Why I did better in university than college

When I switched into the joint program for journalism at University of Toronto, I was heart-broken to discover that I’d have to spend three semesters in college.

I’m not even too sure why to be honest.

I guess I felt like it was a downgrade. Maybe a lot of people go from university to college, but that was never in my plans. My parents were so proud of me for making it into one of Canada’s most high-ranked and elite universities, would they look down on me for being in college? Would my degree equate to less because some of my time in post-secondary was acquired in a college?

And, why am I still paying university tuition if I’m doing college-level courses?

The first day I got to college, I was so unimpressed my eyebrows couldn’t sink any lower into the middle of my face if I had been photoshopped. The campus was a bit smaller than my high school. It was a huge square with a small outdoor space in the middle and monotonous paint colours that made me nauseous after a while.

But the teachers were surprisingly lively.

In our first semester, we learned news reporting, copy-editing, page design, and imaging. The classes were so unlike anything I’d ever taken in university. We learned so much about the theory of journalism, the elements of journalism and transnational issues in university that I thought it would take me getting into the workforce to do things like this.

Our assignments came quickly and piled up even faster and challenged my peers and I in a way we hadn’t been challenged before. We had class discussions just as we had in university, but we did work. A lot of work.

After receiving high 70s and high 80s in university on essays and written assignments and 90s for my participation, I expected to be even better in college. After all, college is so much easier than university isn’t it?

The truth is, it’s not.

It might even be more difficult. For journalism anyway, and a lot of other courses that require serious hands-on training.

The thing is, university is all about theory. We sit in lectures for an hour or two and listen (perhaps) to the history of our field. We learn about the famous people who paved the way for the men and women hoping to make it, and we write essays, reflections, midterms and exams.

But in college, we write. We learn. We read. We talk to each other. We debate. We discuss. We engage. We indulge in news every single day. We write draft after draft and it still isn’t good enough. Our teachers are hard on us. They cover our paper in red pen and tell us we should know how to spell these words by now, commas don’t go there, and didn’t your copy-editor teach you this already?

I did better in university than I did in college because I was pushed in college, whereas whatever I handed in was "good enough" in university, and "good enough" gets you good grades.

A lot of people take the easy way out because it’s, well, easy. But there is nothing to be gained from easy. If it doesn't challenge you, it doesn't change you. You don’t make it to the highest level in a video game by selecting the easiest level each time you play. You don’t improve at a sport by ensuring your opponents are less qualified than you. And you don’t make it anywhere, and I mean anywhere, by refusing to challenge yourself when necessary and even when not.

Sometimes we judge books by their covers. Sometimes we think we’re too good or too old to learn some of the simplest lessons that are relayed via Disney movies or Robert Munch books. But sometimes, if we just open our eyes we see the message that we missed the first, second and maybe even third time.

University may have taught me to open my eyes, but it was college that helped me to see.

Jian Ghomeshi: We're not done with you yet

Over the weekend, my friends and I celebrated Halloween together. Before we got to the event, my friend’s boyfriend said to me:

“I’m going to harass you tonight. I hope your boyfriend isn’t coming.”

It was easy for me to laugh this off and pay it no mind. He was probably only joking. I knew my boyfriend was arriving at the party shortly after me, so it wouldn’t be a problem. Besides, he didn’t mean it right?

But what if he did?

And what if my boyfriend didn’t show up?

Why did he think he could harass me only if my boyfriend didn’t show up?

Do I tell my friend he said this?

Will she think I’m doing something to attract him?

If I confront him, will he think I’m being too sensitive?

A bunch of questions arose, but for some reason, I didn’t say anything. Not to him. Not to her. And not to my boyfriend.

If I couldn’t speak out about a small and simple issue like this, imagine how Jian Ghomeshi’s victims feel.

As I continued to read articles regarding the scandal, I couldn’t help but feel like there is a huge dismissal of sexual harassment, large and small scale.

The dictionary defines harassment as “(typically of a woman) in a workplace, or other professional or social situation, involving the making of unwanted sexual advances or obscene remarks.” But frankly, this happens more often than we are even trained to recognize. And as this scandal erupted, I hope people realized how untrained we are to fight these instances and provide support for the victims.

It’s always hard for me to negotiate my feelings when situations like this arise because I never know how to feel. Not as a journalist, not as a minority, and not as a woman.

But when I picked up the Toronto Star on Monday and read an article that embodied everything I had been feeling inside, I knew I wasn’t alone.

Jia Junaid writes in an article called “Coming face to face with my unexpected biases” about how she realized her own biases when the story first broke. The lawyer and human rights activist, despite considering herself a supporter of women’s rights and even a survivor of a violent sexual experience, took Ghomeshi’s side at first.

