Tag Archives: journalism

New beginnings

More than a week has past and it’s finally begun to sink in. I am not on holidays, not on temporary leave, I won’t be returning – I am no longer a working journalist.

Last Thursday, this is what I was doing:

Reflecting on and saying goodbye to a career I had loved.

Reflecting on and saying goodbye to a career I had loved.

All that remained was my Wall-O-Post-Its; I refused to take them down.

All that remained was my Wall-O-Post-Its; I refused to take them down.

As hard as it was to come to this decision, and as much as I know I will miss the great parts of this career, I cannot dwell on the past, I must move forward. And so, in what may have been the shortest retirement known to humankind, on Tuesday, this is what I was doing:

First day of school; the first in almost 15 years!

Back to school – princess backpack and all!

New beginnings start now.

Goodbye journalism

(One of the only photos I could find of me working circa 2012)


Today, I did something I never imagined I would do when I first read that birthday horoscope 22 years, 2 months, and 1 day ago. A horoscope, that if I dug deep enough in my boxes of memories, I’d find still taped, albeit faded, on the front of the thick black journal I carried on my person everywhere I went as a teen. A horoscope that told me I shared the same birthday as Marky Mark Wahlberg (sigh!) and told me I was destined for journalism.


Today, I started the month-long goodbye to a career I forever dreamed of, a career I loved, a career I always thought would be a part of me.


Today, I handed in my resignation. Effective Aug. 28, 22 days from now, I will no longer be an actively employed journalist.


Today, I am a bag of emotions. I am excited for this new journey towards becoming a dietitian. I am nervous as hell about once again becoming a full-time student after a 13 or 14 year absence. And I am incredibly sad to be leaving a career I loved prematurely. Don’t get me wrong, it is time, but it is only time because of the abysmal state of the newspaper industry.


Today is the start of a new chapter in the Book of Katie.

super duper...

Gift of the gab… or not

I’m a great talker, always have been, my parents used to tease me for talking their ears off, they’d tell me to go outside and take a breath (I’m pretty sure they needed a breather from my nattering too). I love talking so much, I even entered a business where I needed the gift of the gab to get the story. And yet, when it comes to big crowds, when it comes to me standing before a class of 10, 20, 30 students (regardless of age), in front of a video camera destined for the world, and even a small wedding audience consisting of my nearest and dearest – I freak out. My hands shake, my voice quivers, my body goes into full-on sweats.

Presentation speaking is NOT my thing.

This week, however, I tried to quash those fears with a presentation to a mass communications class at the University of the Fraser Valley. The professor, a friend of mine, who we will call TV Prof (seriously, he’s a TV prof!!!) approached me last year requesting I talk to his students. I tried getting out of it, and I thought I had the perfect excuse by having Little Ring right around the time he wanted me to speak, but dammit all to hell, it seems the guy teaches the same class every semester. I tried telling him I suck at public speaking. I tried telling him about the flip book you could make of all the faces I produced in my wedding speech. I tried telling him about how “uhm” takes over my usually awesome vocabulary, being inserted into every second breath of a sentence. But that only encouraged him more.

Just a sampling of my flipbook!

And then, he gave me a topic I just couldn’t refuse: The demise of journalism.

And so, on Monday afternoon, I stood before that class for about an hour (that felt more like 10!). My eyes twitched. My shirt went from dry to soaked. And my voice shook uncontrollably as I read from a script of talking points. I relaxed somewhat when I wandered off into tangents, which anyone who knows me knows I’m akin to do, and during the Q&A portion at the end, I almost forgot I was presenting – answering those questions from the depths of my journalistic heart.

I told them about my long-lasting love for the craft of journalism, how I had always felt I was destined for this career, how I loved getting into the heads of my subjects, hearing their stories and retelling those stories through the written word. And then I slapped them – and their dreams – in their faces with the reality of the news business, going into great detail about how the powers that be are doing everything in their means (knowing or not) to kill this business. I told them love isn’t enough to keep me going. I told them that I, like many others in my position, am working hard at getting out of this business I once called a dream.

