I have not been updating regularly. I really have no excuse for this except that I am not at all happy with my writing lately. I feel stale...stagnant...stifled. I think it's because I'm too happy, too content in my life. I have no strife and conflict to birth creative genius. Isn't that twisted? When my life is good, my writing is bad. When my life is bad, my writing is good. Don't I love a good paradox.
I originally created this blog because I wanted to keep my journalistic skills sharpened even in this haitus from my beloved newspapers. Unfortunately, that remains to happen. Perhaps that is a contributor to why I am hestitant to fill this blog with useless ramblings just to have to create a new one for "professional" purposes.
I miss reporting. I miss having a hand in bringing the news to the public. I miss interviewing unique people. I miss telling stories that inspire and inform.
I know that I didn't spend $80,000 on a useless degree that will sit on the shelf collecting dust. I know that eventually I will be able to actually get excited to come to work; I will once again glory in the rush of meeting deadlines and baske in the noisy, crazy, frantic atmosphere of a newsroom on production day....
I miss journalism. Everything about it: Moving stories and ads around the page layout trying to make everything fit like a puzzle, staying up until 3, 4, 5 in the morning running on nothing but caffeine and adrenaline, finding inspiration for columns in the extraordinary ordinary. I miss even the things I hated, like tracking down interviews at the last second because a junior writer dropped the ball. Come to think of it, I'm just starting to miss college in general.
Two years later it's finally hitting me. Part of it may be that I wasn't able to go back for a visit this past year. So many things have changed at Waynesburg that I'm not even sure I want to go back. Somehow, I fear that my memories will drift away on the morning mist if I walk through an unfamilar campus. New library. New dining hall. New science building. New faces.
I got wind that Mark Perry is going back to Chicago. Yes, many things have changed.
Sometimes I fear revisiting old haunts because I'm afraid that I will be the one haunted. Haunted by the ghost of my former self. Waynseburg is not the only thing that has changed over the past two years. As much as I wouldn't recognize it, I wonder of the campus would recognize me? It's scary how places can stir up memories that have long been forgotten. Much like music, parts of our souls are tied up in the places we live, the places we grow, the places we love.
It's strange to think of who I used to be then. It's strange to think of how short two years are and yet what a long journey it has been. Where we begin is where we arrive....
Some things never change and some things change too much. Where is the balance point? Maybe there is none. Maybe we are only meant to embrace the life pulsing within us only to spread our arms and leap off the edge...