She really did believe it was a “jilted ex-girlfriend”, and doubted her credibility. As she did when more anonymous women came forward, refusing to attach their name to their claim.

It wasn’t until a lawyer and author, Reva Seth, and an actress, Lucy DeCoutere, came forward, that she started to doubt his innocence.

I too felt this way. I refused to believe a personal role model of mine; someone who's radio show I waited around for, lusting after his interviewing techniques, had been this person described by the women.

But I was able to trace exactly where my lack of belief in the claims came from. Besides the invisible lines tracing back to the construction of our society and all the flaws that shape our views, I was biased because I read his post first. He manipulated me in a much milder way than he had these women, but still, used his personality to put in our minds that he was the victim.

In his post, he begins by mentioning the loss of his father. He describes the grief and difficulty of this time in his life. As if the women, too afraid, embarrassed, and terrified that they have to step forward anonymously aren’t having a difficult time either.

Junaid goes on to talk about how problematic it can be when people, like her and I, are more likely to believe a lawyer and an actress because they have good careers and likely have money, than we are to believe women who cannot attach their names to their experiences with Ghomeshi.

She says, “I was part of the problem.”

I think over the course of the next few months a lot of people will be making this revelation. We will realize that whether we are men, women, teens or elderly, we have, at some point, been part of the problem and the reason more women don’t come forward.

The best thing that has come out of this situation is the discussion that it has started internationally. And this is a conversation that has to continue on, which is why I write this post weeks after the issue arose, and days after the very article that inspired it was published.

Because it’s up to everyone to keep talking about it. To make sure that the victims aren’t just forgotten and done away with like the missing plane or the missing girls.

We forget things at a heartbreakingly fast pace. But the way that these women must remember their experiences on a daily basis is the way we have to remember the reality and severity of the problem.

More importantly though, we cannot be a part of it. And it is a very hard thing to do when our society is structured in a way that makes it so easy to not even see how our behaviors, responses, or feelings about things might be a problem.

But in the same way that after spending so much time in the dark you can train your eyes to see things, let’s start to see the behaviors and the responses and the feelings that are problematic. Let’s talk about them and correct them.

And let’s find our way to the light. 

The 'End' in 'Friend', then the New Beginnings

I used to listen to Good Charlotte all the time in my teens. I wanted to be a rockstar, but listening to them loudly through headphones was as close as I got. One of the most powerful things I took away from my time being an active listener of their music was a line in a song that went like this:

“Best friends can become strangers. But I don’t want that, no not for you, if you just stay with me, we can make it through.”

I find that one lyric echoing in my head a lot lately while parting with many friends and friendships that I thought, at one point or another, would be lasting. Quite frankly, this lyric helped me to arrive at the peace I needed to discover, and showed me that some things just fall apart naturally.

9 times out of 10, it is in our best interest to let nature take her course.

I kind of just brushed off the recent “re-circling” of friends in my life as just another phase. I figured the people that were leaving were on their way somewhere else, and the people who were coming in needed me just as much as I needed them.

But then I thought, where am I going?

The more I thought about the direction I was headed in, the more I could account for the loss of some friends, and the gain of others. I noticed that the surer of myself I became, the less I saw of people who either weren’t sure of themselves, or didn’t want me to be sure of myself. The more career-oriented I became, the less I saw of people who didn’t care to get ahead, and wouldn’t know what to do if they ever got there. The last thing I realized, was that the better of a friend as I began to be, the better, although the fewer, friends I had.

Over time, some of us get to a point of self-actualization. I’m not talking Maslow’s hierarchy here, I’m just talking about being, feeling, like you know what you’re capable of. When you get there, you start doing things that you never did before, because you didn’t know you could do. Maybe you change the way you talk because you realize the impact of your words. Maybe you change the way you think because you realize how much results thoughts can generate. Maybe, quite simply, you love yourself a little more because you realize that you’re worthy of love; especially your own. Whatever changes you make as a result of being more sure of yourself, will illustrate to you, clearer than night and day, who encourages and promotes your growth. 

Conversely, it will make the ones who don’t stick out like a sore thumb.

When I decided to become a journalist, I made both a commitment and a sacrifice. I committed myself to journalism and the act of being a journalist. I committed to writing, my blog, to being an active citizen, to being a recipient and distributor of information to other citizens, and the list just goes on and on and on.

The sacrifice came from all the things, and people, I would lose in that process. I sacrificed the people who maybe wouldn’t have time to talk about the news with me. I sacrificed being friends with people who wouldn’t let me interview them in order to meet a deadline. I sacrificed shallow conversations for deep discussions and debates about what was going on in our world. And I sacrificed all the attitudes, thoughts, and behaviors of both myself and my company that would not actively contribute to me getting to where 

I want, deserve, and intend to be.

