Career Crisis

So a friend said I was going through a college-withdrawal, but I think it may be something more serious.

Last night I was with my sister, enjoying a lazy Monday night. The past two weeks at work have been busy and kind of stressful--I broke a story that was pretty big, and it got some people riled up. My sleep was restless because it was hard to get my brain to calm down, but it was definitely nice to be consistently busy. I'd rather be making 20 phone calls a day than sitting and looking for things to do to waste time on the Internet.

Julie and I were talking about jobs, and I told her about this doctorate discussion class I sat in on at UNT's Health Science Center. The class, social epidemiology, was great fun--me and four students and the professor, discussing the tangle mess of race, socioeconomics, epidemiology. When I left, I told her how I'd much rather sit in a class like that then be bored at work, and so I was telling Julie how it'd be great to get a master's in public health.

And it really would be a great degree. There's so much to learn, and it's where science gets complicated with other subjects--do you get different treatment because you're black or because you're poor? Can we ever figure it out? How do we change it? It's an area of science that's very cool to me. I started considering applications, the financial costs of going to school (again . . . it would only happen if they paid my way), where to do this. I looked at Fulbrights, wondering if that would be worthwhile. (I decided I couldn't leave the country for 9-12 months and leave Topper again, and I don't think they'd pay to cover his international travels.)

"You've got a really sour look on your face," my sister said.

And it's true. I did. I was thinking about what I'm doing now and where I want to be. I like my job now because A) it's a steady paycheck B) I can write about science and health C) I get to learn lots of little things and C) they value my talents and knowledge. But it's not keeping me busy. I spend a lot of time reading celebrity news and other nonsense and reading every news site I can find. I'm not challenged, either. I might write a story about the costs of cancer treatment to patients, which is something I care a lot about and want others to know about, but it's not a hard story to write. Even the big stories I chased down over these past two weeks are more "shoe leather" than talent.

That's where the problem is. I want a job where I'm challenged, even if I don't love it, and I want a job where I can be a bit more consistently busy. Journalism is a hurry up and wait business--there will rarely be times where you're constantly busy, just because you're waiting on callbacks or whatever else. But the challenging thing has me worried. I'm not challenged here. Am I going to be any more challenged in a reporting job at any other publication? Each story can have its own quirks to figure out--the right way to word something, structure, keeping to word count--but it's all routine trouble-shooting.

I have this horrible idea that maybe journalism may not be a challenging field for me.

Remember, I love journalism. I love words, I love writing, I love deadlines and bylines and relaying information. But is it harder to write stories at the New York Times than the local business newspaper if you're in science journalism? Instead of getting easier with age and experience, does it get harder, more challenging?

I talked to Dan briefly about it. He said now that he's at a bigger paper, it's easier to report and write stories--he attributes it to the staffing differences. He said he's not really challenged. He enjoys it, sure, but challenging? Maybe not.

I've had it hinted to me that perhaps I could become an editor here at some point. Maybe editing is more challenging. I certainly enjoyed it at the Skiff, but that was small-time. I don't know if that was an accurate representation of real journalism. But if that does happen, at least it will give me one more piece of information--either editing is something challenging, or not.

For now, I think my only decision has been to get off my ass when I'm doing nothing at work and redouble efforts on the novel. At least it's challenging.

And perhaps I'll look at some more degrees to add to my resume.

The Desk

I have a desk. It's kind of a half-cubicle; there's a divider between me and Betty, the woman who sits next to me, and there's a divider right in front of me, where I had to thumb-tack the HR guy's business card so I'd have the phone number and address of the new place, as well as the name. In the first few phone calls I made I kept telling people I was at the Fort Worth Business Journal (it's the Business Press, and sooner or later I'll remember that). To my right is a window, a big, nice one that looks over a vacant lot, a little bit of busy Hulen, the tower of Central market and a parking lot and building of the next block up.

This is my new home from 9-5, working like a real person. It's strange because parts of it are so familiar . . . the phone calls, the interviews, the research, the phone ringing as people call you back. The only thing is I've never been mandated to st in one place to take care of the daily workings of being a reporter. At TCU I did my reporting when I wanted, since I had other things going on (like school), and at BU I did most things from my apartment, sitting cross-legged on my bed. My internship at the Fort Worth Weekly wasn't filled with a lot of day-to-day stuff, and at the Globe there wasn't too much reporting, since stories were rare. Until a few weeks ago, all my Star-Telegram stuff was on my own schedule. Someone wasn't calling me back? I'd leave and go ride Topper.

