|Vivi:||but why not love naruto|
|flark:||because it's garbage|
|Vivi:||but I am also garbage so it fits|
|flark:||ahahahah. That makes me feel bad|
|Vivi:||clearly you are also not garbage which is just fine|
|Vivi:||because this trash can only has room for one.|
I really hope all this news doesn’t inspire anyone to become a journalist. There are still no jobs, do you understand that kids?— Stuart A. Thompson (@stuartathompson)May 1, 2014
In my @RyersonJourn class, half the kids didn’t want to go into journalism. So the message might be getting across.— Stuart A. Thompson (@stuartathompson)May 1, 2014
By taking journalism at Ryerson University, I am fairly lucky to have classes taught by either current or past employees of major Canadian newspapers, including the Globe and Mail. Stuart Thompson is one of the best data journalists in Canada, and it was an absolute privilege to be in that class.
I was also in the room when maybe a third of my classmates raised their hands and said they wanted to be in journalism. A friend of mine suggested that the issue was a lack of passion. Apologies to this fellow, but that really got on my nerves. It is not a lack of passion that pushes people out of journalism. It’s a lack of jobs.
I honestly think anyone given enough time and dedication will get a job in journalism. Small newspapers are slowly expanding. Places like the Huffington Post and Canada.com are becoming more relevant. And there’s enough turnover in broadcasting that someone will give you a shot. It’ll always be difficult to get a job at the big newspapers, and to some extent it always has been. But for any of these positions, here’s what you’re really fighting: time.
I have a set goal for myself. I want to work for a news magazine or at a public broadcasting radio station. These jobs require a few years of working freelance, perhaps longer doing short term low-pay part-time contracts. It also means unpaid internships. Not many people can afford to spend so much time essentially unemployed. Contracts are unreliable, and they make employees replaceable at moment’s notice. Even in the best circumstance, when you do get a job, there’s a lot of instability in the field right now. Every major publication is cutting, and the people they cut most likely don’t require a huge severance pay.
It’s easy to imagine someone who can’t afford to live like that. Someone who has their family out of the province and has to pay the absurd Toronto rent, while doing part time work. Someone who comes from a lower income family has to help out at home. Or imagine someone older, who has kids and wants to get into this field. These people have responsibilities and ties that make it difficult to stay committed to journalism, and I don’t think they’re hypotheticals either.
Unpaid positions privilege the rich and middle class. Temporary ones privilege the young and those able to drop everything and change their lives for a new job. Actual full time positions require at least five years of experience in a newsroom, which you probably won’t get until around 7-9 years after your degree.
Most students don’t take advantage of the school’s newspapers, that’s for sure. I know I didn’t. I have maybe one article in the Ryersonian, and one article in the Eyeopener. Instead I took advantage of the school’s radio station and I’ve been producing segments for more than a year now. I’ve also been writing feature articles freelance. I plan to go abroad later this year to report on business. I will get a job.
I have the luxury of time, however. My parents are going to let me live at home, and they’re helping me pay off my student debt. I’m not going to have to buy food every week. I also have savings and a scholarship to keep me afloat.
A lot of talented people, or would-be talented people, don’t have access to that. They can’t spend the hours needed to make the right contacts, go to events and take unpaid or unstable positions. We face a bias in this industry that if you got a job it’s because you deserved it more than someone else, as opposed to just being in the right place at the right time. It’s not passion that makes you stay in journalism. It’s whether you can risk a bet on a future with no guarantee.
Oh no I’ve been here so long my leg fell asleep. But if I move I lose the WiFi. Oh well. DIE LEG DIE."
Even now, I remember the sensation of lying on hard plastic bus station seats in Quebec City. I was supposed to be a 100km away, in another province, getting ready to report on the Ryerson University men’s soccer team at the Canada’s national CIS tournament. Instead, at 2 a.m., I settled into a Quebec City bus terminal for six hours. These seats were curved to a point, ground to a fine edge, and smelled of a finely tuned mixture of mud and sweat. As much as my reporting partner and I pretended, no one was going to sleep that night.
We had six hours of unwanted wakefulness, then six hours in a bus, then six hours in another bus, and then an awards gala, and then an article to write. It was a trip that we had planned to take in half a day that instead took two, and all because of one late bus.
I am the features editor at the Ryersonian student newspaper, where I work with Victor Ferreira, a news and sports editor. He’s also a pal of mine. Two weeks ago, he asked me if I was interested in going with him to Fredericton, NB to help cover the men’s soccer team. I don’t have much experience covering sports, and I only watch soccer during the World Cup. But it was a chance to visit the Maritimes. I’ve never made it east of Quebec City, so I was enticed.