Friends will read your blog. They will let you talk their ear off about something they really have no idea about. Friends will come to you for “the inside scoop”. Friends will grab extra copies of the magazine you write for and only read your article. Friends will let you drag them out to networking events to mingle and schmooze with people just so you leave there with a couple contacts, and expect nothing more than a cocktail in return.  

True friends are the ones that would be disappointed if you didn’t make it. Anyone that wouldn’t didn’t care to see you get there in the first place.

The more I realized I had a few friends that were really willing to do all these things, the more willing I was to do things for them. I guess when you’re trying to make it somewhere, anywhere, you always remember those who helped you get to the next landmark. For me, that is any person that read one, just one blog post. It is anyone who sent me a text, a tweet, or an email to say, “Hey kid, you’re doing alright. Keep writing.”

But you also remember those who tried to point you in the other direction.

When people acquire wealth, fame, or success, they get accused of forgetting where they came from, and “changing”. But to people who have not the eyes to see it, growth is always viewed as change, and quite negatively too.

The lyric in the song says “If you just stay with me, we can make it through.”

That means they watch the whole race. In fact, they show up early and run a lap with you, just to get you going. They give you water when you become dehydrated. They come and jog beside you to keep you going. While your soul dwindles and almost dies within you, they say “You can do it”, and bring you back to life.

They don’t just show up at the finish line and expect to be part of your victory. They help you get there.

I look at the people that I have in my life and know why they’re there. I look at the people that aren’t in my life and know why they’re not.

Should we try and save friendships we care about? Yes.

Should we lose ourselves and our focus in the process of doing it? You can if you want to.

Or, you can accept the fact that some people don’t always make it to the finish line with us. Some people choose not to; others, simply, just can’t run the race.

Regardless, you still deserve to see, to touch, and to cross the finish line.

How to be Inspired by Career Envy

Somewhere, I heard that the best role model to have is one that you don’t really fancy.

By fancy, I mean like. If you think about it, it’s quite a strange concept. But if you think about it a bit more, it makes complete sense.

There is this girl that I absolutely despise. For shallow reasons of course; nothing that would make sense if I said them aloud. But lately, I have taken the time to psychoanalyze my dislike for this girl, and I have come to realize a few things.

She’s beautiful. She’s a journalist. She’s got amazing hair. She is ridiculously smart. She’s an amazing writer. She is famous. Essentially, I despise her because she is exactly where I intend to be.

Today, when I stumbled across something that featured her work, I tried to put my jealousy of her own accomplishments to the side, and instead, try and find some inspiration in her work. She was asked to give advice to young women looking to make it into the journalism industry. Her advice was that you have to have passion, amongst a few other things.

As she went through the list, I found myself identifying with a lot of the characteristics she felt were necessary to be a good journalist. It comforted me to know that I had these skills.

I stopped to think about why I had felt so envious of her, especially since I knew it was unjustified. And the more I thought, the more I healed.

I think sometimes when we see people who chase a similar success to us, and are closer to it than we are at any given point, we get frightened and afraid. We feel this relentless sense of competition that doesn’t let up. We either look for reasons to doubt ourselves, or look for ways to belittle the other; both are toxic.

The first thing we need to remember in times like this is that there is always room for the best and the brightest. This means that if you pursue your passion proactively, you will make it. People recognize hard work, but more importantly, people recognize passion.

Besides, passion produces hard work.

The second thing we need to remember is that worrying is silly. To jeopardize our experience of life and of living by worrying about not making it, not doing well enough, or not being good enough, we become those things. We become unable to make it because our actions are the sum of our thoughts. We don’t do well enough because we don’t do anything with conviction. And we become not good enough because we are what we say we are.

The last thing you need to remember is that you will get there. And you’ll get there in your own time. Envying another person’s success is the same as envying an older person because you were born after them; you’re going to grow up too. As she went through the list, she discussed the importance of education in rising to the top. I am in university, in one of the finest journalism programs being taught by the finest journalism experts in Toronto. I will graduate one day too. Don’t measure your success by anyone else’s. Measure it simply by whether you feel you’re doing enough. If you’re always using someone else’s empire as a frame of reference, you have no chance of becoming your own royalty.

I had two choices today. The first was either to continue to dislike her, and allow my pride to disrupt the valuable lessons to be learned from this woman. The second was to use her success as a means of building my own.

What I’m saying is, knowledge is more important than pride. If someone you don’t like can teach you something, choose the lesson, not the envy. If you’re a blogger with a smaller audience than someone else, look at their crowd-sourcing tactics in order to gain a bigger audience for yourself. If you’re a photographer, reach out to the person for some advice, maybe even some opportunities. If you’re a poet, ask someone what they do for inspiration, then ask what they do for an audience.