Now I have to wait at my desk until they call back. It can be dull. I read a lot of news, and every day I'm thinking of new websites to fill my down time. The closest thing I can think of is my internship at Nature in London, where I had to be there, regardless of whether there was true work, for at least 5 hours a day. (It was supposed to be 8, but Charles Wenz, my supervisor, was very good at encouraging me to take off and go enjoy the weather once it was spring.)

But there are upsides. For example: business cards. And a phone at my desk, so people will no longer call me on my cell phone and interrupt a ride to talk about whatever story I'm working on. Thinking about dorky stuff all day is also very gratifying, even if it does involve hospital PR people who want to watch as you interview a doctor.

I met a PR woman who came from many, many years of broadcast journalism. I hope I never become a PR person.

Now I'm gonna go be a I-just-got-off-work-and-am-gonna-watch-crap-tv person and see some America's Next Top Model.

Don't judge. You know you watch too.

Work It

I have one more day of freedom before I start my new job at the Fort Worth Business Press. I feel a little queasy--nerves--thinking about it, but I think I'm excited. I'm definitely ready for a steady, solid paycheck, health benefits, a 401 (k), business cards and a chance to get out of the apartment.

But whenever I think about working 9 to 5 in an office instead of doing reporting from my couch on my computer, it makes me a little sad. No more early-afternoon trips to the barn to ride before evening thunderstorms, and no more sleeping late and working into the evening and having Erik as my editor.

I had applied to the Business Press about a month ago, if not longer, in a frustrated fit of fury at the Star-Telegram. They got back to me a week and a half ago, apologizing for the delay, but they offered me a position as a the medical/tech/science reporter and a salary. It took me a while to warm up to the situation. I admit, I had a lot of reservations about it all. I felt like a sell-out. My ego was taking a blow, going from a large metro daily to a small weekly. I'd just gotten settled with my job at the Star-T, and now everything was changing. I wasn't sure I'd like being in such a small office--I was afraid a small office would invite more drama than a large newsroom, where I can stay out of things.

But you never know how any job is going to be before you take it, and I would have been an idiot to turn it down. I can pay off my credit card now, and my bike, and make student loan payments when they kick in. I can pay rent and bills without stressing out at the end of every month about whether I'll have the money. If I want to buy a book, I can buy a book and not feel guilty for not buying groceries later.

Plus, I'll be writing about something I give a damn about. The Star-T was good in that it exposed me to all sorts of stories, good and bad, but they were yanking my chain when they said they wanted more science. They don't. Not really. Some people do, and probably most do in a hypothetical, but when it comes down to a science story or one about a guinea pig hoedown, they're going to go with the guinea pigs. (Yes, there really was an A-1 story about a guinea pig hoedown.)

I admit it was a rush and very empowering to quit a real job.

Being busy will be good with Dan leaving soon, too. It'll keep me occupied and making money to prepare for future adventures, no matter what they are. That will be good. Work won't interrupt my personal life, either. Right now, sources call me on my cell phone (my only phone number) at all hours, interrupting dinner dates and rides on Topper.

And no job is forever. I may love it, or I may hate it, but now I'm excited. Every job is just to get you to the next better one.

Fuck The Man

I think I may be financially even right now. After months of running up my credit card, wiping out my savings, scrimping and worrying and working my butt off and obsessing about whether I could afford to buy a glass of beer or a dinner out, I think I've finally broken even just in time for paying rent in April.

That is, until you consider taxes. I'm supposed to get back about $430 from the federal government and the state of Massachusetts, which is cool, but because I'm self-employed I think I have to pay taxes quarterly. And the quarter is up. My dad wants me to talk to my aunt about it, because she was a corporate accountant for a long time and knows her stuff, but I'm having a hard time getting everything pulled together and trying to find the time to go see her. She lives about an hour away, and I haven't seen her in maybe two years, so it's not going to be a short visit. But she hasn't said that there's any urgency, so I'm gonna take my time. Fuck the government and them taxing me. I should be able to keep all my money. It's not like I'm getting very much.