Once we had confirmation that the Ryerson Rams soccer team was going to the nationals, we packed our suitcases, arranged a series of busses, and picked a hotel. Given our other responsibilities as editors, we did it in a rush so we could finish our jobs at the newspaper and left the province Tuesday afternoon. We were going to make it to Fredericton Wednesday morning, and then attend the CIS men’s soccer awards gala at 6 p.m. that evening.
Ryerson’s soccer team is notoriously under-covered and uncelebrated, despite being one of the best sports teams in the school’s history. This team never lost a game in their regular season, however, fans rarely came to see them play. Their audience was comprised of coach and family. The Ryerson Student Union attempted to attract players to the Rams’ field all the way in Scarborough with a free bus ride. Only one student went.
I had this in mind on the first leg of our trip from Toronto to Montreal because it looked like we might not even attend their first CIS tournament game. We had traffic all the way down the 401. Looking out the window was like staring out into a sea of unmoving metallic fish, all bobbing a little further into the current as the way cleared.
The other issue was that we had run out the door so quickly that we had forgotten to check our equipment. We didn’t have the right cable to connect our microphone to our camera. We had forgotten to pick up a data-enabled iPhone. All we had was a microphone, a camera, and a tablet with no access to the internet, and no way to connect them. Yet, a day from now, we were supposed to be reporting on the game.
We missed our bus in Montreal. As we scrambled for a solution, a bus driver offered to give us a lift to Quebec City where another bus would take us to Riviere-du-Loup in the morning. We said sure, not realizing that meant a six hour wait in the bus terminal.
I’ve never felt more foolish than when I looked through my suitcase at 4a.m., unable to sleep or relax and praying that I had the equipment somewhere. My hand was hovering over an email to our professor, Gavin Adamson, describing the sheer absurd stupidity of our situation. I couldn’t send it until the morning. For a couple hours, Victor and I just sat there. Occasionally we lay on our sides, once I lay on the floor, but never caught more than a moment’s rest.
When the bus finally came, only Victor slept. I called up the newsroom, told everyone our location and started looking for solutions. The Ryersonian wanted an update while we were still on the road, and we had to file it before the Orléans Express arrived in Riviere-du-Loup, since it had wifi. As our next connection, the Maritime Bus, pulled out of the station and away from the Quebec village, I hit send on our short script. The last thing we saw before the internet cut out was a brief email saying, “Thanks so much!”
On our way to Fredericton, I caught some of that New Brunswick beauty. Trees covered the hillside and, even though all their leaves had fallen, their branches emanated with a red glow through the lush evergreens. I loved seeing towns built on the hills. The highest building was often a stone church with a tall steeple, as if it was trying to climb higher than the landscape allowed. The smallness of the towns amused me. When we passed by them, I could see all they had to offer on a single road. These villages had never grown beyond a few thousand people, and the only thing that kept them alive was the stubbornness of its inhabitants to move elsewhere.
It helped that we met Ken Parker, our unofficial tour guide. If there is a dictionary definition of a Canadian, underneath it is a picture of Ken Parker. On his mother’s side he’s Acadian and his father’s ancestors were some of the first English settlers in New Brunswick. He’s lived in Manitoba, Alberta, the Maritimes and Ontario, and told stories with the excitement of a child, though his grey hair and bursting paunch gave away his age.
Moose are smaller in New Brunswick, according to Ken, but the deer are much bigger. The roads are ancient in New Brunswick. Old highways lead into dead ends or massive potholes. He explained that New Brunswick is slower than other provinces. The people who live here have always lived here and they work on their own time. He told the story of the time his grandmother’s car was stolen because she left the keys in the ignition.
"You know the police never found it. My grandmother did," he said. "She found it in the same spot two days later!"
Ken pointed out the original McCains’ factory, and the rotting Irving gas station whose number, like the Irving family’s fortune, seems to dwindle as years pass. He claimed to have grown up alongside the McCains children and laughed when he recalled their youngest daughter flying to Toronto for a haircut. Children don’t stay long in New Brunswick, Ken said. When he was in Alberta he found a town of just ex-maritimers, who had left their homes in search of work. Occasionally having a job is more important than history.
Ken left in Woodstock, which is close to his hometown of only a couple hundred people. He met up with his mother and we travelled on to Fredericton.
Victor and I arrived in our hotel at 6p.m. with the awards gala already underway. We had been debating whether we should even attend, but once we entered, Victor jumped in the shower and I called Maureen Sparks, the woman who organized the CIS soccer tournament in the University of New Brunswick. No one minded if we were a half-hour late. So I had my shower, we both wrapped ourselves in makeshift suits, and then ran off to the Fredericton Inn Convention Centre.
