He's leaving

We were eating stir fry I had made.
I was lying on my bed. He was sitting on the floor in front of the TV.
“Oh yeah, I found out where I’m going today.”
My boyfriend (Rico Ramon Don Juan aka Mark Storm…Ha! sorry folks, inside joke) is a Senior Airman in the U.S. Air Force. The first half of 2006 he was deployed to United Arab Emirites for six months and had been told he would be deployed again in June. He just didn’t know the location.
“Where?” I asked.
“Iraq.”

I was quiet while he kept eating and watching TV. I wondered what he was thinking, if he was worried at all about telling me and if he was scared.
I was.
There were different thoughts fighting for attention in my head – news footage from Baghdad, stories I had read, military funerals I had covered.

Neither of us said anything about it for awhile. Finally I said I didn’t want him to go and that I was going to kidnap him so that he couldn’t.
It was silly, I know, but I didn’t know what else to say about it. I was still processing what he told me. I mean, I’m still processing it three weeks later. There are questions and thoughts that are still works in progress that I can’t even piece together to write on this blog.

I was upset about it for the few days after I found out. Then my mom reminded me it’s not about me. It’s about him and what I can do for him before he leaves and when he gets back.

Suddenly I felt selfish. Of course I was worrying about his safety and his feelings about being deployed again. But I had also been wondering what I was going to do without him for 6 months, how lonely I was going to be and how much I will miss him. Thoughts of how pointless the war is also crossed my mind more than a few times… but I guess that’s neither here nor there…

So, I’ve been operating off of my mom’s advice. I don’t want him to worry about me worrying about him and I want him to know I’m here now and will be when he gets back in December.

These next couple of months before he leaves should be interesting…

Two years gone by

Two years ago today I walked into the Chillicothe (Ohio) Gazette, my first day as a professional journalist. Wow.

These two years have flown by. I've covered meetings, parades, funerals and told the stories of some remarkable people. I've since left rural Ohio, stepped up to a bigger paper here in Shreveport.

In honor of this anniversary (you'll come to learn I recognize ANY anniversary and milestone...lol) I thought I'd make a list of why I love what I do.

Everything I love about writing, the freedom, the creativity involved and the satisfaction from a somewhat finished product, is often overshadowed by the process.
Though at times frustrating, annoying and completely nonsensical, I love my job, and here are some reasons why…

1. I’m always meeting new people.
2. I learn something new just about everyday.
3. Through my writing I’m able to teach something new just about
everyday.
4. Work has the possibility of being different everyday.
5. Being a journalist is like a license for being nosey. I can ask questions many don’t or
feel like they can’t.
6. The feeling I get when someone mentions how a certain story made them feel, how it helped them, or simply the fact that they remember it.
7. I have a desk at 222 Lake St. but really, my office is the city outside of The Times building.
8. I particularly love being a minority in this field and the fact that I can bring a certain perspective and vision to a newsroom that is lacking the diversity.
9. This may not be a good reason to some, but I love the fact that journalists are often local celebrities. The longer you’re at a paper, readers start to know you and expect certain things (quality, style, etc.) from you.
10. By telling other people’s stories, I’m able to learn more about myself and others which I think makes me more tolerant and understanding of things I’ve never experienced.

I could probably write a list just as long of why I’ve considered looking for a new job on a few occasions, but it’s always better to look at the bright side, right?

So, here's to two years of accomplishments, disappointments, struggles and success. I hope the next two (and many more after that) are even better.

It starts...

This is a big year for all of my friends and I…we’ll hit the big two-five. Many don’t see it as a big deal, but to us it’s a milestone and an excuse to do some big-time celebrating. (As if we needed and excuse…)

The “Quarter Century Celebrations of 2007” kicked off this past weekend with my friend Tywana’s birthday in Philly.

I flew into Philadelphia Thursday night. Friday, my other friends Marla, Kyla and Nadia drove up from Maryland and we all headed to Atlantic City for Day 1 of the festivities at Jay-Z’s 40/40 Club.

Good food, good drinks, good music, great friends, we all had a good time. The rest of the weekend we just hung out, laughing, catching up on what everyone had going on, laughing, reminiscing, and did I mention laughing? Whoever said laughter is the best medicine was absolutely right. Today, coming back to work, I felt refreshed and ready for another week.

Who would have known we were celebrating what many women dread…getting older.

Tywana’s got a great outlook on turning 25. She’s finishing up dental school, has a great man in her life and of course good friends and an awesome family…what more could she ask for at any age? (I know, I know Tywana…a salary, but that will come.)

Next month is my turn. I hope I cope as well as Tywana did…

Welcome!

Hello blogosphere…

Before I really get into the craziness I consider my life, I guess I should introduce myself to those who don’t know me.

I’m a 24-year-old journalist (dangerously close to 25…March 25!) who has lived in a couple of different places in the past few years. From northern Virginia to south central Ohio to my current residence in northwest Louisiana, I’ve enjoyed moving and the different experiences and acquaintances that have resulted from it.

A Hampton University graduate, I’ve got big dreams of using my writing to change the world for the better, whether it’s for a newspaper or one of the many books I hope to write. (still working on the Master Plan.) The dream makes me naïve to some and just plain crazy to others, which is OK because I like a challenge.

Like the header says, I think life is an ongoing journey without a specific destination. I want mine to be filled with varying experiences, faces, places and happiness. I try to live by one of my favorite sayings: Happiness is a way of life, not a destination.

Not exactly sure what I’m doing here, just taking a wild leap, hoping to learn more about myself and others all while developing my own writing style and a habit of writing for pleasure more often.

So I’m asking that you bear with me and let me know what you think. If you think I’ve said something absolutely crazy or something you can relate to, I’d like to hear it.

Enjoy!