And finally a reason to go back to loving journalism

I'm only decidating two sentences to the fact that I haven't been on here in three weeks. That was the first, this is the second.

Forgive me, the National Magazine Awards were last Friday and I'm only now getting to write about them.  I never claimed I was time-sensitive.

For all the smack that I'd heard about these awards I wasn't expecting much. "They're self-fulfilling, they're too expensive (which they are), they're too long, too boring, drinks aren't free." Yakkity yak. I'll concede that the cash bar is lame but let's have a little real talk here--hundreds of writers, artists, editors, if the booze was free the bar would have been dry before you could say, 'What now? There's a chocolate fountain?'

Contrary to all of this I thought they, it, the night was quite something. The mingling before hand turned out to be an enjoyable balancing act of drinking martinis and eating lamb shanks out of a take-out box.  Nothing so humbling as trying to eat food while walking around trying to appear like you aren't in fact eating while everyone else does the same thing.  While you perform this little dance if you aren't laughing at yourself and everyone else you don't deserve to eat.

Lucky for me I'm not a popular girl so there was no one I had avoid for that awkward, drawn out small chat. Instead I was privvy to light-hearted but meaningful catching-up with some old but familiar faces. And I would go so far as to say this mood extended to whole room. Pre-awards there was a certain congenial air.  Dare I compare it to a high school reunion that you actually wanted to go to?

As for the awards ceremony itself, it also was not the ever-lasting, eternal, evening I was promised. With one or two exceptions, I found it swift and smooth, if not surreal at certain moments. Um, who was in charge of the music selection?  Word of advice not everything needs to be flashy and pop, but even this was so unpredictable it was good.

All in all I thought it was a charmed collective moment for an industry still unsure of itself in the digital age. It was special, special to be there, to see other people's work, maybe even your own, be honoured. Or maybe it wasn't honoured directly but indirectly it most definitely was. We all know what goes into a piece of journalism and if you can't give yourself over to tapping into that as you see someone win best new writer or best single issue then maybe you've lost the idea and the love for what you do.

As the Canadian magazine industry milled about the evening I surrended myself to the notion that these people have a craft that they work at everyday and everyday they contribute to sharing and shedding light on the lives we lead.  There was a magnetism in the air and I was electrified (if not a bit tipsy but no matter).

Nominated or not you can bet I'll be going again.

Look Ma, a whole entry without swearing!