Spring has been good. I'm trying to get my bike out more, since there's more daylight (yay!), but work can be distracting, and I'm trying to ride Topper regularly and work out, too. I know Dan wishes I went out more. I wish I did too. But his first love is cycling, and my first love is Topper.

Just the other day I realized we're just a few weeks shy of Easter, and April is next week. When the hell did that happen? Has it already been that long since I left Boston? I got my diploma in the mail Friday, which was exciting, but then it also made me think about how student loans will be kicking in soon (as well as payments on the bike). Even with breaking even-ish, I can work myself into a stressball thinking about how quickly time has gone.

Dan is going to Cleveland at the end of May for a reporting internship after graduation. He's going to be there for at least 3 months, I think, and I know he's hoping for a full-time job out of it. He went up for a few days over spring break, and evidently everyone who's a reporter there now was an intern at some point. It's a larger paper, and they have a lot of moving around with people in and out and changing beats, to keep the paper from getting stagnant.

What excites me about Cleveland is they actually seem to pay attention to science and health stories--they had a story about moon dust on the front page. (Evidently it's like glass dust and got through the ventilation systems of astronauts' suits, causing moon hay fever.) And there's rumour that they're planning on expanding their coverage. So if Dan gets a full-time job, I'd consider moving up there if I can also find something. Plus, it's a huge city for health stuff (ie, The Cleveland Clinic and its heart patients), so hopefully I could find something.

Just when I got out of the cold, I'm considering going back and living on the edge of a great lake. I must be nuts. Topper's gonna need another heavy blanket, I think.

Spring

The Stock Show is over, I've been given a beat to cover (social services with some science . . . holla) and Dan is going to Cleveland this summer, so I'll also be taking over the night cop reporting shifts.

And spring is in Texas. The sky is big and beautiful, the weather is still a little unpredictable, but spring is a good thing. It's my favorite season in Texas. It's (usually) not too hot, not too cold. It's blustery and green. It's good for driving around and listening to music and staying out late at night with a beer or margarita on a patio. Topper loves the breeze and warmth and his winter coat is starting to shed out, revealing his slick red again.

Noel died on Monday. He was a good fish. I had him for 3.5 years, which I guess is pretty good for a beta. He lived on my desk in my dorm my junior year, and then on my desk in the newsroom my senior year. While I was at school he was with Dan, living on top of the TV-tank that all Dan's fish are in. I don't feel too bad about his death . . . he was well-traveled, and had lived in Virginia and Texas and in many different locations. I don't know how many fish have traveled in airplanes in the cabin, but he did so a couple of times.

I had promised him a few years ago that if he died I'd put him in the Trinity river, so that's what we did Monday. I dropped him off a bridge over by the country club at night, and he made a tiny splash as he hit the water.

Like I said, he was a good fish.

Spillman and I have been going out on Thursday nights to the Ginger Man, a new bar that opened up halfway between Dan's apartment and downtown. Thursday night is pint night, so when you buy a glass of the featured beer you get to keep the glass. I have a big Warsteiner beerstein, two tall and slender Heineken glasses, and now a St. Arnold's pint glass.

We got dinner and then went to get ice cream before heading back to Dan's to watch the Tour of California and drink some more beer. Spillman was going to drive to campus quickly, and I was going to head to Dan's, so we pulled out of the parking lot of the ice cream place and onto University.

Then, some guy rammed into my car and drove off. A hit and run, the bastard. I wasn't hurt, and I thought he would pull over because he put his blinker on, but then he sped off. Spillman called to make sure I was ok, and we gave up trying to find the guy, so I pulled over in front of the Modern and called my parents, the insurance company, and the cops. It was stupid.

The car isn't really bad--the left fron panel is jacked, and my door doesn't open much, but it's still driveable. It just ticks me off because the guy left. Accidents happen, that's fine; but not pulling over is a jackass move. This is the second time this has happened to my car, too. Last time some guy gashed up my left back panel and broke all my lights when it was parked, and didn't leave a note or anything.

Grr.

But I got a new fish today. His name is Jens Voight and he's a crown beta, I think. He's kinda spiky looking, and he's blue. It's hard to believe Noel was ever that small.

Tonight and tomorrow morning I have stories to cover. I hope it's not raining. We're supposed to have thunderstorms and hail late tonight/wee hours of the morning.

