I wear a lot of hats. Both literally and figuratively.
Literally, to rub it in to my sister, who has an abnormally large head and cannot wear hats. In return, she ridicules my cankles. Don’t cry for me. It could be worse.
But I digress.
Figuratively, because at the moment, I’m a summer news reporter here and also master of journalism at Ryerson. During school months, I’m a TA and occasional government worker, too.
In the past, I’ve also worked here, here, and graduated with a political science degree from UBC.
I may be a newshound, but I’m no ambulance-chaser. Some journalists like the hard news stuff: the corruption, the police shoot-outs and the three-car highway crashes.
Not I.
I like the strange stories—the town convinced that’s there’s a leprechaun in the tree, the mysterious cow that washed up on Victoria’s waterfront, or the woman who builds cat condos in Toronto.
That’s what I plan on writing about here: strange, quirky stories in a campus setting. I’m thinking this should work, because most students are young.
And, well, young people sometimes do strange things.