Alex Braletic, our star striker, won athlete of the year, and suddenly we were filled with smiles and excited. The team, however, felt slighted. Braletic was the only athlete to win a prize at the gala, though the team is ranked second in the nation. After the ceremony we ran back to our hotel and Victor started writing on the article, while I started editing our video and audio.
We passed out soon after. To our surprise, everything worked out before the Rams’ first game. We bought the missing connector for the microphone to our camera for less than $10, plus there was fast wifi at the stadium.
And then we lost 3-2 against the Laval Rouge et Or. Braletic pulled in an amazing goal in the second half. Victor and I were practically bursting out of our seats, but it wasn’t enough.
It feels strange having travelled across the country for our men’s soccer team only to have them lose in the quarter-finals. I’m still thinking about that. I thought Victor and I had lost our way back in Quebec City, when the lights turned off and we were left alone with our laptops and a security guard. But we managed to pull through. I find it hard to believe that we did, but it’s true.
I’m not disappointed. With all that Ryerson has won this year, second place at the Ontario University Athletics, and two prizes at the awards gala, just getting this far might be a victory in itself.
Or maybe I just need to catch up on the 27 hours of sleep I missed.
Phew! Now that I got that rant out of the way, here’s where I talk about what I did there. I went to six panels, although only five of them technically existed.
Have I mentioned how much I dislike Fan Expo? If you had the misfortune of being in a 2km radius of me in the last week, you probably found that out. Fan Expo has all the chaos, gridlock and stress as a small Comic Con, with none of the reward.
I can already envision the legions of people who disagree with me. Hold on guys. I have a few very specific prerequisites for an enjoyable convention experience.
For the last three years I’ve gone to Fan Expo as a reporter, but there is simply no news at Fan Expo. Sure there’s gimmicky, Canada-specific news. Justice League Canada will be happening next year. Thanks DC Comics. I’ll get to that once I’m done absorbing the cultural nuance of Wipeout Canada and the Bachelor Canada. Marvel Comics and DC Comics didn’t even have a booth this year. They brought two of their writers and a ton of public relations specialists and then ran as fast as they could towards the border. CSIS, our equivalent to the CIA, had a bigger booth than Image Comics, the third largest comics publisher in North America.
So that thing on Wednesday didn’t happen, mostly because of Fan Expo! Instead we received great comments from the likes of Stuart & Kathryn Immonen, Becky Cloonan, and Ryan Stegman. (You guys are amazing. We hail you.)
As always, remember to reblog and tag! It helps newer and taller people find the comic, and most importantly shows us that you’re reading. Due to a gypsy curse and an internet addiction, we read all tags! And like the best stewards, we have favourites.
This is probably my favourite page I have seen Viv produce in a long time. This page holds to my script fairly strictly, and it’s great to see it all laid out like this with her art. I have nothing but pride for her work.
Jesus our website is garbage though. That’s my project for the next few weeks….
One page in three weeks! We’ve been busy with honest to god jobs the last few weeks, Vivi especially so forgive us for not following the rules here. We’ll be breaking them again this coming Wednesday with a special update!
As always, remember to reblog and tag! It helps other people find the comic and shows us that you’re reading. We read them all, I promise. We also have favourites, because you guys can be pretty awesome when you join in. And remember, for the rest of Chapter 2 and Chapter 1, check out Pigment City.
Our favourite tag from last post: ahh :0
ONLY FOUR DAYS TILL FAN EXPO.
(Source: , via swegener)
We’re back after a long delay with our MolyJam special! We documented the progress of two teams of game designers at the Toronto Molyjam. Plus we have comments from Chris Remo of Idle Thumbs and Anna Kipnis from Double Fine. As for the news, we recap Super Smash Bros at the EVO video game tournament, what we’d like to see in Kingdom Hearts 3, and the future of consoles in a more open China.
Wow this took so long to make and put together. This is my second attempt at doing a This American Life/Radiolab style segment on this show. It’s a little more successful than my first attempt, which was a pseudo-noir retelling of Comics vs Games, but it’s still not as good as I’d like to be. In the future, I should probably do things like Third Drafts. (or sometimes just a second one).
If anything, I think I’ve learned a valuable lesson on how long it takes to create 30 minutes worth of content. In the short bursts (and sleepless nights) I put this together I didn’t give myself much time to think about revisions, so I’ll have to do that now. Thanks so much to everyone who helped - namely Anna Kipnis, Chris Remo, Peter Neill, Andy Ung, Michael Lin, Macy Kuang, Jeff Alynack, Ralph Uy, and Macy Kuang.
Please don’t laugh at the audio quality. I’m too busy crying about it.