Inspired

True inspiration is a strange thing. I have always believed that inspiration is just being told something and thinking to yourself, “Wow maybe that is what I should do” or, “Yeah that might be a good thing to do”. However, I have begun to doubt my pre-conceptions. Why? Because I believe I was truly inspired last week. What inspired me so much that I doubted all of my previous thoughts about inspiration? A lecture…

A ‘International Journalism’ lecture to be exactly precise. When making my module selection last year, all I wanted to do was pick ‘Sports Journalism’. I refrained. I know how competitive Sports (particularly football) is for aspiring male journalists. So, out of the blue, I picked International Journalism. What a great decision.

The first lecture was my moment of pure inspiration. I was just in awe of everything the lecturer said to us. She spoke of her career as a foreign reporter in South America. Her stories of working in Brazil and Argentina just made me envious. Despite the daunting prospect of being in a foreign country with no family or friends, all I wanted to do was pack my bags and get on a plane to warmer climes. I felt so inspired, I came home and bought a book on Amazon from the reading list, Christina Lamb’s ‘Small Wars Permitting’.

Obviously I had thought of international reporting before. The only previous thought about sending myself around the globe to report was after a lecture from ITV correspondent Tom Bradby. Bradby spoke for an hour of his travels around Asia and his experiences (including getting injured during riots in Jakarta).

He isn’t the only on who has been hurt or feared for his life. Lamb mentions on page 1 of her book that she thought she was going to die. Similarly, in the documentary ‘A year to remember’, Sky News foreign reporter Alex Crawford talks of her experiences in Libya this Spring. Her near death experiences were traumatic, but despite fears of death, I was still interested in pursuing a career in the field.

This makes me sound so hypocritical. I criticised the decision of my cousin to join the RAF and put himself in the line of fire. Now I, a usually sensible (or scared) young man from the suburbs wants to enter the most dangerous areas of the world. Why would I do that, putting myself in danger just for a ‘story’? Would it be worth it?

Yes. All I can think of is the adrenaline buzz from reporting from abroad. The fresh start. The new opportunity. I’m trying to ignore the nagging voice in my head… The sound of my mum telling me, “it’s too dangerous”.

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