I'm ready for this week to be over.

You Mean I Can Have My Nights Back?

I thought that my night life was getting quashed last semester at school, working at the Globe, but little did I know that the Stock Show would do the same thing. In addition to being out there for seven days and working on other news stories from Lee, I offered to do all the agate for Erik, who's serving as the Stock Show editor. I figured hey, it's extra money, it pays per hour, I can do it at home on my sofa watching Six Feet Under reruns, why not?

And then I remembered why I got annoyed at the Globe. I've been spending about three hours a day just typing for the past three weeks. It's painful. I don't know how transcriptionists do it, or other people who just type type type what's already been done or written. But I got to see results of Longhorns from Tokyo and horses from Belgium and sheep from Louisiana.

Today was the last day of the Stock Show. Dan had off yesterday, as did I (the only day where usually neither of us are working), so we drove to Dallas to see Body World. I adored it. Then I went and typed agate for 3 hours. But then Dan and I spent the evening at his parents' and at Erik's place, griping about newspapers and hearing his and Lori's ghost stories. It put me in a good mood to go to work today, out in all the animal crap for one last time.

The weather turned nice again, just in time for the last day. The poor vendors and whatnot--attendance was so low this year because of the two bad winter storms we had, and while I enjoyed being out there, I didn't enjoy trying to take notes with frozen fingers. It was sunny out and the English classes were taking place, so I spent my day wandering and talking to people with pretty jumpers and hack horses. Then I went home and typed the last of the agate--such a relief!

I was going to watch the Super Bowl, but I fell asleep.

Tomorrow, since I don't have agate and will hence have an extra three hours in my day, I'm going to ride Topper and maybe my bike too. On the way to blanket the horses tonight the moon was full and buttery-colored, and the weather is supposed to be mild for the rest of the week. But it's Texas, so I'm not holding my breath for any consistency.

Free-Lancing Worries

All the trees look like chandeliers. Friday afternoon the temperature abruptly dropped about 30 degrees in an hour, and the humid drizzle turned into heavy rain, which has been turning into ice since that night. Yesterday also rained off and on; same thing today. The bridges are covered in grit and the TV news people are getting drivers freaked out about the roads. I got to bust out my big heavy wool coat, which hasn't been out of the back seat of my car since I left Boston.

Tonight I'm finally going to move out of Dan's apartment. Between waiting for the stuff in my bedroom to get moved out and then trying not to catch Julie's cold, it's been about a week and a half back in Fort Worth and still not in the apartment with my sister. I bought a bed for it, though--it's from Little Mexico, and it was a a big old adventure to go get it. Dan and I got it at T Mart, which also sells hooker clothes, used furniture, bootless CDs and DVDs, Fiddle Faddle, car stereo systems and a scraggly parrot. Dan bought a hand-painted replica of Van Gogh's "Starry Night," done by Todd, whoever that is. It's pretty freaking awesome. It's done in oils and framed nicely and everything. It only cost $50 too. And this gem from a place that advertises free beepers.

It's been great being back. I've got stories I'm working on, and I'm doing a lot of work covering the Stock Show. Friday was the first day, and Dan and I both worked. It was fun to be there, and the editor this year is Eric from the Star-Telegram. He's young, and we've hung out with him before (Dan's been working with him for a while), and he's also a good editor--easy to get along with, open to suggestions, and pushing alternative things. Friday I did a charticle, some blogging and got the audio for a slide show. A photographer and I spent most of the morning in the Longhorn barn, where heifers were being gathered for a sale.

I totally got roped into this Longhorn thing. The people are a hoot, and the animals are pretty fun. I kinda like cattle. And I definitely dig on the food, even though all I've had is a funnel cake. I've got plenty more days out there. It pays well, and I enjoy it, and I've got enough work on days that I'm not there to work on other stories.

Part of me is still wondering if I was nuts to turn down two full-time positions. I feel like I wasn't getting a lot done on a couple stories until I got the Stock Show, but I think things will be fine once I'm at my apartment and Dan's in school again (Tuesday). Once all my moving is finished and I'm done with all those distractions, work with the Star-T should be fine. And if not, then I'm back to looking for things . . . I found these jobs, so I'm sure I can find more. Right?