tell you that I enjoy Chuck Klosterman's articles in Esquire, but in truth, not one stands out. I know that I like Chuck Klosterman because I know that I liked Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs. I know that I like Tom Chiarella's articles in Esquire, but again, I cannot name one. (Noticing a pattern, by the way? Esquire is so above and beyond my favorite magazine at this point that it almost makes me sad to be a woman.)

What's making me think of this today of all days? Gene Weingarten, that's what. Everyone's thrilled that he won a Pulitzer. And you know what? They probably should be. He's probably great. I read the article that won the prize, and it's excellent. (I actually hated the first couple of paragraphs, but then proceeded to breeze--and cry--through the next five pages.) I, of course, had never heard of him until today, despite the fact that I basically spent four years learning how to be someone like Gene Weingarten. What is wrong with me?

To be fair, I no longer want to be a journalist, and am quite set on my goals of being an editor and a young adult fiction writer, and I'm considerably more well-versed in the areas of books in general and young adult lit, specifically, but still. FOUR YEARS!

Today, I am a failure.

Twice.