Yeah, I’m a bit of a killjoy 😉

And with that, my friends, I share with you that as of this week I am one step closer to becoming a fancy schmancy dietitian! All the upgrading I’ve been working on is now officially complete. The final course, Chemistry 12 (my nemesis!) was completed two weeks ago, and I got my grades this week, finishing with a respectable 86 per cent!!! Holy smarty pants!!! And now, it’s off to real university courses for me – wahoo!!!


  • 3:30 p.m. BG before: 5.9
  • Temp. basal: none (3 crackers and peanut butter (20 grams carbs) no bolus)
  • Distance: 5.25 km – 5 minutes warmup/20 minutes tempo/5 minutes cool down
  • Time: 30:57
  • Total average pace: 5:54 min/km
  • Tempo average pace: 5:41 min/km
  • 4:30 p.m. BG after: 5.4

A much deserved post-run Kombucha; 14 grams carbs.

This was supposed to be a tempo run with me averaging a 5:30 min/km or faster speed. And I thought, despite my legs feeling heavy and fatigued in the five-minute warmup, that I was killing it for the first half of the tempo pace… that is, until I turned around at the half-way point and was suddenly faced with a thick wall of wind. Damn you homeward bound wind, damn you!

First shorts run of the season… and yes, I know I have Casper white legs thank you very much 😀

Wishing you all a super duper Easter weekend!

Plan B: making changes

I have a bit of a secret that I’ve kept from the lot of you for quite some time, and I’m actually a mix of shocked and impressed that I’ve been able to keep it for this long. But that day has come where I must – ABSOLUTELY MUST! – spill the beans.

For about a year and a half now I’ve been working on a plan b to get out of journalism. It was a hard decision at first, rife with many hems and haws and I don’t knows. I’ve always loved to write. For as long as I can remember I’ve been telling people I was gonna be a writer, and at the ripe age of just 14, I defined that focus into journalism. But the thing is, the journalism I dreamed of, and the journalism I fell in love with is no longer the state of journalism today. And with Big Ring and I both in the same field, working for the same company, I figured it was high time I become passionate about something else.

I got this on my first trip to Paris in 2007 when I was still in love with my career. Sigh…

After weighing all my options, and wondering if I could wrap my head around the possibility of going to the dark side of public relations, and realizing I could not, and  trying to figure out what the hell else I might be destined to do, I decided to get out of the writing field altogether.

I want to be a dietitian.

It’s a natural fit really. I mean, I love food and have been dealing with the nutrition behind food for a quarter of a century. But it was actually my frustrations with the current state of the dietetic field, having no idea how to help a healthy Type 1 diabetic, that spiked my passion. I kid you not, every time I go into a diabetes clinic, they look at me like I’m crazy for being there; I actually even had one woman look at my numbers, and ask why I was there. They couldn’t understand that I wanted to be better, as close to perfect as I could possibly be. Every question I had, every inquiry, every wonderment about how to deal with my diabetes while running for instance was met with a quizzical stare. They couldn’t help me. And after talking to other like-minded, athletic Type 1s, I quickly discovered I wasn’t the only one.

So, eventually my goal is to work with active, athletic diabetics, who actually take care of themselves, and want to do better. I want to be the person to give them those answers. It’s not going to be an easy road; it’s a five-year course, two of which I plan to do through correspondence, but the last three have to be on campus.

Back to school I go…

But why tell you this now?

Well, for the past year and a half I have been upgrading my sciences (Biology 11 and 12 and Chemistry 11 and 12 … which, by the way, I seem to be a total brainiac at (despite my regular proclamations that chemistry is the bane of my existence!)). And yesterday I had to take a Chem. 12 test over at the distance ed site. Every time I take one of these tests, I always set out a juice box and my blood testing meter for just in case. Never had a problem with it before – until yesterday.

A few minutes into starting my test, the testing clerk taps me on the shoulder and says I have to put my cell phone away. I look up, look at the contents of my stuff on the desk, look back at her quizzically, and so she repeats herself – pointing at my BG meter. And I was so flabbergasted that someone could actually think my meter, which by no means is sleek and compact, could actually be a modern-day cell phone. I’ve been asked if it was a pager (again, totally laughable given that pagers are so 1992!), if it was palm pilot (really?), or some gaming type device, but never a cell phone. I mean, maybe if we were still in the ’90s it might have passed for one then, but today, are you kidding me?

It took everything I had not to giggle 😀