Brea Jones

I never took a class from Susan Brockus, but I never stop learning from her, either. When the CNPA speaking engagement came up, I asked her advice because she has held essentially every role in this industry from kid playing in the newsroom to publisher.

We got into talking about corporate media and my career, and she asked these series of questions, which I’ve gone on to share with a SPJ Generation J blogger and several friends:

“So, what is journalism to you? A career? A job ladder? A mission? A calling? Who do you do it for?? Yourself? The community? The company? Maybe clarifying this will help you figure out where you want to go.” (Reprinted with permission)

Here is the gist of my reply:

I don’t know yet know what journalism will be for me.

I entered the field in college because I loved being a reporter for the blend of altruistic and ego-driven reasons many people do it. I worked 40 hours a week with essentially no pay because I thought every quote, headline and photo was a life or death decision. When I saw people reading the paper, it was fulfilling, and breaking news was exhilarating. But that’s not what I do anymore. I’m not even a first-generation newspaper person. I’m a media producer.

I think I do it because I want to learn — a selfish goal — and because I think I can make a difference with how my generation gets news — a bit less selfish. I think about how I get information, how I can help more people get accurate information and how to package that information in a useful way. I think the Web is a forum for community. When I process user-submitted photos or send out a breaking news text message, I realize my job has an important purpose that is far beyond a rung in a ladder.

I know most people who read this are fellow journalists — so what is journalism for you?

I was trolling around the journalism geek blogosphere, and on CNPA’s multimedia forum, I found a link to this video demonstration/explanation of Photosynth. I am speechless, and those of you who know me personally know that means a lot. Click. Enjoy. Amaze yourself.

It almost makes me wish I used a Windows machine so I could give it a test drive myself. Almost.

Today I was asked to speak at the California Newspaper Publisher’s Association convention in San Francisco. Two years ago I was a recipient of an internship grant from the CNPA Foundation, and so they want me to give testimony to the grant program and how it helped my career.

I’m really excited, but I’m not too sure what to say yet. Ideas?

So I turned 23 today, which means I need to edit the “Quick and dirty” information on my Web site and I get to quote the first line of one of my favorite songs. It continues like this: ” … named after my mother. My old man is another child that’s grown old.“

Twenty-three is one of those strange in-between years where having a birthday does not mean you can legally enter a California bar for the first time or graduate from college, but it isn’t at the point where you start counting down to 30, and then 40, and then 50 and then retirement.

Every birthday before this one was strictly a celebration, but this year I feel reflective, and you get the pleasure of reading about it if you continue on:

It it sort of strange how we celebrate the day of our birth, as if each day is not a celebration of life and each breath not the same as the next. Upon turning 23, the only real significance is that when people ask my age, I say “23″ not “duces” as has been my usual response. I don’t look older, I certainly am not wiser, so why celebrate a birthday without any benefits?

I think it will be more meaningful to celebrate the day I’m not longer asked for an ID to get into an R-rated movie. I’ll let you know when that day comes, and all of you loyal readers are invited.

This isn’t to say I won’t celebrate my birthday.

A good friend of mine has celebrated with me for the past decade. He was born 21 hours and 19 minutes before me in a neighboring town and after a formative year as 12-year-old enemies, we’ve been confidants and birthday buddies.

So we’ll celebrate: another year further from the comforts of childhood, which seemed so difficult when we were living it but seem so easy looking back; another year of learning who we are and rejecting all the things we don’t want to be; another year of quarter-life crises and struggling to sort out if this is really what life is supposed to be; and another year of taking each breath as it comes and each smile as a blessing.