What Makes A Good Journalist?

A good journalist deals in the "absolute truth" and therefore must NEVER jump to conclusions or lie to the public. A good journalist's job is to "police the police" by always keeping one step ahead of the game and helping "keep them honest", informing the public of key news and developments around the world. Described as a "bloodhound as well as a watchdog", journalists are the source of the world's news and therefore need to be able to achieve good communication to the public through their use of language and be honest in their gathering of information. Therefore, it is crucial that their language is precise and accurate. This has been proved "beyond reasonable doubt". A good journalist needs to be fast, accurate and fair when gathering information/materials by using the power of language to communicate their findings to the public.

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So what do you think? Is my response fast, accurate and fair?

The "Spreading Ooze Of Mass Culture"

Ever the cultural pessimist, MacDonald coined this term to describe the effect Mass Culture (Mainstream Culture) has on society.

According to the Collins Pocket English Dictionary (2000) culture is "the ideas, customs and art of a particular society." However when put into practice, I believe it allows for a more in-depth analysis.

Cultural guru Raymond Williams described culture as "ordinary". Unlike MacDonald, Williams is a cultural optimist, believing that Mass Culture has a positive effect on the masses and therefore should be valued within a society. 

This leads me to question: What is "ordinary"? What is culture? And who defines it?

The topic on the agenda today was the much debated issue of TASTE.

Taste is not something we are born with, nor does it stay the same. It is a learned behaviour and is constantly changing as we become "enculturated" into a society. Taste can be used to express our individuality (whether individually or in a group) and it is socially constructed, meaning we are all affected by it. Therefore we as the consumers are "manipulated" into a particular lifestyle that affects the way we think and act. 

Having said that, we shouldn't automatically assume that this is such a bad thing. Strinati says "mass culture is a culture which lacks intellectual challenge and formulation, preferring the undemanding ease of fantasy and escapism." Personally, I like the idea that Mass Culture allows us to "escape" from the trials and tribulations of everyday life. Because as Bourdieu quite cleverly states "different forms of culture provide different forms of pleasure."

So don't be ashamed if you watch Eastenders or are a die-hard football fan. My philosophy is that Mass Culture should be valued as a product of our culture. It enriches us and has the potential to dissolve all cultural distinctions.

Miss Independent.

My move into independence has been an uphill struggle.

I officially enrolled as a student @ The University Of Winchester last week, ready to begin a new chapter in my life.

It's a historic place. Once the capital of the country during the days of the Smashing Saxons, home to the great literary Jane Austen who currently rests in Winchester Cathedral, as well as King Alfred, "The Great Defender Of The English Language" during The Middle Ages. For me, that's what made it all the more appealing.

I hope to update my blog regularly, discussing key concepts, as well as engaging in intellectual debates, which will enable me to gain a better understanding of my current course of study.

For more information on The History Of Winchester, visit: http://www.visitwinchester.co.uk/site/about-winchester/brief-history.

"Inside The Mind Of A Murderer"

Paul is a middle aged man. His wife left him 20 years ago making him feel incompetent. He is recently unemployed and is wanted by the police for murdering 10 young women over a 20 year period. He wants to be noticed but to the rest of the world he is Anonymous.

Fade In.

It is late. Paul is sitting at a table in a strip club in Brighton. He is obsessively chewing on his nails. His attention is drawn to a scantily clad lady dancing on a platform nearby. Pounding music plays in the background.

“I come here to escape you know. This place just gives me a sense of freedom. A way of escaping from my separate life. Here I am a nobody He places his hands gently into his lap. He turns to observe the blood on the surface of his fingertips. Paul begins to mutter to himself. We live in a stinking, corrupt society full of hatred and greed. If people knew what was out there hunting them, they’d never leave the house. The world is a stinking pit of darkness (pause) people live their stupid little lives. Paul briefly turns his attention to camera. People lie. Everybody lies (pause) and death (pause) death gives me a release. It makes me feel powerful (pause) invincible (smiles) like nothing in this world could ever touch me. Paul looks back at his lap, muttering. It’s only a matter of time before that power gets taken away (pause) corrupted (long pause) Yeah. I know where I’m headed. He looks back at the dancer. They call me “Anonymous” you know. The cops or “detectives”.  The one that got away. (pause) I remember my first. A young college student (pause) Another insignificant being poisoned by the world around her. I remember her long flowing hair (smiles) I remember. It reminded me of… and the look in her eyes. She chose me (pause) She wanted me (pause) and I gave her the time of her life. Smiles to himself.”

Fade Out.

Fade In.

Paul is walking along an empty street at night. His hands are thrust deeply into his pockets. He is looking directly at the camera.