And if, like me, you’re a journalist, get down to the nitty-gritty.

This is a tough industry. But you too, can be tough. Develop your writing skills more. Meet more people. Write more stories. Work more. And mostly, work harder. 

But no matter what your pursuit is, use your resources. Simply because you deserve the same success, if not more, than whoever you feel your biggest competitor is.

It takes wisdom and maturity to be inspiredby envy, rather than consumed by it.

Coping with Change

A former co-worker of mine once gave each of the employees a book called “Who Moved My Cheese?” It was no longer than one hundred pages, and boasted all sorts of awards it had won on the cover, the back, and the index. Despite having the book for a few weeks, I hadn’t read it until one day I found myself on the brink of death (boredom).

As I turned each page, I found myself totally able to relate to the two main characters; two mice named Hem and Haw. The book was a narrative of the experience the mice had in making sure they were fed and able to have enough cheese to last them during the hard times. Essentially, it was a metaphor for humans having to ensure we are employed, happy, tending to our goals, and so on and so forth.

One mouse fought tirelessly, even when they stumbled upon a chamber with what seemed to be endless cheese, to make sure they had even more, as the cheese in the chamber would eventually run out. The other mouse, however, didn’t think long term. Instead, he focused on relaxing and enjoying the abundance of cheese that was there for him, thinking it would renew itself.

But one day, the cheese ran out.

The moral of the story was that we always have to prepare to have nothing at all, even if we have it all in that moment. The story set out to illustrate the importance of being able to adapt to changing circumstances; a lesson I found myself learning, especially in recent months.

How do we deal with change?

A few weeks ago, I reached my wits end with my employer. I felt myself unable to enjoy my work experience, despite being surrounded by a great group of co-workers. I had felt this way for a while, but tortured myself with the idea that “I needed the money”. While this was true, one day I noticed myself preferring to be poor instead of working for this employer anymore. When I recognized that thought, I knew it was time to go.

I wrote my resignation letter in absolute confidence despite having no back-up plan, just a list of places I had in mind that I could flee to in refuge. Immediately after quitting, I reached out to someone that had recognized my personable skills at the place I had just left, and she set me up for an interview. Within one week of quitting, I had passed all the background checks, credit reports, and lengthy interview process, and was hired. I started the week after, and began settling into my new work environment. Interestingly enough, I was doing less work here and making twice the money.

We deal with change by knowing when to walk away.

And the truth is; we walk away when we’re ready. There is no such thing as “overstaying”. Whether it is a relationship you think is becoming toxic, or a job you think you need to leave, you stay as long as you can and as long as you have to, before you either find a way out or reach your wits end, like I did.

The most important thing about leaving at the precise moment you decide to, is how things will work out for you when you are true to yourself. If you’re still there, it’s because you can still handle it. It’s kind of like a kettle, your body, mind, and spirit, might be whistling to you, and perhaps even growing louder progressively. But until it gets to that final, high-pitched whistle you can’t help but hear, you’ve still got work to do.

Keep in mind that things always work out. I’ve said this time and time again in my blog posts, because it is one of the governing philosophies of life, if you really and truly believe in it, and especially if you really and truly work hard.

I know that even in starting this new job, maybe after a couple months, a couple years, I might find it unbearable. That’s just my sign that it is time for change. When I can no longer look myself in the mirror, or fall asleep at night, I will know it’s time to leave. Until then, I have work to do.

We tend to set expectations. We often assign time limits to things; everything from how long it will take us to get Downtown to marriage. When really, we change, grow, and evolve with each passing moment. What was right for us when we started might not be right for us when we get to the halfway mark. But we’re so focused on getting to the finish line that we end up at the wrong one.

This also happened in my university career. I spent roughly $13,000 acquiring the degree I thought I wanted in history. But after my second year, I felt unfulfilled, dissatisfied, and the inescapable feeling of sheer unhappiness. It was when I couldn’t sleep at night knowing I would be unhappy with my career choice for the rest of my life that I decided to switch into journalism. Now, the only thing more exciting than being able to fall asleep is waking up in the morning.

If you don’t know yourself well enough to catch yourself in moments like these, furthermore, if you don’t respect yourself well enough to take whatever loss you may have acquired at the time (for me it was the $13,000 and the two years I spent in school already), how will you ever get what you really and truly want out of this life?

Check in with yourself. See where your head is at. More importantly, see where your heart is at. If they’re not in the same place, you’ve got to change something. It could be finding a new partner, it could mean finding yourself. Pay attention to your needs. Recognize that they may change from day to day, year to year, or decade to decade.

Most importantly, stay hungry. If you have a healthy hunger for happiness, paired with the ability to recognize the road you have to take to get there; you’ll find your cheese.