The Lost Journalist
A week before Ball State was out for the holidays, my spring semester plans did a couple back-flips and a 180. I had all my classes in check and an internship was pretty much ready to go; I was set.
Then, the opportunity of a lifetime slammed me in the face. I might get to go to Russia and report on the Olympics and the events surrounding it. Most of all, I could go to freaking Russia. After some help from a friend and a very impromptu interview, I was in. I’m going to Russia. Hell freaking yes.
Shortly after the interview and calling my parents and friends, reality hit me like a brisk wind on a cold winter’s day. I have a lot of work to do. I have to redo my schedule, say goodbye to the internship and prepare to say I’m now graduating in the summer and am going to be a super-plus senior and not a super senior anymore.
On top of that, I’m five months behind on planning. The rest of the class generally has an idea of what’s going on, considering they’ve been a part of the process since the beginning of fall semester. As for me, I’m soaking in as much information as possible and giving Tim Allen a run for his money on the dumbfounded “HUH?” sound he made on the intro of Home Improvement every time I don’t have a clue what’s going. Which is all the time. Especially since I have a class that conflicts with the Russia class so I can’t attend the one class I need the most. It’s great, too, since I only needed yet another reason to fall behind.
I’m just a man who can’t get no mercy.
During our weekly writer’s meetings, all the writers seem to have contacts and general plans of action when they get to Sochi, and I feel like my plan will be as successful as a blind idiotic dog being told to navigate the world’s largest obstacle course.
That kind of plan just gives me an aneurism.
Along with feeling like I have to try the impossible task of blowing out a grease fire to get up to speed, I have so much more to prepare for. I have to get loans, shots and have paperwork to complete and recomplete. It never ends. Ever since I agreed to this gig, my life has been in a state of vertigo, and I know it won’t end until my feet hit Russian soil.
To sum up, I’m apparently going to Russia as one of the most underprepared and ill knowledged journalists this world has ever seen.
Welcome to my life.
BSU at the Games is a freelance news agency operated by 22 student journalists reporting from the Sochi 2014 Winter Olympic Games through an immersive-learning program at Ball State University.