"You know (pause) to outsmart a detective you have to think like one.  Tiny details that only they notice. Because without the evidence there would be no case. The only alternative (long pause) suicide. He looks at the floor as he walks. Suicide is a funny word. The final act of selfishness (pause) like a speeding bullet. One minute you’re flying. The next. He looks back at the camera, his hands briefly removed from his pockets and gestures. BANG! The camera holds his gaze until he places his hands back into his pockets, his gaze drifting back downwards. Me (pause) I use the evidence to tell a story. You know (pause) planting fingerprints (pause) hair. I could be anybody. Smiles to himself. I've always liked to draw. Ever since I was a child. There was this one piece. A portrait. It’s a sketch of my face. One half perfect (pause) untouched. The other (pause) distorted (pause) dripping (pause) like I have just set fire to my face and all that’s left are loose bits of flesh and the outline of my skull. They say it’s a way of showing both sides. But what happens to a person if those two sides (pause) entities collide? I guess you could say that Evil overpowers the good and slowly (pause) slowly takes control. Once this happens (pause) there’s not going back. Looks at camera. You’re dead inside."

Fade Out.

Fade In.

Paul is leaning against a wall outside a police station. He is casually observing who enters.

"I guess it’s in my blood. Taking lives. Kind of God-like don’t you think? (pause) My Mum always said I was an angel sent down from heaven (pause) but what happens when an angel loses its wings? Does it wither and die? (pause) One insignificant life imposing itself on another. And the consequences (pause) somebody has to pay… Tonight is a very special night (pause) Tonight I prove them all wrong. So much anger. So much suffering (pause) None of it matters. He separates himself from the wall, hands in his pockets. I know where I’m headed…"

Fade Out.

Inspired by US Crime Show "CSI". This particular character was based on the serial killer Paul Millander.

I studied English Language at college and this was part of my first year coursework. I love Creative Writing and hope to pick it up at University alongside my Journalism course.

A few adjustments have been made now I don't have the 750 word limit. 

Majorca (9th August 2011).

A few holiday snaps.

We enjoyed beautiful sea views.

Freshwater Snorkelling.

Relaxing by the pool.

Boat trips.

And much more.

It was nice spending time away with the family before I jet off to University in September. 

Majorca will always be remembered as the holiday where I went freshwater snorkelling for the first time, took a boat trip to the most famous caves in the world and witnessed some actual Spanish flamenco.

They say travelling broadens the mind and I hope to get more of an opportunity to explore new countries, experience new cultures and enhance my understanding of the world around me.

I'm excited, are you?

BHASVIC Visual Arts Exhibition (23rd June 2011).

The time comes when a relatively self-dependent eighteen year old is thrust into the frightening world of University.

Eden, my little brother and my muse.

I remember the first time I set foot in BHASVIC in September 2009. I had missed the open day and was left feeling rather sceptical as to whether it would be the right place for me. With the rustic smell and the feeling of complete calm which made it ever so appealing. 

And although I had not yet officially finished college, the exhibition mean't I was able to celebrate my achievements in both photography and digital art, of which I am very proud.

Feeling rather nostalgic reflecting back on all the support my family, tutors and students have given me over the years towards my future, and for that, this post goes out to all you wonderful people. It's been tough.

My Unit 3 project focused in on "Making Time Stand Still".

As September approaches, I am preparing to start a new chapter at University. I feel a surprise sense of calm and excitement about my newly acclaimed independence and am looking forward to building a new life in Winchester.

I'm thinking of writing a diary documenting my first year. Whether I will make this public on my blog, I have to decide.

To view photo's from the "Making Time Stand Still" project visit my Flickr page @ http://www.flickr.com/photos/amy_moore/.

Seeing The New In The Old.

Creative Writing Enrichment.


The Booth.

A broken clock hangs on the neatly varnished wall next to me. It's stuck on 8:46. I can't help but feel a sense of security in this place; enclosure. I can hear distant voices and there is a wooden kind of authentic smell in the air. Patterns have become carved into the woodwork on the walls. My eye is drawn to a piece of torn cloth swaying in the breeze from an open window. To me it reflects the emptiness of this place. It shouldn't be here. Numbers and sequences surround me. Everything has it's place. Everything fits. I am the only thing that doesn't. 

I am clutter in a clean house. I am a hunter in the rainforest. The distant voices have stopped and all there is is silence. I am alone in this foreign place yet I decide to explore. I take a book from the shelf behind me. A little blue book. It has an inscription on the front that appears to be a shield with wings. I wonder what this can mean? I turn the pages carefully. They are flaky and worn. I put it back, trying not to leave my imprint on this delicate synthetic world. The sense of security I had has now turned into a sense of intrusion. I must leave now. But I will return soon.