After slightly less than a year, I decided to leave The Huffington Post. In part, this was because I wanted to promote the documentary and write a book about online culture — or so I told my friends. But the real reason was, after so many years of trying to be a part of the system, of focusing all my energy on my professional life, I learned that no amount of professional success would solve my problem or ease the sense of loss and displacement I felt. I lied to a friend about why I couldn’t take a weekend trip to . Another time I concocted an excuse for why I couldn’t go on an all-expenses-paid trip to . I have been unwilling, for years, to be in a long-term relationship because I never wanted anyone to get too close and ask too many questions. All the while, Lola’s question was stuck in my head: What will happen if people find out?
Yes, I know: this is not a new story. We have known it since the iPhone was introduced, in 2007. Yet teen-age time on screens, as Turkle has documented, has recently increased to the point where it takes over many young lives altogether. Digital culture has enveloped us more quickly and more thoroughly than most of us had imagined. But what can be done about it? Many adults, overwhelmed by a changed reality, shrug off the problem. You don’t want to become a crank. After all, reading technologies have changed in the past; television altered consciousness and social patterns sixty years ago, and kids survived and became adults. Literature will survive, too, somehow. Or so we would like to think. (I’m not so sure: the personal gratification provided by constant feedback doesn’t wither as one gets older.) Some of this indifference may be caused by rueful self-acknowledgment on the part of adults. Many of us are looking at screens all the time, too. Even the book lovers, carrying some tome on an airplane, or listening to an audiobook in the car, turn on their phones as soon as they can.
While I worked at The Huffington Post, other opportunities emerged. My H.I.V./AIDS series became a documentary film called “The Other City,” which opened at the last year and was broadcast on Showtime. I began writing for magazines and landed a dream assignment: profiling ’s for .
Why? Well, imagine I asked you to bake a casserole for a potluck. But you’re not sure you can actually do that, and so you spend days procrastinating and fretting and flipping through recipe magazines. And then on the day of the potluck, you show up with a pan that contains a ripped-out magazine page with a photograph of a beautiful casserole. Same thing, right? Nope.
Jan 12, 2012 · Why do you want to be a journalist
If for some reason the specific words in the definition were just so significant you have to quote them, then you would certainly discuss what’s so amazing about this source’s word choice and why you’re giving them such special treatment. But no, you just quoted the definition and then moved on to another sentence that has nothing to do with it. I see what you did there.
Why I Want to Be a Journalist - The Muslim Observer
To state the obvious, a work uniform is not an original idea. There's a group of people that have embraced this way of dressing for years—they call it a suit. For men, it's a very common approach, even mandatory in most professions. Nevertheless, I received a lot of mixed reactions for usurping this idea for myself. Immediately, people started asking for a motive behind my new look: "Why do you do this? Is it a bet?" When I get those questions I can't help but retort, "Have you ever set up a bill for online auto-pay? Did it feel good to have one less thing to deal with every month?"
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Other than the burning, "why?" the most common question I get is whether or not it gets boring in the long run. It's a reasonable question that probably has a lot to do with the fact that office style is commonly informal in my industry. We have been given the opportunity to reflect our true personalities in everything we wear, every day—to extol our "creative spirits" in everything we do.