Sometimes I have a hard time separating myself from my reporter past.

Last night, spurred by fatigue and indignation, I began a blog about current events. It quickly became political. Then it became emotional. Then it became crazy.

So because I don’t want to be that blogger, I shelved it and went to bed. But I woke up thinking that oh my god, I grew my opinions back.

Let me explain. I’ve been repressing my own politics for a decade. As a reporter, I wanted to appear fair and objective and politically neutral. I’m not saying I always succeeded, but I did refrain from a lot of political discussions. I didn’t register with a party. I honestly did consider all the sides of each situation, and if I argued with friends and family about politics or current events, I always found myself playing devil’s advocate. I’d argue for the side with which I even didn’t agree, just to even things out in my mind, just to make me feel neutral. For a while, I actually believed I had no political opinions.

But now they’re coming back, and while it’s a thrill to not shove my feelings under the rug, I am sometimes surprised by the thoughts bubbling to the surface. The last time I was actively politically-minded, I was in college. Things have apparently changed: I thought I was a liberal, I might actually be a socially liberal libertarian. I don’t know. I’m going to have to do some research.

It’s a little uncomfortable for me to write about this, like talking about religious belief in public,  but I think I should probably know what my beliefs are, because if I continue to spew them, I’m eventually going to have to defend them.

This blog is a little heavy so let me end by distracting you with a picture of a cat. Whatever I may be politically, I at least know that I will always be able to define myself as a crazy cat lady.

Recently, I’ve been feeling a little guilty about my YouTube subscription to The Gregory Brothers’ Auto-Tune the News. You know them. They’re behind this song, featuring Antoine Dodson, whose sister was nearly raped by an intruder in the family’s home:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKsVSBhSwJg&fs=1&hl=en_US]

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Yahoo’s front page story this morning is about Mexico’s largest newspaper, El Diario. The paper, which is based in Ciudad Juarez, is dropping its coverage of Mexico’s drug wars after burying its second journalist killed by gangs.

The Committee to Protect Journalists is lobbying the government on behalf of Mexico's media.

On Sunday, according to this article by the Associated Press, the paper ran a page one editorial asking the drug cartels “to say what they want from the newspaper, so it can continue its work without further death, injury or intimidation of its staff.”

And so the cartels have bought themselves a media blackout with the blood of two reporters. They will now be able to conduct their business without being harassed and exposed by the press. And as an added bonus for those criminals, El Diario has, with a front page editorial, recognized the cartels as “the city’s de facto authorities,” and has opened negotiations with them.  That’s a problem.

But on the other hand, the Mexican government has completely failed to shield those journalists from harm. The Committee to Protect Journalists has prepared a special report on the subject, to be presented to President Felipe Calderon Wednesday.

The full report is here, but here are some of the highlights:

– More than 30 journalists are dead or have gone missing since the end of 2006.

– Mexico ranks ninth on the committee’s list of nations that fail to protect journalists. Iraq is number one.

– When Bladimir Antuna García, Durango’s top crime reporter, was tortured and killed last November after receiving and reporting death threats, the incident was not even investigated by the state. Since then, that region’s journalists have stopped reporting on crime and corruption.

– The Committee to Protect Journalists is asking the federal government to step in.

It’s scary stuff.

As Americans, we hear about our own journalists killed as they cover conflicts in other countries. But the Mexican journalists are threatened at home. Atuna was shot at as he left his home last April. When he got to work, someone called his cell phone, told him, “We’ve found your home. It’s over for you now.” That sort of threat might make me quit my job. That sort of threat might make any newspaper back down on a story. Thank god no paper I’ve ever worked for has faced that sort of a threat.

Given the choice between silence and death, we might all well choose silence, but allowing criminals to control the media is not a viable option. Someone must step in and protect Mexico’s journalists so that they can do their jobs. Mexico is our neighbor. Maybe there is something we can do to help.

I am so sick of reporters. Not real, live, actual reporters; I’m talking about this guy:

Jay, I'm sick of your whining, and FYI, so is she.

And this guy:

Settle down, Raoul. No one cares if this is bat country.

I’m talking about fictional reporters and all their ilk. My third semester project is about authors who were once reporters and, since most of those authors write about what they know, I’ve read a lot about newsrooms and reporters in the last two months.

I  feel like I’ve been working in a big, make-believe newsroom with Kipling, Dickens, Hemingway, Thompson, and a bunch of contemporary authors. That can be cool, because in their non-fiction about journalism, each personality becomes pretty clear.

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I’ve done it.

After almost nine years as a reporter, I’ve quit my job at The Hour. I started there as education reporter in 2001, the week before Sept. 11. I remember telling my mother, arrogantly, that I was just going to be there a year. Maybe two years, at the most. It’s been eight and a half. And I’ve covered schools, business, politics, features… almost everything in the paper’s coverage region in that time.

And I always said I wanted to leave and write my fiction. I even threatened to quit once. And I went part-time a year ago, when I went back to grad school. And all year, I thought, okay, it’s time. I’m going to quit. And this Wednesday, I did it.

Boy, was it hard. Read more